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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a411c92 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62396 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62396) diff --git a/old/62396-0.txt b/old/62396-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9963518..0000000 --- a/old/62396-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,27546 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Parodies of the Works of English and -American Authors, Vol I, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Parodies of the Works of English and American Authors, Vol I - -Author: Various - -Release Date: June 14, 2020 [EBook #62396] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARODIES *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Jane Robins and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - PARODIES - - OF THE WORKS OF - - ENGLISH & AMERICAN AUTHORS, - - COLLECTED AND ANNOTATED BY - - WALTER HAMILTON, - - _Fellow of the Royal Geographical and Royal Historical Societies; - Author of "A History of National Anthems and Patriotic Songs," "A - Memoir of George Cruikshank;" "The Poets Laureate of England;" "The - Æsthetic Movement in England," etc._ - - "We maintain that, far from converting virtue into a parodox, - and degrading truth by ridicule, PARODY will only strike at what - is chimerical and false; it is not a piece of buffoonery so much - as a critical exposition. What do we parody but the absurdities - of writers, who frequently make their heroes act against nature, - common-sense, and truth? After all, it is the public, not we, who - are the authors of these PARODIES." - - * * * * * - - D'ISRAELI'S Curiosities of Literature. - - * * * * * - - VOLUME I, - - CONTAINING PARODIES OF THE POEMS OF - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, - HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, - BRET HARTE, THOMAS HOOD, - AND THE - REVEREND C. WOLFE. - - * * * * * - - REEVES & TURNER, 196, STRAND, LONDON, W.C. - - * * * * * - - 1884. - - -_"Le sujet que l'on entreprend de parodier doit toujours être un ouvrage -connu, célèbre, estimé. La critique d'une pièce médiocre ne peut jamais -devenir intéressante, ni piquer la curiosité. Il faut que l'imitation soit -fidèle, que les plaisantéries naissent du fond des choses, et paraissent -s'être présentées d'elles-mêmes, sans avoir coûté aucune peine."_ - -_Mémoire sur l'origine de la Parodie, etc. Par M. l' Abbé Sallier_, 1733. - -_"It was because Homer was the most popular poet, that he was most -susceptible of the playful honours of the Greek parodist; unless the -prototype is familiar to us, a parody is nothing!"_ - - ISAAC D'ISRAELI. - - -THOBURN & CO., St. Bride's Steam Press, 136, Salisbury Square, Fleet -Street, London, E.C. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -[Illustration] - - When this Collection was originally projected, it seemed so unlikely - to receive much support from the general public that it was intended - to publish a few only of the best Parodies of each author. - - After the issue of the first few numbers, however, it became evident - that "a hit--a palpable hit--" had been made, the sale rapidly - increased, and subscribers not only expressed their desire that the - collection should be made as nearly complete as possible, but by the - loans of scarce books, and copies of Parodies, helped to make it so. - - This involved an alteration in the original arrangement, and as it - would have been monotonous to fill a whole number of sixteen pages - with parodies of one short poem, such as those on "Excelsior," - or Wolfe's Ode, it became necessary to spread them over several - numbers. In the Index, which has been carefully compiled, references - will be found, under the titles of the original Poems, to all the - parodies mentioned. In all cases, where it has been possible to do - so, full titles and descriptions of the works quoted from, have been - given; any omission to do this has been unintentional, and will be - at once rectified on the necessary information being supplied. - - To the following gentlemen I am much indebted for assistance in - the formation of this collection, either by granting permission to - quote from their works, or by their original contributions:--Messrs. - Lewis Carroll (author of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland"), G. - P. Beckley, James Gordon, John Lane, J. W. Morris, Walter Parke - (author of "The Lays of the Saintly"), H. Cholmondeley Pennell - (author of "Puck on Pegasus"), Major-General Rigaud, Edward Simpson, - G. R. Sims, Basil H. Soulsby, Edward Walford, M.A. (Editor of "The - Antiquarian Magazine"), J. W. Gleeson White, W. H. K. Wright, Public - Library, Plymouth, and John Whyte, Public Library, Inverness. A - great deal of bibliographical information was sent me by my late - lamented friend, the learned and genial Mr. William Bates, Editor of - "The Maclise Portrait Gallery;" his brother, Mr. A. H. Bates; the - Rev. T. W. Carson, of Dublin; and Miss Orton, have also given me - valuable assistance. - - In a few cases where parodies are to be found in easily accessible - works, extracts only have been quoted, or references given; but - it is intended in future, wherever permission can be obtained, - to give each parody in full, as they are found to be useful for - public entertainments, and recitations. When the older masters of - our Literature are reached, a great deal of curious and amusing - information will be given, and it is intended to conclude with - a complete bibliographical account of PARODY, with extracts and - translations from all the principal works on the topic. Whilst - arranging the present volume, I have been gathering materials for - those to come, which will illustrate the works of those old writers - whose names are familiar in our mouths as household words. Much that - is not only quaint and amusing will thus be collected, whilst many - illustrations of our literature, both in prose and verse, which are - valuable to the student, will for the first time be methodically - arranged, annotated, and published in a cheap and accessible form. - - WALTER HAMILTON. - - 64, BROMFELDE ROAD, CLAPHAM, LONDON, S.W. - _December_, 1884. - - - - -INDEX. - -The authors of the original poems are arranged in alphabetical order; the -titles of the original poems are printed in small capitals, followed by -the Parodies. - - - Charles S. Calverley. - - Notice of 62 - - - Thomas Campbell. - - HOHENLINDEN-- - "In London, when the Queen was Low," 1882 12 - - - William Cowper. - - JOHN GILPIN-- - John Bulljohn, 1882 12 - - - Bret Harte. - - PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES 135 - The Heathen Pass-ee 135 - A Kiss in the Dark 136 - That Germany Jew, 1874 137 - St. Denys of France, 1882 137 - That Infidel Earl, 1882 138 - Truthful James's Song of the Shirt 139 - FURTHER LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES 138 - Remarks about Othello, 1876 139 - The Bloomin' Flower of Rorty Gulch 140 - - - Thomas Hood. - - THE SONG OF THE SHIRT-- - Trials and Troubles of a Tourist 114 - The Song of the Spurt, 1865 114 - The Song of the Sheet, 1865 115 - The Song of the Street, 1865 115 - The Song of the Stump, 1868 116 - The Song of the Flirt, 1872 116 - The Song of the Wire, 1874 117 - The Song of Love, 1874 117 - The Song of the Cram, 1876 118 - The Slave of the Pen, 1875 118 - The Song of the Sword 118 - The Song of a Sot 119 - The Song of "The Case," 1875 119 - The Song of the Turk in 1877 120 - The Song of the Flirt, 1880 120 - The Janitor's Song 121 - The Song of the Shirk, 1882 121 - The Brood on the Beard 122 - The Song of the Dirt, 1884 123 - The Wail of a Proof-reader, 1884 123 - The Bitter Cry, 1884 124 - The Song of the Lines, 1873 129 - The Song of the Drunkard 129 - The Song of the "Prickly Heat," 1859 129 - The Song of the Clerk 130 - The Song of the Horse, 1844 190 - The Lament of Ashland 190 - The Song of the Post, 1877 191 - The Song of the Dance, 1877 191 - The Song of the Soldier's Shirt, 1879 192 - The Song of the Pen 192 - - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER-- - Nursery Reminiscences 124 - Parody from "Notes and Queries," 1871 124 - Parodies from "The Figaro," 1874 125 - Parody from "Idylls of the Rink," 1876 125 - Parody from "The Man in the Moon" 130 - - THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS-- - "One more unfortunate, Ploughed for degree," 125 - The Hair of the Dead, 1875 126 - "Take him up tendahly, Lift him with caah" 126 - The Rink of Sighs, 1876 127 - The Last Appeal for Place, 1878 127 - "One more Unfortunate Author in debt," 1883 128 - Boots of Size 128 - - THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM-- - The Fall of the Eminent I. (on Henry Irving) 130 - On "The Iron Chest" at the Lyceum Theatre, - 1879, "'Twas in the Strand, a great demand" 131 - "The sky was clear; no ripple marked" 131 - "'Twas in the dim Lyceum pit" 132 - - MISS KILMANSEGG-- - The Thread of Life 132 - "Young Ben, he was a nice young man," 1845 133 - "By different names were poets called," 1859 133 - "A world of whim I wandered in of late," 1878 134 - - - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. - - A PSALM OF LIFE-- - A Psalm of Life Assurance, 1869 63 - A Psalm of Fiction 63 - Miss M. to Mr. Green 63 - Bachelor's Life, 1872 64 - The Maiden's Dream of Life 64 - On Campbell's "Lives of the Chancellors" 64 - A Noble Ambition, 1873 66 - The Liberal Psalm of Life, 1875 66 - A Psalm of Life at Sixty, 1879 66 - "Lives of wealthy men remind us" 67 - To my Scout at Breakfast 67 - "Wives of great men all remind us" 67 - - BEWARE! - Take Care 67 - Beware! (of the Rink), 1876 67 - Beware! (of Lord Salisbury), 1882 68 - - SONG OF THE SILENT LAND-- - Song of the Irish Land, 1881 91 - Song of the Oyster Land, 1882 91 - - THE NORMAN BARON-- - The Repentant Baron, 1871 91 - - THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR-- - Calverley's Ode to Tobacco 92 - THE SONG OF HIAWATHA-- - Hiawatha, a Parody 71 - The Song of Drop o' Wather, 1856 72 - Song of In-the-Water 75 - Song of Lower-Water 75 - The Wallflowers, 1872 75 - The Song of Nicotine, 1874 76 - The Bump Supper, 1874 76 - The Legend of Ken-e-li, 1875 77 - The Song of the Beetle 77 - The Hunting of Cetewayo, 1879 78 - Hiawatha's Photographing, 1883 78 - The Lawn-Tennis Party at Pepperhanger, 1883 79 - The Song of Hiawatha, by Shirley Brooks 80 - Howlawaya, the Quack Doctor, 1853 80 - Milk-and-Watha 80 - Princess Toto 80 - Revenge, a Rhythmic Recollection, 1877 80 - The Song of Big Ben, 1877 95 - The Song of Pahtahquahong, 1881 98 - Piamater, by Alfred Longcove 98 - - THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH-- - Shortfellow sums up Longfellow 80 - - EVANGELINE-- - The Wagner Festival 80 - Picnic-aline, 1855 80, 102 - Nauvoo 94 - Town and Gown, 1865 102 - A Voice from the Far West, 1859 103 - Sister Beatrice, 1882 103 - - THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH-- - The Village Blacksmith as he is, 1873 68 - The Night Policeman, 1875 68 - The Village Grog Shop, 1878 69 - The English Judge, 1879 69 - The Village Beauty, 1880 69 - The British M.P., 1883 70 - The Village Pax 70 - The Village Woodman, 1884 70 - - EXCELSIOR-- - Excelsior in "Pidgin English"--"Topside Galah" 81 - "Your name and college," 1863 81 - XX--oh lor! 82 - The Theatre. "Ugh! Turn him out," 1874 82 - "The price of meat was rising fast," 1876 83 - "Clean Your Door-step, Marm!" 83 - "Egg-shell she o'er," 1876 83 - Those Horrid Schools, 1861 84 - That Thirty-four, 1880 84 - Tobacco Smoke, 1864 84 - Obstructionists 85 - Endymion (by Lord Beaconsfield), 1880 85 - A "Common" Grievance--"The Heath is ours!" 85 - "And felt so sore" 86 - Sapolio 86 - 13, Cross Cheaping 87 - Pilosagine 87 - The Imperceptible 87 - Ozokerit, 1870 87 - A Plumber, 1883 99 - Dyspepsia, 1868 100 - The Bicycle, 1880 101 - Upidee, Upida 101 - Exitium, 1884 101 - "Don't bother us!" 1884 101 - - CURFEW-- - The Close of the Season 88 - The End, 1880 88 - - THE BRIDGE-- - The Bridge (by Longus Socius), 1866 89 - The Rink, 1876 89 - The Whitefriargate Bridge, 1872 89 - Sunset, 1873 90 - "I stood in the Quad at Midnight" 98 - What is in an aim, 1865 102 - - THE SLAVE'S DREAM-- - The Swell's Dream, 1883 90 - - THE SAGA OF KING OLAF-- - Queen Sigrid, the Haughty 92 - The Saga of the Skaterman, 1884 93 - A Modern Saga, 1879 93 - The Poets on the Marriage with a Deceased Wife's - Sister Bill (Parodies of Longfellow and - Swinburne) 100 - The Derby Week, 1878 92 - - - William Morris. - - The Monthly Parodies 65 - - - Bayard Taylor. - - DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB 93 - Sir Eggnogg 45 - Nauvoo 94 - The Sewing Machine 94 - Eustace Green 181 - - - Alfred, Lord Tennyson (Poet Laureate). - - Tennyson's Early Career 3 - Tennyson's Lineage 28 - Tennyson as Poet Laureate 33 - Tennyson's Plagiarisms 181 - TIMBUCTOO, The Cambridge Prize Poem, 1829, - Thackeray's Parody on 3 - - LILIAN-- - Caroline 5 - - MARIANA-- - Mariana at the Railway Station 4 - The Wedding Dress 5 - The Bow Street Grange 17 - Behind Time 48 - The Clerk, 1842 57 - The Baggage Man 58 - On a Dull old Five-Act Play, 1848 142 - The Exiled Londoner, 1848 142 - Lord Tomnoddy in the Final Schools, 1868 143 - "They lifted him with kindly care" 144 - The M.P. on the Railway Committee, 1845 145 - The Squatter's 'Baccy Famine, 1880 178 - - RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS-- - Recollections of the Stock Exchange 186 - - A CHARACTER-- - A Character (M. Jullien) 24 - - THE POET-- - The Poet of the Period 6 - - THE BALLAD OF ORIANA-- - "Oriana" at the Globe Theatre 4 - The Ballad of Boreäna 17 - - CIRCUMSTANCE-- - Tit for Tat 56 - Circumstance, 1848 145 - - THE MERMAN-- - The Laureate 5 - - THE MERMAID-- - The Mermaid at the Aquarium 6 - - MARGARET-- - Mary Ann 9 - - THE TWO VOICES-- - The Three Voices 50 - The Two Voices, as heard by Jones 186 - - ŒNONE-- - The New Œnone 16 - - THE SISTERS-- - Matrimonial Expediency 7 - - THE PALACE OF ART-- - "I built myself a high-art pleasure-house." 18 - "I built my _Cole_ a lordly pleasure-house," 1862 145 - "I built myself a lordly picture-place," 1877 146 - - LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE-- - Lady Clara V. de V. 7 - Baron Alfred Vere de Vere 27 - Baron Alfred, T. de T. 49 - Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square 56 - The Premier's Lament 56 - Captain Falcon of the Guards, 1848 148 - The Russian Czar, 1854 148 - Rustic Admiration of Lady Clara, 1868 149 - Lady Clara in the South, 1870 149 - The Vicar's Surplice, 1875 149 - Rhyme for Rogers, 1884 166 - A Parody Advertisement of Velveteen 185 - - THE MAY QUEEN-- - The Biter Bit 9 - The May Queen Corrected, 1879 10 - A Farewell Ode to the Brompton Boilers 10 - The "May" of the Queen (Judge May) 11 - The Play King (Henry Irving) 11 - The Opening of the New Law Courts 12 - The Queen of the Fête 19 - Election's Eve 20 - "I'm to be One of the Peers, Vicky" 36 - August the Twelfth, 1869 144 - A May Dream of the Female Examination 149 - The Dray Queen 150 - The May Queen in the Existing Climate 151 - The Sight-Seeing Emperor, 1877 152 - The Welsher's Lament, 1878 152 - The Modern May Queen, 1881 152 - The Penge Mystery Trial, 1877 152 - The May Exam. (By A. Pennysong) 153 - The Premier's Lament, 1884 154 - The New Lord Mayor, 1881 154 - The Lord Mayor to the Lady Mayoress, 1884 154 - The Last Lord Mayor to his Favourite Beadle 155 - The Eve of the General Election, 1884 155 - A Tory Lord on the Franchise Bill, 1884 155 - On a Debate on the Franchise Bill, 1884 155 - The Premier to Mrs. Gladstone, 1884 156 - The Promise of May, 1882 156 - The May Queen of 1879 162 - "Awake I must, and early," 1861 186 - Baron Honour, 1884 186 - - THE LOTUS EATERS-- - The Whitebait Eaters 8 - The Ministers at Greenwich 61 - - A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN-- - "I read, before I fell into a doze" 8 - "Long time I fed my eyes on that strange scene" 20 - A Dream of Queer Women 54 - A Dream of Fair Women, and others 55 - - A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN-- - "Dreaming, methought I heard the Laureate's Song" 55 - A Dream of Great Players (Lawn Tennis) 160 - The Dream of Unfair Women 181 - - "YOU ASK ME WHY, THO' ILL AT EASE"-- - The Laureate in Parliament 54 - The New Umbrella, 1882 162 - - "OF OLD SAT FREEDOM ON THE HEIGHTS"-- - "Not Old, Stood Pam Upon the Heights," 1861 163 - - TITHONUS-- - Parody from "The World," 1879 60 - Tithonus in Oxford 60 - Lord Beaconsfield as Tithonus, 1879 163 - - LOCKSLEY HALL-- - "Cousins, leave me here a little, in Lawn Tennis you excel" 15 - Bacchanalian Dreamings 15 - The Lay of the Lovelorn 21 - Vauxhall 23 - Sir Rupert, the Red 24 - Cousin Amy's View, 1878 50 - Locksley Hall, before he passed his "Smalls" 163 - Battue shooting, 1884 164 - Granny's House, 1854 177 - Codgers' Hall, 1876 185 - - GODIVA-- - The Modern Lady Godiva 13 - Madame Warton as "Godiva," 1848 164 - - THE LORD OF BURLEIGH-- - Unfortunate Miss Bailey 47 - Parody in "Figaro" 61 - The Lord Burghley, 1884 160 - The Faithless Peeler, 1848 161 - The Lord of Burleigh to the Land Bill, 1881 161 - A Burlington House Ballad, 1884 162 - - THE VOYAGE-- - The Excursion Train 61 - Parody from "Kottabos," 1875 165 - - A FAREWELL-- - "_Flow down, cold Rivulet, to the Sea_"-- - "Bite on, thou Pertinacious Flea" 30 - "Rise up, cold Reverend, to a See" 30 - Ode to Aldgate Pump 30 - "Flow down, false Rivulet, to the Sea" 30 - - THE BEGGAR MAID-- - The Undergrad 30 - - BREAK, BREAK, BREAK-- - To my Scout 14 - The Bather's Dirge 15 - The Musical Pitch 15 - Tennyson at Billingsgate in 1882 15 - Parody from "Snatches of Song" 24 - Parody from "Punch's Almanac," 1884 24 - The Unsuccessful Stock Exchange Speculator 60 - Hot, Hot, Hot 165 - Pelt, Pelt, Pelt 165 - Wake, Wake, Wake, 1884 166 - To Professor O. C. Marsh, U.S. 181 - - ENOCH ARDEN-- - Enoch Arden, continued, 1866 166 - Enoch's "Hard 'Un" 167 - - THE BROOK-- - The Tinker 30 - The Rinker 31 - Song of the Irwell 57 - Keeping Term after Commemoration 168 - The Maiden's Lament, 1874 168 - "Flow down, old River, to the Sea" 169 - Our River (Old Father Thames), 1884 169 - The (North) Brook 169 - The Plumber and Builder 178 - On Mr. Gladstone's Visit to Scotland (Liberal Lyrics, - 1854) 179 - The Train 179 - The Mill, 1884 179 - - THE PRINCESS-- - The Princess Ida 52 - - "HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR, DEAD"-- - "Home they brought her Lap-dog Dead" 29 - "Home they brought her Sailor Son" 29 - "Home they brought Montmorres, dead" 29 - "Home they brought the Gallant Red" 57 - "Home they brought the news with dread" 58 - "Lay the stern old warrior down," 1865 170 - "Home they brought her husband, 'tight'" 170 - "Home the 'Worrier' comes! We read" 170 - - TEARS, IDLE TEARS-- - Peers, Idle Peers, 1868 170 - Tears, Idle Tears, 1866 181 - (To the Right Hon. Spencer Walpole). - - "ASK ME NO MORE." - To an Importunate Host 170 - - THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE-- - Charge of the Light (Irish) Brigade 31 - "The Two Hundred" Mechanical Engineers in Dublin, 1865 37 - The Half Hundred (of Coals) 37 - The Doctor's Heavy Brigade 38 - The Charge of the Black Brigade, 1865 38 - At the Magdalen Ground 39 - Charge of the Fair Brigade 39 - The Charge of the "Bustle" 40 - On the Six Hundredth Representation of "Our - Boys" at the Vaudeville Theatre 40 - The Vote of Six Millions 41 - The Charge of the "Rad" Brigade 41 - A Lay of the Law Courts 41 - The Latest Charge (against Mr. Biggar, M. P., - for Breach of Promise of Marriage) 41 - The Charge of the Gownsmen at the Anti-Tobacco Lecture 52 - The Charge of the Light Ballet 53 - Tragic Episode in an Omnibus 53 - Michael Drayton on the Battle of Agincourt 171 - The "Light" Cavalier's Charge 171 - The Charge of the Court Brigade, 1874 171 - The Battle of Bartlemy's, 1875 172 - Charge of the Light Brigade at the Alexandra Palace - Banquet, 1875 72 - On the Rink, 1876 173 - "Half a Duck! Half a Duck!" 173 - "Half a League!" (Tea Advertisement) 185 - - A WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA-- - Britannia's Welcome to the Illustrious Stranger, - Ismail Pasha, 1869 35 - On a Statue to the late John Brown 35 - A Welcome to Alexandra (Palace) 61 - On the Opening of the Alexandra Palace, May, 1875 173 - - THE GRANDMOTHER-- - Hard Times 58 - Parody in "Snatches of Song" 59 - "And Willy with Franchise Horn," 1884 168 - - IN THE GARDEN AT SWAINSTON-- - In the Schools at Oxford 32 - - THE VICTIM-- - The Victim 46 - The Prophet Enoch, 1860 47 - - THE HIGHER PANTHEISM-- - The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell 51 - - THE VOICE AND THE PEAK-- - The Voice and the Pique, 1874 178 - - "FLOWER IN THE CRANNIED WALL"-- - "Terrier in my Granny's Hall" 174 - - IN MEMORIAM-- - Richmond, 1856 25 - In Immemoriam 29 - In Memoriam, £. s. d., Baden-Baden 48 - Punch to Salisbury 48 - The Rinker's Solace 48 - The Lawyer's Soliloquy 61 - "I Hold this Truth with one who sings" 61 - Ozokerit 174 - In Memoriam Technicam, 1865 174 - In Memoriam; a Collie Dog, 1884 186 - - "RING OUT WILD BELLS TO THE WILD SKY." - "Wring out the Clouds," 1872 174 - "Ring out, Glad Bells," 1876 175 - "Ring out Fool's Bells," 1881 175 - - "COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD." - "Nay, I cannot come into the garden just now" 7 - Maud in the Garden 25 - Anti-Maud 25 - The Poet's Birth, a Mystery, 1859 175 - "Chirrup, chirp, chirp, chirp twitter" 176 - Midsummer Madness.--"I am a Hearthrug" 176 - "Birds in St. Stephen's Garden" 176 - Song by Burne-Jones, "Come into my Studio, Maud," 1878 179 - Come into "The Garden," Maud (Covent Garden) 1882 180 - - THE IDYLLS OF THE KING-- - Voyage de Guillaume (Sept. 1883) 13 - The Last Peer, December, 1883 27 - Parody of the _Morte d'Arthur_, by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell 32 - The Coming K---- 35 - Vilien 34 - Goanveer 34 - The Very Last Idyll 44 - Sir Tray; an Arthurian Idyll 44 - Sir Eggnogg 45 - The Players; a Lawn Tennisonian Idyll 45 - An Idyll of Phatte and Leene, 1873 181 - Eustace Green, or the Medicine Bottle 181 - The Passing of M'Arthur, 1881 182 - Garnet. (An Idyll of the Queen), 1882 182 - Jack Sprat. 1884 182 - The Quest of the Holy Poker, 1870 183 - Willie and Minnie, 1876 183 - The Latest Tournament, 1872 183 - The Princes' Noses, 1880 183 - On the Hill; a Fragment, 1882 183 - Tory Revels, 1882 183 - London to Leicester; a Bicycling Idyll, 1882 183 - The Lost Tennisiad, 1883 183 - The Lay of the Seventh Tournament, 1883 56, 183 - - "LATE, LATE, SO LATE," (Guinevere)-- - Mala-Fide Travellers, 1872 144 - - THE WAR ("RIFLEMEN FORM")-- - "Into them, Gown!" 1861 147 - - 1865-1866--"I STOOD ON A TOWER IN THE WET"-- - 1867-1868--"I sat in a 'Bus in the Wet" 46 - "Tennyson Stood in the Wet" 46 - "I Stood by a River in the Wet," 1868 180 - - ON A SPITEFUL LETTER-- - The Spiteful Letter, 1874 59 - From Algernon C. Swinburne 60 - From Walt Whitman 60 - - HANDS ALL ROUND-- - Slops all Round 43 - Drinks all Round 43, 186 - Northampton's Freemen 43 - Pots all Round 186 - Tennysonian Toryism 186 - Cheers all Round 186 - Howls all Round 186 - - RIZPAH-- - Rizpah, 1883 184 - - THE REVENGE, A BALLAD OF THE FLEET-- - Retribution, a Ballad of the Sloe 42 - - DE PROFUNDIS-- - "Awfully Deep, my Boy, Awfully Deep" 52 - - "THOSE THAT OF LATE HAD FLEETED FAR AND FAST," - _Prefatory Sonnet to the "Nineteenth Century."_ - - The Last Hat Left. - "Those low-born cubs who sneaked away so fast" 183 - - MONTENEGRO-- - The City Montenegro, 1880 183 - - ACHILLES OVER THE TRENCH-- - A Parody on 47 - - DESPAIR; A DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE, 1881-- - Disgust; a Dramatic Monologue, 1881 184 - - THE POETASTERS, A DRAMATIC CANTATA, 1884 86 - - THE PROMISE OF MAY-- - Reprint of the Play-bill, dated November, 1882 157 - Parodies on the Play-bill 159 - The Marquis of Queensberry on "The Promise of May" 158 - - - Miscellaneous Parodies on Tennyson. - - A Laureate's Log. September, 1883 49 - Papa's Theory 57 - "The Bugle calls in Bayreuth's Halls" 57 - The Amiable Dun, a Fragment 61 - Early Spring, in an American Paper 62 - "In Hungerford, did some wise man," 1844 145 - Mrs. Henry Fawcett on the Education of Women 150 - (_Apropos_ of a Parody on the Collegiate Examinations of - Female Students.) - "British Birds," by Mortimer Collins 186 - - - Reverend Charles Wolfe. - - THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE 105 - "_Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note._" - - The disputed origin of the Poem 105 - "Ni le son du tambour ... ni la marche funèbre" 106 - "Not a _sous_ had he got, not a guinea or note" 107 - "Not a trap was heard, or a Charley's note" 108 - Ode on the Death and Burial of the Constitution, 1832-- - "Not a moan was heard--not a funeral note" 108 - On the threatened Death of John O'Connell 108 - "He looked glum when he heard, by a friendly note," 1864 109 - "Not a laugh was heard, not a joyous note," 109 - The Flight of O'Neill, the Invader of Canada 109 - Running him in, by a Good Templar 110 - "Not a hiss was heard, not an angry yell," 1875 110 - The Burial of the Title "Queen," 1876 110 - On the Downfall of the Beaconsfield Government, 1880 111 - "Not a hum was heard, not a jubilant note" 111 - "Not a sigh was heard, not a tear-drop fell" 111 - The Burial of the Masher, 1883 112 - "He felt highly absurd, as he put on his coat" 112 - "Not a mute one word at the funeral spoke" 113 - A Moonlight Flit 140 - The Burial of Pantomime, 1846-7 141 - The Burial of Philip Van Artevelde (Princess's Theatre) 141 - The Burial of the Bills, 1850 141 - A Tale of a Tub 141 - The Death of the "Childerses," 1884 187 - The Burial of "The Season," 1884 187 - The Burial of my Fellow Lodger's Banjo 187 - The Fate of General Gordon, 1884 187 - One more Victim at Monte Carlo 187 - The Burial of the Duke of Wellington 188 - The Burial of the Bachelor 188 - The Marriage of Sir F. Boore 188 - Working Men at the Health Exhibition 188 - The Removal of the House of Lords 188 - The Spinster Householder Martyr 188 - The Murder of a Beethoven Sonata 189 - The Burial of the Pauper 189 - The Fate of the Franchise Bill, 1884 189 - The Defeated Cricket Eleven 190 - The Marriage of Sir John Smith, 1854 190 - - [Illustration] - - - - - - PARODIES - - OF - THE WORKS OF - - ENGLISH & AMERICAN AUTHORS, - - COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY - WALTER HAMILTON, - - _Fellow of the Royal Geographical and Royal Historical Societies; - Author of "The Æsthetic Movement in England," "The Poets Laureate - of England," - "A Memoir of George Cruikshank," etc._ - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -I have, for many years past, been collecting Parodies of the works of the -most celebrated British and American Authors. This I have done, _not_ -because I entirely approve of the custom of turning high-class work into -ridicule, but because many of the parodies are in themselves works of -considerable literary merit. Moreover, as "imitation is the sincerest -form of flattery," so does a parody show that its original has acquired a -certain celebrity, for no author would waste his time, or his talent, in -composing a burlesque of an unknown, or obscure work. - -Numerous articles on parodies are to be found scattered up and down in odd -corners of old magazines and reviews, a few small books have been written -on the topic; but, until now, no attempt has been made to give, in a -connected form, a history of parody with examples and explanatory notes. - -This, then, is what I propose to do in the following articles, and those -who desire to possess a complete set of parodies on any favourite author, -would do well to preserve these papers for future reference. - -PARODY is a form of composition of a somewhat ungracious description, -as it owes its very existence to the work it caricatures; but it has -some beneficial results in drawing our attention to the defects of -some authors, whose stilted language and grandiloquent phrases have -veiled their poverty of ideas, their sham sentiment, and their mawkish -affectations. - -The first attribute of a parody is that it should present a sharp contrast -to the original either in subject, or treatment of the subject; that if -the original subject should be some lofty theme, the parody may reduce it -to a prosaic matter-of-fact narrative. If, on the other hand, the topic -selected be one of every day life, it may be made exceedingly amusing -if described in high-flown mock heroic diction. If the original errs in -sentimental affectation, so much the better for the parodist. Thus many -of Tom Moore's best known songs are mere windy platitudes in very musical -verse, which afford excellent and legitimate materials for ridicule. The -nearer the original diction is preserved, and the fewer the alterations -needed to produce a totally opposite meaning or ridiculous contrast, the -more complete is the antithesis, the more striking is the parody; take for -instance Pope's well-known lines:-- - - "Here shall the Spring its earliest _sweets_ bestow, - Here the first _roses_ of the year shall blow," - -which, by the alteration of two words only, were thus applied by Miss -Katherine Fanshawe to the Regent's Park when it was first opened to the -public:-- - - "Here shall the Spring its earliest _coughs_ bestow, - Here the first _noses_ of the year shall blow." - -In this happy parody we have that "union of remote ideas," which is said, -and said truly, to constitute the essence of wit. Even the most serious -and religious works have been parodied, and by authors of the highest -position. Thus Luther mimicked the language of the Bible, and both -Cavaliers and Puritans railed at each other in Scriptural phraseology. -The Church services and Litanies of both the Catholic, and Protestant -Churches, have served in turn as originals for many bitter satires and -lampoons, directed at one time against the Church and the priests, at -another time in equally bitter invective against their opponents. - -To undertake the composition of parodies, as the word is generally -comprehended--that is, to make a close imitation of some particular poem, -though it should be characteristic of the author--would be at times rather -a flat business. Even the Brothers Smith in "Rejected Addresses," and -Bon Gaultier in his "Ballads," admirable as they were, stuck almost too -closely to their selected models; and Phœbe Carey, who has written some -of the best American parodies, did the same thing. It is an evidence of a -poet's distinct individuality, when he can be amusingly imitated. We can -only make those the object of our imitations whose manner, or dialect, -stamps itself so deeply into our minds that a new cast can be taken. -But how could one imitate Robert Pollok's "Course of Time," or Young's -"Night Thoughts," or Blair's "Grave," or any other of those masses of -words, which are too ponderous for poetry, and much too respectable for -absurdity! Either extreme will do for a parody, excellence or imbecility; -but the original must at least have _a distinct, pronounced character_. - -Certain well known poems are so frequently selected as models for parodies -that it will only be possible to select a few from the best of them; -to re-publish every parody that has appeared on Tennyson's "Charge of -the Light Brigade," E. A. Poe's "The Raven," Hamlet's Soliloquy, or -Longfellow's "Excelsior," would be a tedious, and almost endless task. - -Prose parodies, though less numerous than those in verse, are often far -more amusing, and it will be found that Dr. Johnson's ponderous sentences, -Carlyle's rugged eloquence, and Dickens' playful humour and tender pathos, -lend themselves admirably to parody. - -The first portion of this work will be devoted to the parodies themselves, -accompanied by short notes sufficient to explain such allusions as may, -in time, appear obscure; the second will contain a full bibliographical -account of all the principal collections of Parodies and Works on the -subject, such as the "Probationary Odes," Hone's Trials, the "Rejected -Addresses," and the late M. Octave Delepierre's _Essai sur la Parodie_. -The latter work, which was published by Trübner & Co. in 1870, gave an -account of old Greek and Roman, and of modern French and English Parodies. -I had the pleasure of supplying M. Delepierre with the materials for -his chapter on English Parodies, but, owing to the limited space at his -command, he was only able to quote a verse or two of the best parody of -each description. My aim will be to give each parody intact, except in the -few cases where I have been unable to obtain the author's permission to do -so. - - WALTER HAMILTON. - - - - -Alfred Tennyson. - -_Poet Laureate._ - - -ALFRED TENNYSON, the third of seven brothers, was born August 5th, 1809, -at Somersby, a small village near Horncastle, in Lincolnshire. His -father, Dr. George Clayton Tennyson, was the rector of this parish, he -was a man remarkable for his strength, stature, and varied attainments -as poet, painter, musician and linguist. In 1827, Alfred Tennyson, with -his elder brother Charles, both then being scholars at the Louth Grammar -school, published a small volume entitled "Poems by Two Brothers." Shortly -afterwards, these two brothers removed to Trinity College, Cambridge, and -in 1829, Alfred Tennyson obtained the Chancellor's Gold Medal for his poem -on "Timbuctoo." His subsequent poetical works rapidly attracted attention, -and, on the death of William Wordsworth, he was created Poet Laureate, the -Warrant being dated the 19th November, 1850. As a poet he has achieved -almost the highest fame, but in his numerous efforts as a dramatist he has -been less successful. - -For the consideration of the Parodies of Tennyson's poems, they may -conveniently be divided into three periods, namely, his early Poems, poems -in connection with his appointment in 1850 to the office of Poet Laureate, -and Poems since that date. Although Tennyson has suppressed many of his -early works, yet he occasionally furbishes up, and re-issues as a new poem -some of his youthful compositions. - -Fastidious as he is known to be in his selection of what he thus -re-publishes, it is still a matter of some surprise that he should have -entirely suppressed his prize poem _Timbuctoo_, which would always be of -interest as a specimen of his early work, and is, besides, far removed -above the average of Prize Poems. - -The poems were sent in for competition in the month of April, 1829; and -on June 12, 1829, the _Cambridge Chronicle_ recorded that "On Saturday -last, the Chancellor's Gold Medal for the best English poem by a resident -undergraduate was adjudged to Alfred Tennyson, of Trinity College." -Shortly afterwards the poem was published, and was favourably reviewed in -_The Athenæum_, which speaking of Prize poems generally, stated, "These -productions have often been ingenious and elegant, but we have never -before seen one of them which indicated really first-rate poetical genius, -and which would have done honour to any man that ever wrote. _Such, we do -not hesitate to affirm, is the little work before us._" - -W. M. Thackeray was at Cambridge at the same time as Tennyson, and early -in 1829 he commenced the publication of a small paper entitled "THE -SNOB, a Literary and Scientific Journal, _not_ conducted by members of -the University." This was published by W. H. Smith, of Rose Crescent, -Cambridge, and ran for eleven weeks: its contents were humorous sketches -in prose and verse, and the most remarkable paper amongst them is the -following droll poem on _Timbuctoo_, which appeared on the 30th April, -1829, and has most unaccountably been omitted from recent editions of -Thackeray's works:-- - - -_To the Editor of the_ "SNOB." - - SIR,--Though your name be _Snob_, I trust you will not refuse - this tiny "Poem of a Gownsman," which was unluckily not finished - on the day appointed for delivery of the several copies of verses - on Timbuctoo. I thought, Sir, it would be a pity that such a poem - should be lost to the world; and conceiving "THE SNOB" to be the - most widely circulated periodical in Europe, I have taken the - liberty of submitting it for insertion or approbation.--I am, Sir, - yours, &c., &c. - - -TIMBUCTOO.--PART I. - -_The Situation._ - - In Africa (a quarter of the world), - Men's skins are black, their hair is crisp and curl'd, - And somewhere there, unknown to public view, - A mighty city lies, called Timbuctoo. - -_The Natural History._ - - There stalks the tiger,--there the lion roars, 5 - Who sometimes eats the luckless blackamoors; - All that he leaves of them the monster throws - To jackals, vultures, dogs, cats, kites and crows; - His hunger thus the forest monster gluts, - And then lies down 'neath trees called cocoa-nuts. 10 - -_The lion hunt._ - - Quick issue out, with musket, torch, and brand, - The sturdy blackamoors, a dusky band! - The beast is found--pop goes the musketoons-- - The lion falls covered with horrid wounds. - -_Their lives at home._ - - At home their lives in pleasure always flow, 15 - But many have a different lot to know! - -_Abroad._ - - They're often caught and sold as slaves, alas! - -_Reflections on the foregoing._ - - Thus men from highest joy to sorrow pass, - Yet though thy monarch and thy nobles boil - Rack and molasses in Jamaica's isle; 20 - Desolate Africa! thou art lovely yet!! - One heart yet beats which ne'er thee shall forget. - - What though thy maidens are a blackish brown, - Does virtue dwell in whiter breasts alone? - Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no! 25 - It shall not, must not, cannot, e'er be so. - The day shall come when Albion's self shall feel - Stern Afric's wrath, and writhe 'neath Afric's steel. - - I see her tribes the hill of glory mount, - And sell their sugars on their own account; 30 - While round her throne the prostrate nations come, - Sue for her rice, and barter for her rum! 32 - - NOTES.--Lines 1 and 2.--See _Guthrie's Geography_. The site of - Timbuctoo is doubtful; the author has neatly expressed this in the - poem, at the same time giving us some slight hints relative to its - situation. - - Line 5.--So Horace: _leonum arida nutrix_. - - Line 13.--"Pop goes the musketoons." A learned friend suggested - "Bang" as a stronger expression, but as African gunpowder is - notoriously bad, the author thought "Pop" the better word. - - Lines 15-18.--A concise but affecting description is here given of - the domestic habits of the people. The infamous manner in which they - are entrapped and sold as slaves is described, and the whole ends - with an appropriate moral sentiment. The enthusiasm the author feels - is beautifully expressed in lines 25 and 26. - -Although this poem is not actually a parody of Tennyson's _Timbuctoo_, it -is a clever burlesque of Prize poems in general, and derives interest as -being one of Thackeray's earliest writings. - -The first independent volume of poems which Tennyson published in 1830, -contained _Mariana_, _The Ballad of Oriana_, _Adeline_, _Lilian_, _The -Poet_, _The Merman_, and _the Mermaid_, all of which are so well known -that the following parodies require no introduction:-- - - -ORIANA. - -_A Tennyson-cum-Albery Ballad._ - - I went to see thee at the Globe, - _Oriana!_ - I tried thy mystery to probe, - _Oriana!_ - But Oh! long talk, bare limbs, rich robe, - Gems decking hand or pendant lobe, - _Oriana!_ - Would tire the patience out of Job, - _Oriana!_ - I saw the lime-light shadows flinging, - _Oriana!_ - I saw black boys, a mattress bringing, - _Oriana!_ - I saw thee to forlorn hope clinging, - I heard the bells of faërie ringing, - _Oriana;_ - And (out of tune) a chorus singing, - _Oriana!_ - I saw a high-priest sage and hoary, - _Oriana;_ - "Friend WAGGLES" struggling with a story, - _Oriana_. - A youth, in managerial glory, - Striving in vain, tho' _con amore_, - _Oriana_, - As (save the mark!) _primo tenore_, - _Oriana_, - I came! I saw! I mark'd each word, - _Oriana!_ - Ah, had my visit been deferr'd, - _Oriana_, - Some better things I might have heard; - But judging from what then occurr'd, - _Oriana_, - You seem'd a trifle too absurd, - _Oriana_. - - From _Fun_, February 26th, 1873. - -"Oriana," a romantic legend in three acts, by James Albery, music by F. -Clay, was first performed at the Globe Theatre, on Saturday, February -15th, 1873. The lessee and manager, Mr. H. J. Montague, performed the part -of King Raymond, that of Oriana being represented by Miss Rose Massey. -The plot was founded on a fairy tale, slightly resembling Mr. Gilbert's -"Palace of Truth," but, beyond the name, the play had nothing in common -with Tennyson's poem of "Oriana." - - * * * * * - - -MARIANA. - -(_At the Railway Station._) - - Her parcels, tied with many a knot, - Were thickly labelled, one and all; - And sitting down beside the lot, - She waited for the train to call. - The waiting-room looked sad and strange-- - Closed was the booking-office latch! - She watched the sleepy porter scratch - His head, or whistle as a change; - She only said, "The night is dreary-- - It cometh not," she said; - She said, "I am aweary, aweary-- - I would I were in bed." - - She sought the grim refreshment stall-- - The saucy barmaid long had slept; - O'er biscuit, bun, and sandwich small - The shining beetles slowly crept. - Hard by a signal post alway - Shot coloured beams into the dark. - She called the porter to remark, - In tones the opposite of gay: - "The hour is late, the night is dreary-- - It cometh not," she said; - Then mentally: "The man is beery-- - I would I were in bed." - - About the middle of the night - She heard the shrill steam-whistle blow, - And saw the signals gleaming bright; - And from dark pens the oxen's low - Came to her; but she watched with pain - A train with many a cattle van - Sweep past her, and the signal man - Reversed his lamps, and snoozed again. - She only said, "The night is dreary-- - It cometh not," she said; - She said, "I am aweary, aweary, - Of lamps, green, white, and red!" - - The tired officials kept aloof, - The telegraphic wires did sound - Their notes Æolian on the roof, - And goods trains shunting did confound - Her sense; yet still she waited on, - Until the porter came in sight-- - "There is no other train to-night; - The next will stop at early dawn." - She only said, "I am aweary; - It seems to me," she said, - "Your tables, like yourself, are beery-- - Go find me now a bed." - - * * * * * - - -THE WEDDING DRESS. - - In picturesque confusion lies - Her scattered finery on the floor, - And here and there her handmaid flies - With parcels to increase the store. - But dolefully she paced the room, - Although it was her wedding morn, - And often spoke in tones of scorn, - And brow of ever-deepening gloom. - - She only said, "The morn is dreary;" - "It cometh not," she said. - She said, "The milliner is weary, - Or stayed too late in bed." - - She hears the sound of pipe and drum, - And from the window looketh she: - Nodding their heads before her come - The merry Teuton minstrelsy, - Who wait to play "The Wedding March." - A member of the "force" stalks by, - And little urchins mocking cry, - "Oh, ain't he swallowed lots o' starch?" - - She laughed not, for she heard a chime: - "Eleven o'clock!" she said. - "I wonder if 'twill be in time? - I would that I were wed." - - How swiftly now the minutes pass. - With ribbons, laces, pins, and thread-- - With peeps into the looking-glass, - And tossings of the pretty head. - Full half an hour of anxious strife; - But still no wedding dress is there - To decorate the form so fair - Of her who would be made a wife. - - "Three quarters!" cried she weeping--weary. - "It cometh now!" they said. - The maiden looked no longer dreary, - But hastened to be wed. - - From _Funny Folks_. - - * * * * * - -In the _Bon Gaultier Ballads_ is a parody of Lilian entitled:-- - - -CAROLINE. - - Lightsome, brightsome, cousin mine, - Easy, breezy, Caroline! - With thy locks all raven-shaded, - From thy merry brow up-braided, - And thine eyes of laughter full, - Brightsome cousin mine! - Thou in chains of love hast bound me-- - Wherefore dost thou flit around me, - Laughter-loving Caroline! - - When I fain would go to sleep - In my easy chair, - Wherefore on my slumbers creep-- - Wherefore start me from repose, - Tickling of my hookèd nose, - Pulling of my hair? - Wherefore, then, if thou dost love me, - So to words of anger move me, - Corking of this face of mine, - Tricksy cousin Caroline? - - * * * - - Would she only say she'd love me, - Winsome, tinsome, Caroline, - Unto such excess 'twould move me, - Teazing, pleasing, cousin mine! - That she might the live-long day - Undermine the snuffer-tray, - Tickle still my hookèd nose, - Startle me from calm repose - With her pretty persecution; - Throw the tongs against my shins, - Run me through and through with pins, - Like a piercèd cushion; - Would she only say she'd love me, - Darning-needles should not move me; - But, reclining back I'd say, - "Dearest! there's the snuffer-tray; - Pinch, O pinch those legs of mine! - Cork me, cousin Caroline!" - - * * * * * - -I next give an extract from a capital parody of _The Merman_, taken from -_The Bon Gaultier Ballads_, in which the allusions to the Laureate's -office are happily introduced. - - -THE LAUREATE. - - Who would not be - The Laureate bold, - With his butt of sherry - To keep him merry, - And nothing to do but to pocket his gold? - 'Tis I would be the Laureate bold! - When the days are hot, and the sun is strong, - I'd lounge in the gateway all the day long, - With Her Majesty's footmen in crimson and gold. - I'd care not a pin for the waiting lord; - But I'd lie on my back on the smooth greensward - With a straw in my mouth, and an open vest, - And the cool wind blowing upon my breast, - And I'd vacantly stare at the clear blue sky, - And watch the clouds that are listless as I, - Lazily, lazily! - And I'd pick the moss and daisies white, - And chew their stalks with a nibbling bite; - And I'd let my fancies roam abroad - In search of a hint for a birthday ode, - Crazily, crazily! - - * * * * * - - Oh, would not that be a merry life, - Apart from care and apart from strife, - With the Laureate's wine, and the Laureate's pay, - And no deductions at quarter-day! - Oh, that would be the post for me! - With plenty to get and nothing to do, - But to deck a pet poodle with ribbons of blue, - And whistle a tune to the Queen's cockatoo, - And scribble of verses remarkably few, - And at evening empty a bottle or two! - Quaffingly, quaffingly! - - 'Tis I would be - The Laureate bold, - With my butt of sherry - To keep me merry, - And nothing to do but to pocket my gold! - - -THE MERMAID. - -(_By a disgusted Tar with a vague recollection of_ TENNYSON.) - -I. - - Who would be - A Mermaid dank. - Bobbing about - In a sort of tank, - For the crowd to see - At a shilling a head, - In doubt if it be - Alive or dead? - -II. - - _I_ would not be a Mermaid dank, - Flopping about in a Westminster tank, - Like a shabby sham at a country fair, - And by far the ugliest monster there; - Exposed to the Cockneys' vulgar chaff, - And the learned gush of the _Daily T._, - To be called a porpoise or ocean-calf, - Or a seven-foot slug from the deep blue sea. - _Me_ a Manatee? Dickens a bit! - The Mermaid of fiction was something fine, - A fish-tailed Siren given to sit - On a handy rock, 'midst the breezy brine, - Each golden curl with a comb of pearl - Arranging in many a taking twirl, - Like a free-and-easy nautical girl. - Taking a bath in a primitive style - Without any bother of dress or machine, - And likely the wandering tar to beguile, - If that Mariner chanced to be anyways green. - But your Modern Mermaid! good gracious me! - Who'd be inwiggled away from his tracks - Or driven to bung up his ears with wax - By the wiles and smiles of a Manatee? - A sort of shapeless squab sea-lubber, - A blundering bulk of leather and blubber, - Like an overgrown bottle of India-rubber; - The clumsiest, wobblingest, queerest of creatures, - With nothing but small gimlet-holes for features. - _This_ a Mermaid? Oh, don't tell me! - It's simply some sly scientifical spree, - And I mean to say it's a thundering shame - To bestow the Siren's respectable name, - Which savours of all that is rare and romantic, - On such a preposterous monster as this is, - Whose hideous phiz and ridiculous antic, - Would simply have frightened the mates of Ulysses. - Fancy the horror of blubberous kisses - From a mouth that's like a tarpaulin flap! - That Merman must be a most amorous chap - Who would sue her and woo her under the sea. - As TENNYSON sings--a nice treat it would be - Were a Mermaid merely a Manatee! - - From _Punch_, July 20th, 1878, in reference to the so-called - _Mermaid_ then being exhibited at the Westminster Aquarium. - - * * * * * - -Tennyson's--_The Poet_--was in fourteen verses of four lines each; it -commenced thus:-- - - "The poet in a golden clime was born, - With golden stars above; - Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, - The love of love." - - "He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, - He saw thro' his own soul. - The marvel of the everlasting will, - An open scroll," - - "Before him lay; with echoing feet he threaded - The secretest walks of fame: - The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headed - And wing'd with flame." - -The following parody, which appeared in _Punch_, was _apropos_ of the -poetry of the so-called "Fleshly School," and very closely follows the -diction of the original:-- - - -THE POET (OF THE PERIOD). - -_With Punch's apologies for the application of noble Stanzas to an ignoble -subject._ - - The Poet in a dismal clime was born, - With lurid stars above; - Dower'd with a taste for hate, a love for scorn, - A scorn for love. - - He glanced through life and death, through good and ill, - He glanced through his own soul; - And found all dead as a dishonoured bill, - Or emptied bowl. - - He thrummed his lay; with mincing feet he threaded - The walks of coterie fame: - On the dull arrows of his thought were threaded - _Concetti_ tame - - And pop-gun pellets from his lisping tongue, - Erratic in their flight, - From studio to drawing-room he flung, - Filling with light - - And mazèd phantasies each morbid mind, - Which, albeit lacking wit, - Like dandelion seeds blown by the wind, - In weak souls lit, - - Took shallow root, and springing up anew - Where'er they dropt, behold, - Like to the parent plant in semblance, grew - A weed as bold, - - And fitly furnished all abroad to fling - Fresh mockeries of truth, - And throng with poisonous blooms the verdant Spring - Of weak-kneed youth. - - Till many minds were lit with borrowed beams - Of an unwholesome fire; - And many fed their sick souls with hot dreams - Of vague desire. - - Thus trash was multiplied on trash; the world - Like a Gehenna glowed, - And through the clouds of Stygian dark upcurled, - Foul radiance flowed; - - And Licence lifted in that false sunrise - Her bold and brazen brow; - While Purity before her burning eyes - Melted like snow. - - There was red blood upon her trailing robes, - Lit by those lurid skies; - And round the hollow circles of the globes - Of her hot eyes, - - And on her robe's hem, "FOLLY" showed in flames - With "PHRENSY," names to shake - Coherency and sense--misleading names-- - And when she spake, - - Her words did gather fury as they ran, - And as mock lightning and stage thunder, - With firework flash and empty rataplan, - Make schoolboys wonder, - - So thrilled thro' fools her windy words. No sword - Of truth her right hand twirl'd, - But one bad Poet's scrawl, and with _his_ word - She bored the world. - - * * * * * - -In 1832 Tennyson published another small volume of poems which contained -that beautifully classical piece of blank verse _Œnone;_ _The Sisters_, -_The Palace of Art_, _Lady Clara Vere de Vere_, _The May Queen_, _The -Lotus-Eaters_, _The Dream of Fair Women_, and _Margaret_, all of which -have been so frequently parodied that selection is indeed difficult. - -The following parody of Tennyson's, _The Sisters_, was _apropos_ to a -division in the House of Commons, relative to the vexed question of -marriage with a deceased wife's sister, and appeared in _The Tomahawk_. - - -MATRIMONIAL EXPEDIENCY. - - They were two daughters of one race: - One dead, the other took her place; - Brotherly love? oh! fiddle-de-dee! - The _Noes_ were but one forty-four; - I'm backed by retrospective law; - Oh! the _Ayes_ were two forty-three! - - Who'd run a tilt 'gainst common sense? - I married for convenience; - Brotherly love? oh! fiddle-de-dee! - 'Tis wiser th' ills we _know_ to bear, - Than run the chance of worse elsewhere; - Oh! the _Ayes_ were two forty-three! - - Twice married--but I'm bound to state - Th' expediency of this is great; - Brotherly love? oh! fiddle-de-dee! - I'm now no worse off than before, - I only have _one_ mother-in-law, - And she's one too many for me! - - * * * * * - - A good many years ago a little volume, entitled "_Carols of - Cockayne_," written by the late Mr. Henry S. Leigh, (who died June, - 1883) had considerable success. It contained a number of Ballads - and Parodies, and amongst others two amusing imitations of Tennyson - (they can hardly be styled _parodies_), the first is in answer to - the Laureate's somewhat bitter attack on a lady entitled "Lady Clara - Vere de Vere:--" - - The Lady Clara V. de V. - Presents her very best regards - To that misguided Alfred T. - (With one of her enamell'd cards). - - Though uninclin'd to give offence, - The Lady Clara begs to hint - That Master Alfred's common sense - Deserts him utterly in print. - - The Lady Clara can but say - That always from the very first - She snubb'd in her decisive way - The hopes that silly Alfred nurs'd. - The fondest words that ever fell - From Lady Clara, when they met, - Were "How d'ye do? I hope you're well!" - Or else "The weather's very wet." - - To show a disregard for truth - By penning scurrilous attacks, - Appears to Lady C. in sooth - Like stabbing folks behind their backs. - The age of chivalry, she fears, - Is gone for good, since noble dames - Who irritate low sonneteers - Get pelted with improper names. - - The Lady Clara cannot think - What kind of pleasure can accrue - From wasting paper, pens, and ink, - On statements the reverse of true. - If Master Launcelot, one fine day, - (Urged on by madness or by malt,) - Destroy'd himself--can Alfred say - The Lady Clara was in fault? - - Her Ladyship needs no advice - How time and money should be spent, - And can't pursue at any price - The plan that Alfred T. has sent. - She does not in the least object - To let the "foolish yeoman" go, - But wishes--let him recollect-- - That he should move to Jericho. - -The other, a reply to a well known song, is scarcely so good, because it -does not follow its original so closely:-- - - -MAUD. - - Nay, I cannot come into the garden just now, - Tho' it vexes me much to refuse: - But I _must_ have the next set of waltzes, I vow, - With Lieutenant de Boots of the Blues. - - I am sure you'll be heartily pleas'd when you hear - That our ball has been quite a success. - As for _me_--I've been looking a monster, my dear, - In that old fashion'd guy of a dress. - - You had better at once hurry home, dear, to bed; - It is getting so dreadfully late. - You may catch the bronchitis or cold in the head - If you linger so long at our gate. - - Don't be obstinate Alfy; come, take my advice, - For I know you're in want of repose. - Take a basin of gruel (you'll find it _so_ nice), - And remember to tallow your nose. - - No, I tell you I can't and I shan't get away, - For De Boots has implor'd me to sing. - As to _you_--if you like it, of course you can stay; - You were always an obstinate thing. - - If you feel it a pleasure to talk to the flow'rs - About "babble and revel and wine," - When you might have been snoring for two or three hours, - Why, it's not the least business of mine. - -In 1879 the Editor of _The World_ offered a prize for the best parody -on Tennyson's _Lotus-Eaters_, the chosen subject being "Her Majesty's -Ministers at Greenwich." - -The prize was awarded to _C. J. Billson_, for the following parody, which -appeared in _The World_, for September 3rd, 1879:-- - - -THE WHITEBAIT-EATERS. - - "COURAGE!" they said, and pointed through the gloom; - "There is a haven in yon fishful clime." - At dinner-time they came into a room, - In which it seemèd all day dinner-time. - All in the midst the banquet rose sublime, - Whose _menu_ excellent no tongue might blame; - And round about the board, without their Prime, - Without their prime delight and chiefest fame, - The mild-eyed muddle-headed whitebait-eaters came. - - They sat them down upon the yellow chairs, - And feasted gaily as in days of yore; - And sweet it was to jest of late affairs, - Of Ward and Power and Cat; but evermore - Most weary seemed the Session almost o'er, - Weary Hibernian nights of barren seed. - Then some one said, "We shall come here no more!" - And all at once they cried, "No more, indeed! - The ballot shall release; we will no longer lead!" - - -CHORIC SONG. - - Why are we weighed upon with weariness, - With foreign crises and with home distress, - When all we do is mocked at by the Press? - All men like peace: why should we toil alone? - We always toil, and nevermore have rest; - But yield perpetual jest, - Still from one blunder to another thrown: - Nor ever pack our tricks, - And cease from politics; - Nor vote our last against the wild O'Connor; - Nor hearken what the moving spirit said, - "Let there be Peace with Honour!" - Why should we always toil, when England's trust is dead? - - Let us alone. What pleasure could we have - To war with Afghans? But the Chief said "Fight! - The times are perilous and the Jingoes rave, - Whate'er I do is right." - Yea, interests are hard to reconcile; - 'Tis hard to please yet help the little isle; - We have done neither quite. - Though we change the music ever, yet the people scorn our song; - O rest ye, brother Ministers, we shall not labour long. - - AUGUSTO MENSE POETA. - (_C. J. Billson._) - - * * * * * - -In the year 1868, when the mania for trapeze performances was at its -height, and men and women were nightly risking their lives to please the -thoughtless audiences at the music halls, _The Tomahawk_ had some powerful -cartoons (drawn by Matt Morgan) in condemnation of this senseless and -dangerous form of entertainment; it also published the following parody -of-- - - -A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN. - - I read, before I fell into a doze, - Some book about old fashions--curious tales - Of bye-gone fancies--kirtles and trunk hose-- - Of hoops, and fardingales-- - - Of mediæval milliners, whose taste - Preluded our vile fashions of to day-- - Of how they moulded the ancestral waist - With steel-bound taffeta-- - - Of powdered heroes of the later days-- - Of Hamlets strutting in their full court suits, - Slouch-hatted villains of transpontine plays, - All belt and bucket boots-- - - So shape chased shape (as swiftly as, when knocks - Of angry tradesmen bluster at the door, - Turgid with envelopes my letter box - Boils over on the floor). - - Till fancy, running riot in my brain, - Elbowed the PAST from out the PRESENT'S way; - And opened in my dream, distinct and plain, - A vision of to-day. - - Methought that I was on what's called "a spree," - Yet sadly pensive in the motley throng. - Where thrills through clouds of smoke the melody - Of idiotic song; - - Where youth with tipsy rapture drowns in beer - All common sense, votes decency a bore, - But, to the shapely limbs and sensuous leer, - Yells out a loud "Encore--" - - Then flashed before me in the gaslights' glare - A form to make the boldest hold his breath, - She, who by reckless leapings in mid air, - Plays pitch and toss with Death. - - Shame on the gaping crowds who only know - Sensation in the chance of broken necks! - Shame on the manliness that cries "Bravo" - To such a scorn of sex! - - I saw that now, since License holds such sway, - The comic muse her false position feels, - And that her sister may not gain the day, - Has taken to her heels. - - And then methought I stood in fairy bowers, - Where Dulness hides behind the mask of Fun, - Where tin-foil and Dutch metal do for flowers, - And lime-light is the sun; - - Where Art groans under an unseemly ban, - And airy nothings pass for full attire, - The Stage appeals but to the baser man, - And th' only blush, Red Fire! - - * * * * * - - Then starting I awoke from my nightmare. - A nightmare? No! the truth came clear to me. - I'd dream'd the truth--bare facts (O much too bare!) - And stern reality. - - * * * * * - - -An Extract from the original MARGARET. - - O, SWEET pale Margaret, - O, rare pale Margaret, - What lit your eyes with tearful power, - Like moonlight on a falling shower? - Who lent you, love, your mortal dower - Of pensive thought and aspect pale, - Your melancholy sweet and frail - As perfume of the cuckoo-power? - - * * * * * - - What can it matter, Margaret, - What songs below the waning stars - The lion-heart, Plantagenet, - Sang, looking thro' his prison bars? - Exquisite Margaret, who can tell - The last wild thought of Chatelet, - Just ere the fallen axe did part - The burning brain from the true heart, - Even in her sight he loved so well? - - * * * * * - - -MARY ANN. - -_(After Mr. Tennyson's "Margaret.")_ - - O, slipshod Mary Ann, - O, draggled Mary Ann, - What gives your arms such fearful power - To raise the dust in blinding shower? - Who gave you strength, your mortal dower, - To beat the mats as with a flail. - To lift with ease that heavy pail? - - What can it matter, Mary Ann, - What songs the long-legged son of Mars-- - The butcher or the cat's meat man-- - Sings to you thro' the area bars? - O, red-armed Mary, you may tell - The milkman, when he fills our can, - You wonder how he has the heart - To let the pump play such a part - In milk for her he loves so well! - - You stand not in such attitudes, - You are not quite so plain, - Nor so sulky in your moods, - As your twin-sister, Mary Jane, - Your face is cleaner, and your nose - Not touched with such a grimy hue, - With cold ærially blue, - Or crimson as the damask rose! - - ALBANY CLARKE. - - From _The Weekly Dispatch_, 25th June, 1882. - - * * * * * - -It is in the strongly marked individuality of some of Tennyson's early -poems that we find, at once, the secret of much of his popularity, and the -excuse for the vast number of parodies of his works scattered about in -nearly all our humorous literature; and three of the early poems have been -especially chosen by parodists as models for imitation; these are the "May -Queen," "Locksley Hall," and the "Charge of the Light Brigade." - -In the "Bon Gaultier Ballads" by Theodore Martin and Professor Aytoun, -will be found several parodies of Tennyson, also of Lord Macaulay, Tom -Moore, Bulwer Lytton, Mrs. Browning, and of Leigh Hunt, of whom parodies -are rare. - -Of the parodies of Tennyson, "Caroline" and "The Laureate" have already -been quoted; the others are "The Lay of the Lovelorn" and "The Dirge of -the Drinker," both in imitation of "Locksley Hall," "La Mort D'Arthur," -concerning Mechi's steel; and the "The Biter Bit." - -"The Biter Bit" is a kind of burlesque continuation of the "May Queen," -the tender pathos of the original being turned into cynical indifference, -whilst preserving a great similarity of style and versification. - - You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, - To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New Year, - Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest merriest day; - For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. - - * * * * * - - As I came up the valley whom think ye I should see, - But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree? - He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,-- - But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. - - They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be: - They say his heart is breaking, mother--what is that to me? - There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer day, - And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. - - * * * * * - - TENNYSON. - - * * * * * - - -THE BITER BIT. - - The sun is in the sky, mother, the flowers are springing fair, - And the melody of woodland birds is stirring in the air; - The river, smiling to the sky, glides onward to the sea, - And happiness is everywhere, oh mother, but with me! - - They are going to the church, mother,--I hear the marriage bell: - It booms along the upland, oh! it haunts me like a knell; - He leads her on his arm, mother, he cheers her faltering step, - And closely by his side she clings,--she does, the demirep! - - They are crossing by the stile, mother, where we so oft have stood, - The stile beside the shady thorn, at the corner of the wood; - And the boughs, that wont to murmur back the words that won my ear, - Wave their silver blossoms o'er him, as he leads his bridal fere. - - He will pass beside the stream, mother, where first my hand he pressed, - By the meadow where, with quivering lip, his passion he confessed: - And down the hedgerows where we've strayed again and yet again; - But he will not think of me, mother, his broken-hearted Jane! - - He said that I was proud, mother,--that I looked for rank and gold; - He said I did not love him,--he said my words were cold; - He said I kept him off and on, in hopes of higher game,-- - And it may be that I did, mother, but who hasn't done the same? - - I did not know my heart, mother,--I know it now too late; - I thought that I without a pang could wed some nobler mate; - But no nobler suitor sought me,--and he has taken wing. - And my heart is gone, and I am left a lone and blighted thing. - - You may lay me in my bed, mother,--my head is throbbing sore, - And mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before; - And if you'd do a kindness to your poor desponding child, - Draw me a pot of beer, mother,--and, mother, draw it mild! - - * * * * * - - -THE MAY QUEEN CORRECTED--May, 1879. - - They must wrap and cloak me warmly, cloak me warmly mother dear, - For to-morrow is the iciest day of all the sad new year. - Of all the sad new year, mother, the snowiest, blowiest day, - And I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May. - - _Punch._ - - * * * * * - - -CARTED AWAY. - -_A Farewell Ode to the Brompton Boilers._ - - You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, - There's a work I wouldn't miss for worlds, a sight my heart does cheer: - Well, I know you'll not believe, mother, a word of what I say; - But they're carting the boilers away, mother, they're carting the - boilers away. - - There's many a black eye, of course, a moral one I mean, - Has been exchanged about them, for many a fight they've seen; - But no more need of cavil now, the fact's as plain as day, - They're carting the boilers away, mother, they're carting the boilers - away. - - Good taste had slept so sound, mother, I thought t'would never wake. - But the Press, at last, has given it a most decided shake; - Yes, at length it's up and doing, oh! and isn't Brompton gay - While they re carting its boilers away, mother, they're carting its - boilers away! - - As I came up from Knightsbridge whom think ye I should see, - But, Mr. Cole, my ancient friend, best known as our C.B.! - He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday-- - And he carted the boilers away, mother, he carted the boilers away. - - You know it is his boast, mother, that in bricks all red and white, - He means to raise, on what appears an eligible ground site, - A palace for which Parliament will very gladly pay-- - When the boilers are carted away, mother, the boilers are carted away. - - The turnstile and refreshment rooms, umbrella man, and charts, - The chimney pots, paints, plaster casts, and analysed jam tarts, - Yes, all are gone! No longer art her triumphs can display, - For they've carted her boilers away, mother, they've carted her - boilers away. - - The cabs they come and go, mother, the omnibuses pass, - The public scarce believe their eyes; they think the thing a farce, - They'd got resigned to Brompton, thought its boilers meant to stay! - Yet they're carting those boilers away, mother, they're carting those - boilers away. - - South Kensington no more, mother, need fear to be despised, - The three most ugly things on earth, man ever yet devised, - No longer shall scare fashion off, and keep the world at bay; - Yes, the boilers are carted away, mother, the boilers are carted away. - - So please call me very early--Oh! I mean it--mother dear, - For I wouldn't miss the sight for worlds, it's such a bright idea; - They're nearly done--a pole or two will go and then--hooray! - The boilers are carted away, mother, are carted for ever away! - - * * * * * - -The following appeared in _The Referee_, in 1882:-- - -"Chief Justice May has scandalously prejudged the Land League case, and -in common decency he should not be allowed to try it. A fair trial is -impossible after the partisanship which in the vilest possible taste this -person has displayed. It is not the practice even now in Ireland to hang -people first and try them afterwards, and May may congratulate himself -upon having done the very worst thing in his power for the Government -brief, which, sitting in judgment, he had the effrontery to flaunt in the -face of the accused." - - -THE MAY OF THE QUEEN. - -(_The Land League Boy to his Mother_). - - You must wake and call me early; call me early, mother dear; - To-morrow will be the saddest time of Ireland's sad new year. - Of all this threat'ning year, mother, the blackest, foulest, day, - For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May. - - There's many a black, black crime, mother, they charge against your - lad; - There's Boycotting and murder, and everything that's bad; - And I'm bound to be convicted, though innocent, they say-- - For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May. - - You know I wasn't there, mother, when all the row was made; - I never made a wicked speech, or led a Land League raid; - But the judge has made up his mind to put your boy away-- - For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May. - - So wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, - For at ten o'clock, before the Court, I'm summoned to appear. - There's little chance of justice, he's a partisan they say-- - This fierce and biassed judge, mother, this Lord Chief Justice May. - - * * * * * - - -THE PLAY KING. - -(_Not included in Mr. Tennyson's New Volume_). - - You may take and bill me early, bill me early, HENRY dear; - I'm going to make the biggest hit of all the coming year; - Of all the coming year, HENRY, the safest spec to pay; - For _I'm_ going to write you a play, HENRY, I'm going to write you a - play. - - There's lots of blank, blank verse, you know, but none so neat as mine; - There's GILBERT, and there's WILLS, and--well, some others in their - line; - But none of them are Laureates, though clever in their way; - So _I'm_ going to write you a play, HENRY, I'm going to write you a - play. - - 'Twill be all right at night, HENRY, on that my name I'll stake: - I've got a good Egyptian plot, that's safe, I'm told, to take. - You're poisoned in a temple, Miss TERRY dies at bay-- - I _am_ writing you such a play, HENRY, I am writing you such a play. - - As I came towards the theatre, whom think ye I should see, - But Messrs. HARE and KENDAL, looking sorrowful at me? - They were thinking of _The Falcon_ I wrote but yesterday, - And they didn't ask me for a play, HENRY, they didn't ask me for a - play. - - I know your ghost draws well, HENRY, but don't be in a fright, - My _forte_ isn't stage-effect: when I write plays, I _write_. - You'll have five pages at a time,--as much as you can say; - But a Poet is writing your play, HENRY, a Poet is writing your play. - - Some critics tell me that my place is not behind the scenes; - That if I must descend I might stop short at magazines. - But as _Queen Mary_ from the doors the money turned away, - You must long for another big play, HENRY, you must long for another - big play. - - For fads and fancies grow, HENRY, to wither like the grass,-- - The latest, _culture;_--and for that, my name doth current pass. - So that's why, though I can't construct, and you feel all astray, - You've asked me to write you a play, HENRY, you've asked me to write - you a play. - - So take and bill me early, bill me early HENRY, dear; - I'm going to make the biggest hit of all the coming year; - Of all the coming year, HENRY:--and if it shouldn't pay:-- - Still _I_ shall have written your play, HENRY, _I_ shall have written - your play! - - From _Punch_, December 4th, 1880. - - These verses had reference to the announcement that the Poet - Laureate was writing a tragedy to be produced at the Lyceum - Theatre.--_The Cup_ was indeed a greater success than most of Mr. - Tennyson's previous dramatic productions, but it owed its popularity - to splendid acting, and the magnificent _mise-en-scene_, far more - than to its merits as a _play_, beautiful as it was as a poem.--It - was produced on the 19th February, 1881. - -In _The Referee_ for December 2, 1882, the following parodies were -published. It will be noticed that the first part imitates Cowper's _John -Gilpin_, the second part Tennyson's _May Queen_, and the third part -Campbell's _Hohenlinden_. - - "I beg very humbly to submit a poem to the - Royal Family, the Bench, the Bar, and the - British public on the opening of the new Law - Courts." - - -A MEDLEY FOR MONDAY. - - John Bulljohn was a citizen - Of credit and renown, - Of Volunteers a captain he - Of famous London town. - - John Bulljohn's mother said, "My dear, - Though living here we've been - This goodness knows how long, yet we - Have never seen the Queen. - - "To-morrow to the new Law Courts - Our sovereign does repair;" - Says John, "Good gracious! so she does-- - Dear mother, we'll be there." - - And ere he went to bed, J. B. - His aged ma did kiss; - And, feeling like a boy again, - Did softly warble this: - - You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear-- - To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all this famous year; - Of all this famous year, mother, the grandest, jolliest day, - For look on our Queen we may, mother, look on our Queen we may. - - There's many a loyal heart, they say, but none so true as mine, - There's Sandy and there's Dougal, across the Border line; - But none so true as Johnny, not e'en by Alum Bay, - So look on my Queen I may, mother, look on my Queen I may. - - All the Strand, dear mother, 'll be gay with flag and green; - And they're selling seats in windows for gold to see the Queen; - O long shall Johnny remember the Law Courts' opening day, - When look on the Queen he may, mother, look on the Queen he may. - - In London when the Queen was low, - Too sad at heart about to go, - Or in our streets her face to show - Did loyalty fade rapidly. - - But London saw another sight - When she, our Liege, recovered quite, - Came, on a morning clear and bright, - Through arches, flags, and greenery. - - To where the new Law Courts were made, - Attended by a cavalcade. - O, how the English crowd hoorayed! - And all was joy and revelry. - - Then shook the sky with thunder riven, - For never heartier cheers were given, - As through the streets the Queen was driven, - Attended by her soldiery. - - * * * * * - -The longest and most important work (by many also considered the finest) -of Alfred Tennyson is the collection of Arthurian Idyls, known as the -_Idyls of the King_. These were originally published in detached parts, in -somewhat irregular order, but in recent editions the Author has striven to -arrange them in a consecutive and more connected form. - -The first to appear in order of date was the _Morte d'Arthur_, which was -published in the 1842 volume, in the later arrangement of the poems this -has been absorbed into the last Idyl, entitled "_The Passing of Arthur_." - -In the original it commenced thus:-- - - "So all day long the noise of battle roll'd - Among the mountains by the winter sea; - Until King Arthur's table, man by man, - Had fall'n in Lyonness about their Lord, - King Arthur; then because his wound was deep, - The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, - Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights, - And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, - A broken chancel with a broken cross, - That stood on a dark strait of barren land. - On one side lay the Ocean, and on one - Lay a great water, and the moon was full. - - Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: - - "The sequel of to-day unsolders all - The goodliest fellowship of famous knights - Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep - They sleep--the men I loved. I think that we - Shall never more, at any future time, - Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, - Walking about the gardens and the halls - Of Camelot, as in the days that were. - I perish by this people which I made,-- - Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again - To rule once more--but let what will be, be, - I am so deeply smitten through the helm - That without help I cannot last till morn. - Thou, therefore, take my brand Excalibur, - Which was my pride: - - * * * * * - - take Excalibur, - And fling him far into the middle mere: - Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word." - -This mission was distasteful to Sir Bedivere, who exclaims:-- - - "And if indeed I cast the brand away, - Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, - Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, - Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. - What good should follow this, if this were done? - What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey, - Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. - Were it well to obey then, if a king demand - An act unprofitable against himself? - The King is sick, and knows not what he does. - What record, or what relic of my lord - Should be to aftertime, but empty breath - And rumours of a doubt? but were this kept, - Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, - Some one might show it at a joust of arms, - Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalibur.'" - -Thus much of the original must indeed be in one's thoughts ere the _Voyage -de Guillaume_ can be appreciated; it recounts the holiday trip of the -Prime Minister to the north in September, 1883. It will be remembered that -Mr. Gladstone was the guest of Sir Donald Currie, on board the _Pembroke -Castle_, and that Alfred Tennyson was also one of the party. - - -VOYAGE DE GUILLAUME.--A FRAGMENT. - -To the Editor of the _St. James's Gazette_. - -SIR,--I have received the following lines from North Britain. Evidently -it was not without reason that the Prime Minister was accompanied on his -cruise by the Poet Laureate.--I am, Sir, your obedient servant, - - H. H. - - * * * * * - - --So all the year the noise of talk had roared - Before the Speaker's chair at Westminster, - Until King Guillaume's council, man by man - Were tired to death, as also was their Chief, - King Guillaume. Then, observing he was bored, - The bold Sir Donald C. invited him - (Sir Donald C., the last of all his knights) - And bore him off to Barrow by the sea-- - Barrow-in-Furness, with a ruined church - That stood beside the melancholy waves. - - Then spoke King Guillaume to Sir Donald C.: - "Next session will most probably upset - The goodliest Ministry of virtuous men - Whereof this world holds record. Not for long - Shall we contrive our schemes of policy, - Meeting within the offices and halls - Of Downing Street, as in the days that were. - I perish by these voters which I make-- - Although Sir Andrew says that I may live - To rule once more; but let what will be, be. - He tells me that it is not good for me - To cut down oaks at Haw'rden, as before. - Thou, therefore, take my axe Exbrummagem, - Which was my pride--for thou rememberest how - The lustiest tree would fall beneath my strokes-- - But now delay not; take Exbrummagem, - And fling him overboard when out at sea." - - Then bold Sir Donald took Exbrummagem, - And went, and lighted his cigar, and thought: - "And if, indeed, I cast the axe away, - Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, - Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, - Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. - - The King is cross, and knows not what he says. - What record, or what relic of my lord, - Should be to aftertime, but empty breath - Condensed in Hansard's books? But were this kept, - Preserved in some Mechanics' Institute, - It might be brought out by some lecturer, - Saying, 'King Guillaume's axe, Exbrummagem, - With which he cut down trees at Hawarden!' - So might he illustrate a stupid speech - To all the people, winning reverence." - So spake he, thinking of constituents, - And kept Exbrummagem for future use. - - * * * * * - - Then came Sir Donald, gave the King his arm, - And brought him to the margin of the sea. - And at his call there hove a roomy barge, - Manned with a gallant crew from stem to stern; - And so they entered, and put off, and reached - The stately _Pembroke Castle_, and were ware - That all the decks were dense with manly forms - In naval caps and jackets, and with these - Three dames in yachting suits; and from them rose - A cheer of greeting, and they stretched their hands, - Took him on board, and laughed, and petted him. - - And so they sailed; and while the sea was calm - They talked, and sang, and feasted much, and had, - In Yankee parlance, "quite a high old time." - But when the wind blew, and the waves arose, - It sometimes happened that the grand old face - Was white and colourless, and cries of "Steward!" - Proceeded from the lips of eloquence. - And like a prostrate oak-tree lay the King - Wrapped in a shepherd's plaid and mackintosh: - Not like that Guillaume who, with collars high, - From brow to boot a meteor of debate, - Shot through the lists at Westminster, and charged - The serried ranks of bold Conservatives. - - _The St. James's Gazette_, Sept. 19, 1883. - - * * * * * - -In the same 1842 volume, appeared "Godiva," "Locksley Hall," "Break, -Break, Break," and "The Eagle," of each of which there are some excellent -parodies.--The old legend of Lady Godiva, so beautifully retold in -blank verse by the Laureate, has recently been sadly vulgarised by the -processions at Coventry, and the following poem describes, not unfairly, -the scene in which a somewhat prominent actress stooped to sustain the -part of the _Lady Godiva_. - - -THE MODERN LADY GODIVA. - - _I journeyed by the train to Coventry; - I pleased a groom with porter near the bridge, - And asked which way the pageant came; and then - I saw it pass--'twas passing strange--and this - Is what they've turned the City's legend to._ - - Not even were it to remove a tax - Could a Godiva ride abroad to-day - As she rode forth a thousand summers back: - Lord Campbell's Act, and Collette both forbid! - Still did the people clamour for a show; - So was it settled there should be forthwith - A pageant such as Coventry did love. - - Whence came it that, whilst yet the sunny moon - Of roses showed her crescent horn; the day - Fix'd for the pageant dawn'd on Coventry; - And Sanger--he of circus fame--arose - Betimes; for much was on his mind. Perchance - An elephant had shed its trunk; perchance - Some giant camel had "the hump" too much; - Or piebald horse had moulted all its spots. - Most feared he, though, lest she who had agreed - To act Godiva, having slept on it, - Should from her bargain flinch; so sought he her - With, "Well, and ride you through the town to-day?" - - And she--for eggs and toast had made her bold-- - "Ay, that will I!" Then he: "'Tis well!" and went - And whistled as he walked. - - She, left alone, - When the effect of eggs and toast had gone, - Did half repent her promise; then again - Thought of her fee, and so grew bold once more. - And as she sat, rejoicing that 'twas warm, - There came the sound of trumpet and of drum, - And driving past she saw the circus car, - And on it was a placard calling all - Good people to come forth and gaze at her. - - Then knew she that undressing time had come, - So sped her to the inner room, and there - Unhook'd the clinging bodice of her frock, - Hair-pinned on locks to show'r down to her knee, - Donned the rose "fleshings" that she was to wear; - Then throwing on a shawl she waited there - Till such time as they brought her palfrey, trapt - In purple, blazoned with armorial gold. - - So came at last the sound of pattering hoofs, - And up the stairs a voice, "The 'oss is come!" - And tripping to the door she found a steed, - Milk-white and bony, meek, and pink of eye, - And with a chair and Mr. Sanger's help - Clomb on his back, and then one bang'd a door - And shouted, "Right!" and so the charger past. - - Thus rode she forth, clothed on with scantiness, - And in the pageant duly took her place, - Along with camels and with elephants - And men-in-armour, weakest at the knee, - And Foresters with horns that wouldn't blow, - And clumsy bows, and Odd-fellows as well, - In fool regalia; and the Volunteers, - And Fire Brigade, and several brazen bands. - But chiefly 'twas on her all eyes were fix'd, - And women wondered what she could have got - For making of herself a show; and men - Opined that cotton wool she'd freely used; - And one low churl, compact of thankless earth, - Drawing a pin and rushing at her horse - Prick'd--but it was no good, the steed jogged on - As theretofore: and thanks to frequent bangs - And shouts of "Right" did reach the end at last - Of the day's progress, much to its delight. - And she was glad, and hastening to her room - She slipp'd her garments on, and issuing claim'd - Her fee, and took the earliest train to town, - And in the ballet, in the foremost row, - Danced with her fellows, winning great renown, - As one who rode through Coventry in "tights," - And built herself an evanescent name. - - -BREAK, BREAK, BREAK. - -Tennyson writes thus:-- - - "Break, break, break, - On thy cold gray stones, O sea! - And I would that my tongue could utter - The thoughts that arise in me." - - "O well for the fisherman's boy, - That he shouts with his sister at play! - O well for the sailor lad, - That he sings in his boat on the bay!" - - "And the stately ships go on - To their haven under the hill; - But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, - And the sound of a voice that is still!" - - "Break, break, break, - At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! - But the tender grace of a day that is dead - Will never come back to me." - -Of this he has had numerous imitators:-- - - -TO MY SCOUT. - -_After a smash (and Tennyson)._ - - Break, break, break! - Plate, decanter, and glass! - It's enough to worry a cherub, - And loosen the tongue of an ass. - - It's all very well to declare - That your "helbow" caught in the door, - And your "fut" must 'ave 'itched in a nail, - And you're very sorry, you're sure. - - And I'm very hard up just now, - Three troublesome duns to stop, - But I wish I'd only got half the coin - I've paid to that china-shop. - - Break, break, break! - You must order another new set. - It's good for trade; but I'd like to know - What is the commission you get? - - From _Odd Echoes from Oxford_, 1872. - -Here is another in a similar vein:-- - - Break, break, break, - My cups and my saucers, O scout! - And I'm glad that my tongue can't utter - The oaths that my soul points out. - - It's well for the china-shop man, - Who gets a fresh order each day; - And deucedly well for yourself, - Who are in the said china-man's pay. - - And my stately vases go - To your uncle's, I ween, to be cashed; - But it's O for the light of my broken lamp, - And the tick of my clock that is smashed. - - Break, break, break! - At the foot of thy stairs in glee; - But the coin I have spent in glass that is smashed - Will never come back to me. - - From the "_Shotover Papers_," Oxford, 1875. - - * * * * * - - -THE BATHER'S DIRGE. - -_By Tennyson Minor._ - - Break, break, break, - On thy cold hard stones, O Sea! - And I hope that my tongue won't utter - The curses that rise in me. - - O well for the fisherman's boy, - If he likes to be soused with the spray! - O well for the sailor lad, - As he paddles about in the bay! - - And the ships swim happily on - To their haven under the hill: - But O for a clutch at that vanish'd hand, - And a kick--for I'm catching a chill! - - Break, break, break, - At my poor bare feet, O Sea! - _But the artful scamp who has collar'd my clothes - Will never come back to me._ - - From _Funny Folks_, 1879. - - * * * * * - -The two following are taken from _Punch:_-- - - -THE MUSICAL PITCH. - - Break, break, break, - O voice!--let me urge thy plea!-- - O lower the Pitch, lest utter - Despair be the end of me! - - 'Tis well for the fiddles to squeak, - The bassoon to grunt in its play: - 'Twere well had I lungs of brass, - Or that nothing but strings gave way! - - Break, break, break, - O voice! I must urge thy plea, - For the tender skin of my larynx is torn, - And I fail in my upper G! - - * * * * * - - -TENNYSON AT BILLINGSGATE IN 1882. - -(Apropos of the _Ring_ of Wholesale Fish Dealers.) - - Take! Take! Take! - Oh grabber of swag from the sea, - And I shouldn't quite like to utter - The thoughts that occur to me! - - Oh, ill for the fisherman poor - That he toils for a trifle all day, - And ill for the much-diddled public - That has through the nose to pay. - - And the swelling monopolist drives - To his villa at Haverstock Hill, - But it's O for the number of poor men's lives - Food-stinted to plump his till! - - Take! Take! Take! - Oh grabber of swag from the sea, - _But you'll render a reckoning one of these days - To the public and Mr. P._ - - * * * * * - -In June, 1882, the Editor of _The Weekly Dispatch_ awarded a prize of Two -Guineas to M. Percivale, for a parody on _Locksley Hall_. The somewhat -uncomplimentary allusions to a young Æsthetic poet are too obvious to -require any elucidation. - - Cousins, leave me here a little, in lawn tennis you excel; - Leave me here, you only bore me, I shall come at "luncheon bell!" - - 'Tis the place (but rather older)--I was in my eighteenth year, - When I first met utter Oscar, and I thought him such a dear! - - How about the beach I wandered, listening while that youth sublime - Spouted verses by the dozen, which he said he wrote for _Time_. - - But his form was somewhat fatter than should be for one so young, - And his round eyes spoke the language of his glib and oily tongue. - - In the spring the fleshly poet writes a sweet and soothing sonnet: - In the spring a wise young woman buys a more becoming bonnet. - - And he said, "Oh, have you anything in Consols or Per Cents.? - For my property's in Ireland, and I cannot get the rents?" - - Oh, my Oscar! Impecunious! Oh, intense!--if nothing worse-- - Oh, those too-too precious poems! Oh, that too-too empty purse! - - Then I said, "I've an allowance from an old maternal aunt, - Just enough for dress; but as to victuals--no, I really can't!" - - And he turned, his face was frightful, pale with anger for poor me; - Was it fancy that he muttered something like a big, big D--? - - * * * * * - - As my husband is, his wife is, rich, the envy of the town; - How a life in shabby lodgings would have dragged my spirit down! - - How my beauty would have faded, growing daily paler, thinner! - Making puddings, washing clothing, planning for the children's dinner. - - Comes the butler, "Lunch is ready, madam!" iced champagne, I know, - Mayonnaise and lobster salad; I am hungry and--I go. - - * * * * * - -Here is another, and an earlier, imitation of the same original:-- - - -BACCHANALIAN DREAMINGS. - - Cronies leave me in the bar-room, while as yet I've cash to spend, - Leave me here, and if I'm wanted, 'mum's' the word to every friend, - - 'Tis the place, I can assure you, if from funds you wish to part; - Yet for these you'll get a mixture, wisely stirred will warm the heart. - - This old house is situated in a street well-known as High; - Here the choicest spirits gather, when the moon is in the sky. - - Oft at night I've seen the taper seemingly to multiply - And assume these quaintish fashions so deceptive to the eye. - - Till in fancy I've been lifted high above this earthly ball; - And the lights, like stars have twinkled, in the mirrors on the wall. - - In the happiness that followed, I've forgot life's cankering care, - Yet from these Elysian dreamings I've waked to misery and despair. - - In this mood I've heard, with pleasure common mortals cannot know, - Grand debates, and songs and speeches, which from sparkling genius - flow. - - Then I've built aerial castles towering up to heights sublime, - And I've questioned in my fancy, if such blissfulness were mine. - - For the nonce, a powerful statesman, I have ruled with iron sway, - Millions of my fellow-creatures, who, of course, were rougher clay. - - Changing, then, to mighty warrior, at the head of armies bold, - I've crushed all who dared oppose me, just for glory, not for gold. - - Or, again, as learned historian, I've noted down the deeds of yore, - Woven in a graceful fashion, mines of thought from ancient lore. - - Burning passions, that consumed me, caused my throbbing heart to swell, - Or, when seized with poet's fancy, I've attempted oft to tell. - - But the finest of our fancies very quickly disappear, - If from thoughtfulness we're wakened by the foolish jest or jeer. - - White-sleeved waiters can't appreciate thoughts superior to red wine, - And that Act, by one Mackenzie, foeman is to Muses Nine. - - In my rev'rie I was shaken, by a hand, and gruffly told - That the hour had just departed, when with safety wine was sold. - - From _The Modern Athenian_, 18th March, 1876. - - * * * * * - - -THE NEW ŒNONE.--AN EPIC FRAGMENT. - -(_With Apologies to the Poet Laureate._) - - O British Public, many-fadded public, - Queer British Public, harken ere I die! - It was the bright forenoon: one silvery cloud - Had with soft sprinkle laid the gathered dust - Of Mayfair. To the studio they came. - Scant-robed they came before the camera. - - And at their feet was laid a carpet fair, - Lemon, and cinnamon, and ghostly grey, - Purple, and primrose. And the artist rose - And overhead the swift spring-curtains drew - This way and that in many a subtle shift - For fine effect of light and shade, and placed - Background of statuary and drooping boughs, - With cloud and curtain, tower and portico. - - O British Public harken ere I die! - I heard great Heré. She to Paris made - Proffer of popular power, public rule, - Unquestioned, an elastic revenue - Wherewith to buoy and back Imperial plans, - Honour (with Peace) she said, and tax and toll - From many a Place of Arms and haven large, - And Scientific Frontiers, and all else - That patriotic potency may crave; - To all most welcome, seeing men in power - Then only are like gods, having attained - Rest in "another place," and quiet seats - Above the tumult, safe from Dissolution, - In shelter of their great majority. - O British Public harken ere I die! - She ceased, and Paris held the golden fruit - Out at arm's length, so much the thought of power - Flattered his spirit; but Pallas where she stood - Somewhat apart, her straight and stately limbs - Uplifted, and her aspect high, if cold. - The while above her full and earnest eye - Over her firm set mouth and haughty cheek - Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply. - - "Unselfishness, high honour, justice clear, - These three alone give worth to sovereign power. - Yet not for power (power of itself - Is a base burden) but to hold as law - The fiat high, 'Be just and do not fear.' - And because right _is_ right to follow right, - With a serene contempt of consequence." - - * * * * * - - And Paris pondered, and I cried, "Oh! Paris, - Give it to Pallas!" But he heard me not, - Or hearing, would not heed me. Woe is me! - - O British Public, many-headed Public, - Crass British Public, harken ere I die! - Audacious Aphrodite, beautiful - Fresh as the purple hyacinth's rain-washed bells, - With soft seductive fingers backward drew - From her bold brow and bosom her long hair - Auricomous, and bared her shining throat - And shoulder; on the carpet her small feet - Shone lily-like, and on her rounded form, - Between the shadows of the studio blinds, - Shifted the cunning "high lights" as she moved. - - O British Public, harken ere I die! - She, with a subtle smile in her bold eyes, - The herald of her triumph, well assured, - Half whispered in his ear, "I promise thee - _The negative of my next photograph!_" - She spoke and laughed, I shut my eyes in fear, - And when I looked, Paris had not the apple. - And I beheld great Heré's angry eyes - As she withdrew from forth the studio door, - And I was left alone within the place! - - * * * * * - - From _Punch_, December, 1879. - -There still remain to be quoted a few amusing parodies of Tennyson's -early poems, the first in order being _Mariana_, which was thus closely -burlesqued in George Cruikshank's _Comic Almanack_ for 1846. - - -THE BOW STREET GRANGE. - -_By Alfred Tennyson._ - - With blackest mud, the locked-up sots - Were splashed and covered, one and all. - And rusty nails, and callous knots, - Stuck from the bench against the wall. - The wooden bed felt hard and strange; - Lost was the key that oped the latch; - To light his pipe he had no match, - Within the Bow Street station's range. - - He only said, "It's very dreary;" - "Bail will not come," he said; - He said, "I have been very beery, - I would I were a-bed!" - - The rain fell like a sluice that even; - His Clarence boots could not be dried, - But had been soaked since half-past seven-- - To get them off in vain he tried. - After the smashing of his hat, - Just as the new police came by, - And took him into custody, - He thought, I've been a precious flat, - - He only said, "The cell is dreary;" - "Bail cometh not," he said; - He said, "I must be very beery, - I wish I were in bed!" - - Upon the middle of the night, - Waking, he heard a stunning row; - Some jolly cocks sang out till light, - And would not keep still anyhow. - He wished to bribe, but had no change - Within his pockets, all forlorn, - And so he kept awake till morn - Within that lonely Bow Street grange. - - He only said, "The cell is dreary;" - "Bail cometh not," he said; - He said, "I must be very beery, - I'd rather be in bed!" - - All night within that gloomy cell - The keys within the padlock creaked; - The tipsy 'gents' bawled out as well, - And in the dungeons yelled and shrieked. - Policemen slyly prowled about; - Their faces glimmered through the door, - But brought not, though he did implore, - One humble glass of cold without. - - He only said, "The night is dreary;" - "Bail cometh not," he said; - He said, "I have been very beery, - I would I were in bed!" - - At morn, the noise of boys aloof, - Inspectors' orders, and the chaff - Of cads upon the busses' roof, - To Poplar bound, too much by half - Did prove; but most he loathed the hour - When Mr. Jardine chose to say - Five shillings he would have to pay, - Now he was in policeman's power. - - Then said he, "This is very dreary;" - "Bail will not come," he said; - He said, "I'll never more get beery, - But go straight home to bed!" - - * * * * * - -In 1855, Messrs. G. Routledge & Co., published a small volume, by Frank -E. Smedley and Edmund Hodgson Yates, entitled _Mirth and Metre_, which -contained several excellent parodies, one entitled Boreäna, after the _The -Ballad of Oriana;_ and another, called Vauxhall, which imitated _Locksley -Hall_. Most of the parodies in the book were written by Mr. Edmund H. -Yates, but he gave the credit of Boreäna to Mr. Frank Smedley, the author -of several well-known novels, who died in May, 1864. - - -THE BALLAD OF BOREÄNA. - - My brain is wearied with thy prate, - Boreäna, - I sit and curse my hapless fate, - Boreäna, - What time the rain pours down the gutter, - Still your platitudes you utter - Boreäna, - I unholy wishes mutter, - Boreäna. - - Ere the night-light's flame was fading, - Boreäna, - While the cats were serenading, - Boreäna, - Sheep were bleating, oxen lowing, - We heard the beasts to Smithfield going, - Boreäna, - You said the butcher's bill was owing, - Boreäna. - - At Cremorne, we two alone, - Boreäna, - Ere my wisdom teeth were grown, - Boreäna, - While the dancers gaily hopped, - And the brass-band never stopped, - Boreäna, - I to thee the question popped, - Boreäna. - - She stood behind the area gate, - Boreäna, - She did it just to aggravate, - Boreäna, - She saw me wink, she heard me swear, - She recognised the scoundrel there, - Boreäna, - She _knows_ a bailiff I can't bear, - Boreäna. - - The cursed writ he pushed it through, - Boreäna, - The area rails, and gave it you, - Boreäna, - The infernal summons me unnerved, - He from his duty never swerved, - Boreäna, - On thee, my bride, the writ he served, - Boreäna. - - Oh! narrow-minded county court, - Boreäna, - 'Tis death to me, to them 'tis sport, - Boreäna, - Oh! stab in my most tender place, - My pocket, oh! the deep disgrace, - Boreäna, - I fell down flat upon my face, - Boreäna. - - They fined me at the next court day, - Boreäna, - Locked up, how can I get away, - Boreäna? - I don't perceive of hope a ray, - 'Tis a true bill, but oh! I say, - Boreäna, - How without tin am I to pay, - Boreäna? - - * * * * * - - When turns the never-pausing mill, - Boreäna, - I tread, I do not dare stand still, - Boreäna: - At home, of beer thou drink'st thy fill, - I may not come to thee and swill, - Boreäna, - I hear the rolling of the mill, - Boreäna. - - * * * * * - -TENNYSON'S _The Palace of Art_, commences thus:-- - - I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, - Wherein at ease for aye to dwell, - I said, "O soul, make merry and carouse, - Dear soul, for all is well." - - * * * * * - - And "while the world runs round and round," I said, - "Reign thou apart, a quiet king, - Still as while Saturn whirls, his steadfast shade - Sleeps on his luminous ring." - -The following skit ridiculing the furniture and decorations of an -artistically-arranged modern house, is taken from _Punch_ of the 15th -February, 1879. - - -THE PALACE OF ART. - - I BUILT myself a high-art pleasure-house - For my sick soul at peace therein to dwell. - I said, "I have the true æsthetic _nous_, - And can design it well." - - 'Twas dull red brick, with gables set galore, - And little light did through the windows pass, - For 'twas shut out by thick lead frames that bore - Quarrels of grey-green glass, - - The dadoed walls, in green were stained, no tint - Which common blue and yellow mingled make; - But a green y-wrought--of sepia without stint-- - With indigo and lake. - - Nor grainèd panel nor enamelled slate - Was there to jar on my artistic sight; - Plain ebon wood-work framed the open grate, - And over,--blue and white. - - Two lovely griffins, made of burnished brass, - I found, to guard the fireplace on each side. - With curling tails (though one was lost, alas!), - And mouths that gapèd wide. - - All round the rooms were shelves of black-dyed deal, - On which stood pots and plates of every hue; - Whilst far apart two lilièd angels kneel - In Robbia white and blue. - - One deep recess, serge-covered, like a lawn, - Held, on a brass-nailed shelf, its seat of state, - Apart from other pots and pans withdrawn, - An ancient kitchen-plate. - - "Hence whilst the world runs round and round," I said, - "I will send forth my wits to gather wool; - With task or toil I will not vex my head; - But on that plate feed full." - - So day and night upon that plate I gazed, - And strove to fix thereon what thought I had; - Until my sight grew dim, and my sense dazed, - And my digestion bad. - - My brain shrank like a nut adust and dried; - I felt that I was not at all myself, - And longed to lay my dwindled wits beside - That plate upon that shelf. - - That ancient plate of willow-pattern blue, - Which so absorbèd had my every thought, - I seemed to live thereon, and slowly grew - Confucian, clear of thought. - - One year I gazed upon that much-loved plate, - Till at the last the sight began to pall. - I said, "How know I 'tis of ancient date, - Or China-ware at all?" - - So when one year was wholly finishèd, - I put that willow-pattern plate away. - "Now rather bring me Satsuma!" I said, - "Or blue-green Cloisonnée. - - "For I am sick of this pervading hue, - Steepèd wherein this landscape, stream, and sky, - To my heart-weary question, 'Is all blue?' - 'Yea, all is blue,' reply. - - "Yet do not smash the plate I so admired, - When first my high æsthetic house I built; - I may come back to it, of Dresden tired, - And Sèvres gaily gilt." - - * * * * * - -Although taken from Cruikshank's _Comic Almanack_, for 1846, the following -parody of _The May Queen_ is so fresh and so funny that it might have been -written yesterday:-- - - -THE QUEEN OF THE FÊTE. - -_By Alfred Tennyson._ - - -I.--THE DAY BEFORE. - -[_To be read with liveliness._] - - If you're waking, call me early, mother, fine, or wet, or bleak; - To-morrow is the happiest day of all the Ascot week; - It is the Chiswick fête, mother, of flowers and people gay, - And I'll be queen, if I may, mother, I'll be queen, if I may. - - There's many a bright _barege_, they say, but none so bright as mine, - And whiter gloves, that have been cleaned, and smell of turpentine; - But none so nice as mine, I know, and so they all will say; - And I'll be queen, if I may, mother, I'll be queen, if I may. - - I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, - If you do not shout at my bedside, and give me a good shake; - For I have got those gloves to trim with blonde and ribbons gay. - And I'm to be queen, if I may, mother; I'm to be queen, if I may. - - As I came home to-day, mother, whom think you I should meet, - But Harry--looking at a cab, upset in Oxford Street; - He thought of when we met, to learn the Polka of Miss Rae-- - But I'll be queen, if I may, mother; I'll be queen, if I may. - - They say he wears moustachios, that my chosen he may be; - They say he's left off raking, mother--what is that to me? - I shall meet all the Fusiliers upon the Chiswick day; - And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen if I may. - - The night cabs come and go, mother, with panes of mended glass, - And all the things about us seem to clatter as they pass; - The roads are dry and dusty; it will be a fine, fine day, - And I'm to be queen, if I may, mother; I'm to be queen, if I may. - - The weather-glass hung in the hall has turned to "fair" from "showers." - The sea-weed crackles and feels dry, that's hanging 'midst the flowers, - Vauxhall, too, is not open, so 'twill be a fine, fine day; - And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen, if I may. - - So call me, if you're waking; call me, mother, from my rest-- - The "Middle Horticultural" is sure to be the best. - Of all the three this one will be the brightest, happiest day; - And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen, if I may. - - -II.--THE DAY AFTER. - -[_Slow, and with sad expression._] - - If you're waking, call me early; call me early, mother dear; - The soaking rain of yesterday has spoilt my dress I fear; - I've caught a shocking cold, mamma, so make a cup for me, - Of what sly folks call, blackthorn, and facetious grocers, tea. - - I started forth in floss and flowers to have a pleasant day, - When all at once down came the wet, and hurried all away; - And now there's not a flower but is washed out by the rain: - I wonder if the colours, mother, will come round again. - - I have been wild and wayward, but I am not wayward now, - I think of my allowance, and I'm sure I don't know how - I shall make both ends meet. Papa will be so very wild; - He says, already mother, I'm his most expensive child. - - Just say to Harry a kind word, and tell him not to fret; - Perhaps I was cross, but then he knows it was so very wet; - Had it been fine--I cannot tell--he might have had my arm; - But the bad weather ruined all, and spoilt my toilet's charm. - - I'll wear the dress again, mother; I do not care a pin,-- - Or, perhaps, 'twill do for Effie, but it must be taken in; - But do not let her see it yet--she's not so very green, - And will not take it until washed and ironed it has been. - - So, if you're waking, call me, when the day begins to dawn; - I dread to look at my _barege_--it must be so forlorn; - We'll put it in the rough-dried box: it may come out next year; - So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear. - -_Light Green_, a magazine published at Cambridge, in 1872, contained -another parody of the same original, it is called "The May Dream," by -Alfred Pennysong. - -The following appeared in _The Tomahawk_, of December 5th, 1868. - - -ELECTIONS' EVE! - -_A Song of the Future(?)._ - - You must wake and call me early, call me early mother dear, - Though November is the dullest month of any in the year, - Yet to-morrow I shall represent my country--oh! how droll! - For I'm the Queen of the Poll, mother! I'm the Queen of the Poll! - - There'll be many a black, black eye, mother (I hope one won't be mine), - But ten thousand voting virgins will be flocking to my sign, - Supported by my Coleridge--Mill, 'neath Becker's steadfast soul, - Shall I be the Queen of the Poll, mother! I, be the Queen of the Poll! - - The Benches soon shall welcome me, the Lobby be my haunt, - That spinster Speaker by her winks and frowns shall ne'er me daunt. - My rights are good as any, and my name is on the roll, - And I'm the Queen of the Poll, mother! I'm the Queen of the Poll. - - I have been wild and wayward, but those days are past and gone, - The Valse is fled, the Kettledrum, the Croquet on the Lawn; - Another _Lawn_, clear-starched and white, rises before my eye, - The Speaker's risen to _orders_, why the Dickens shouldn't I? - - Pardon my slang, for auld _slang_ syne, I'm still a woman true, - And women's tongues were never made to say what they might rue; - But there's one thing on my mind, mother, to ask you I'd forgot, - Shall I repair to Parliament in petticoats or----not? - - Now, good night, good night, dear mother, ah! to-morrow'll be the day - When women's rights are settled, then won't we have our say; - And then 'midst England's patriots, my name shall I enrol, - For I'm the Queen of the Poll, mother! I'm the Queen of the Poll! - - * * * * * - - -A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN. - -(From _The World_, July 23rd, 1879). - - Long time I fed my eyes on that strange scene, - Painted by Poynter, of the famous bay, - Wherein Phæacian maids surround their queen - Nausicaa in play. - - And clearer on my trancèd gaze there grew - The celebrated beauties of the town; - Leaping in front, I saw with wonder new - The sexless thing in brown. - - Meseemed that, as I gazed, my vision changed: - The loose-girt ladies on the pictured wall - I saw no more; but, fancy led, I ranged - The fair in Albert Hall. - - The hothouse blossoms of a sunless year, - And quaintest crewels, wrought in grays and greens, - Adorned the stalls--extravagantly dear, - For they were sold by queens. - - Foremost I saw, with overloaded stall - Beset from morn till eve with densest crowd, - A daughter of the Jews, divinely small, - And most divinely proud. - - With high-pitched tones in broken English she - Waved bystanders aside, and sold her wares - Only to scions of nobility, - With all her choicest airs. - - And passing on, not caring to pay dear - For portraits which in all shop-windows are, - I saw our novel Helen standing near, - Far-gleaming like a star. - - Softly she spake: 'I would that from my stall - Some favour you would buy, that I may gain - Tenfold in praise, and beat my rivals all - In making fools of men.' - - Outleapt my answer: 'Try me with thy wile: - A crown for that sweet rose!' With polished ease - She shook from haughty eyes a languid smile: - 'Not so; a guinea, please.' - - Lighter my purse, as onward, pacing slow, - I turned from right to left in idle quest, - Till on me flashed, fair as the sunset glow, - Mrs. Cornwallis West. - - Strangely my eyes their wonted functions changed; - I saw her once again, white-veiled, white-furred, - As oft by deft photographers arranged, - A photographic bird - - Prest to her lips 'mid counterfeited snow. - Full soon the fancy ceased. I heard a cry - Peal from the lips that men have worshipped so: - 'Pass quickly on, or buy!' - - A labyrinth of beauty, sweet to see! - The proud Guinness, the noted Wheeler--all - Our much-belauded London galaxy, - Protecting each a stall. - - Sweet forms, fair faces, everywhere the same; - And many a withered flower and trinket old - I purchased recklessly, till joy became - A solemn scorn of gold. - - The slow day faded in the evening sky - Ere all my petty cash was squandered free. - One joy remained. I bade my hansom fly - To visit Connie G. - - TERRÆ FILIUS. - -Those who have read _Locksley Hall_ will greatly appreciate _The Lay of -the Lovelorn_, a parody contained in the Bon Gaultier Ballads of Theodore -Martin and Professor Aytoun. - -Tennyson's original poem commences thus:-- - - Comrades leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn; - Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle horn. - - 'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old the curlews' call, - Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall; - - Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime - With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time. - - * * * * * - - Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands; - Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. - - Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might; - Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. - - Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships, - And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips. - - O my cousin, shallow hearted! O my Amy, mine no more, - O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the barren, barren shore! - - Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs have sung, - Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a shrewish tongue! - - Is it well to wish thee happy? having known me--to decline - On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart than mine! - - Yet it shall be: thou shall lower to his level day by day, - What is fine within thee growing coarse to sympathise with clay. - - As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown, - And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down. - - He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, - Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse. - - * * * * * - - Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth! - Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth! - - Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest nature's rule. - Cursed be the gold that gilds the straightened forehead of the fool. - - * * * * * - - -THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN. - - Comrades, you may pass the rosy. With permission of the chair - I shall leave you for a little, for I'd like to take the air. - - Whether 'twas the sauce at dinner, or that glass of ginger beer, - Or these strong cheroots, I know not, but I feel a little queer. - - * * * * * - - In my ears I hear the singing of a lot of favourite tunes-- - Bless my heart, how very odd! Why, surely there's a brace of moons! - - See! the stars! how bright they twinkle, winking with a frosty glare; - Like my faithless cousin Amy when she drove me to despair. - - Oh, my cousin, spider hearted! Oh, my Amy! No, confound it! - I must wear the mournful willow,--all around my hat I've bound it. - - Falser than the Bank of Fancy, frailer than a shilling glove, - Puppet to a father's anger, minion to a nabob's love! - - Is it well to wish thee happy? Having known me, could you ever? - Stoop to marry half a heart, and little more than half a liver? - - Happy! Damme! Thou shalt lower to his level day by day, - Changing from the best of china to the commonest of clay. - - As the husband is, the wife is,--he is stomach-plagued and old; - And his curry soups will make thy cheek the colour of his gold. - - When his feeble love is sated, he will hold thee surely then - Something lower than his hookah,--something less than his cayenne. - - What is this? His eyes are pinky. Was't the claret? Oh, no, no,-- - Bless your soul! it was the salmon,--salmon always makes him so. - - Take him to thy dainty chamber--soothe him with thy lightest fancies; - He will understand thee, won't he?--pay thee with a lover's glances? - - * * * * * - - Better thou wert dead before me--better, better, that I stood, - Looking on thy murdered body, like the injured Daniel Good! - - Better thou and I were lying, cold and timber-stiff and dead, - With a pan of burning charcoal underneath our nuptial bed. - - Cursed be the Bank of England's notes, that tempt the soul to sin! - Cursed be the want of acres,--doubly cursed the want of tin! - - Cursed be the marriage contract, that enslaved thy soul to greed! - Cursed be the sallow lawyer, that prepared and drew the deed! - - Cursed be his foul apprentice, who the loathsome fees did earn! - Cursed be the clerk and parson,--cursed be the whole concern! - - * * * * * - - Oh, 'tis well that I should bluster,--much I'm like to make of that; - Better comfort have I found in singing "All around my Hat." - - But that song so wildly plaintive, palls upon my British ears. - 'Twill not do to pine for ever,--I am getting up in years. - - Can't I turn the honest penny, scribbling for the weekly press, - And in writing Sunday libels drown my private wretchedness? - - Oh, to feel the wild pulsation that in manhood's dawn I knew - When my days were all before me, and my years were twenty-two! - - When I smoked my independent pipe along the Quadrant wide - With the many larks of London flaring up on every side; - - When I went the pace so wildly, caring little what might come; - Coffee-milling care and sorrow, with a nose-adapted thumb; - - Felt the exquisite enjoyment, tossing nightly off, oh heavens! - Brandy at the Cider Cellars, kidneys smoking hot at Evans'! - - Or in the Adelphi sitting, half in rapture, half in tears, - Saw the glorious melodrama conjure up the shades of years, - - Saw Jack Sheppard, noble strippling, act his wondrous feats again, - Snapping Newgate's bars of iron, like an infant's daisy chain. - - Might was right, and all the terrors, which had held the world in awe, - Were despised, and prigging prospered, spite of Laurie, spite of law. - - In such scenes as these I triumphed, ere my passion's edge was rusted, - And my cousin's cold refusal left me very much disgusted! - - Hark! my merry comrade's call me, bawling for another jorum; - They would mock me in derision, should I thus appear before 'em. - - Womankind no more shall vex me, such at least as go arrayed - In the most expensive satins and the newest silk brocade. - - I'll to Afric, lion-haunted, where the giant forest yields - Rarer robes and finer tissues than are sold at Spitalfields. - - Or to burst all chains of habit, flinging habit's self aside, - I shall walk the tangled jungle in mankind's primeval pride; - - Feeding on the luscious berries and the rich cassava root, - Lots of dates and lots of guavas, clusters of forbidden fruit. - - Never comes the trader thither, never o'er the purple main - Sounds the oath of British commerce, or the accents of Cockaigne. - - There, methinks, would be enjoyment, where no envious rule prevents; - Sink the steamboats! cuss the railways! rot, O rot the Three per Cents! - - There the passions, cramped no longer, shall have space to breathe, - my cousin! - I will wed some savage woman--nay, I'll wed at least a dozen. - - There I'll rear my young mulattoes, as no Bond Street brats are reared: - They shall dive for alligators, catch the wild goats by the beard-- - - Whistle to the cockatoos, and mock the hairy-faced baboon, - Worship mighty Mumbo Jumbo in the mountains of the moon. - - I myself, in far Timbuctoo, leopard's blood will daily quaff, - Ride a tiger hunting, mounted on a thorough-bred giraffe. - - Fiercely shall I shout the war-whoop, as some sullen stream he crosses, - Startling from their noonday slumbers, iron-bound rhinoceroses. - - Fool! again the dream, the fancy! But I know my words are mad, - For I hold the grey barbarian lower than the Christian cad. - - I the swell--the city dandy! I to seek such horrid places,-- - I to haunt with squalid negroes, blubber lips, and monkey-faces! - - I to wed with Coromantees! I who managed--very near-- - To secure the heart and fortune of the widow Shillibeer! - - Stuff and nonsense! let me never fling a single chance away, - Maids ere now, I know, have loved me, and another maiden may. - - * * * * * - - That's the sort of thing to do it. Now I'll go and taste the balmy,-- - Rest thee with thy yellow nabob, spider-hearted cousin Amy! - - BON GAULTIER BALLADS. - - -VAUXHALL. - - Cabman, stop thy jaded knacker; cabman, draw thy slackened rein; - Take this sixpence--do not grumble, swear not at Sir Richard Mayne! - - 'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old the cadger's bawl-- - Sparkling rockets, squibs and crackers, whizzing over gay Vauxhall. - - Gay Vauxhall! that in the summer all the youth of town attracts, - Glittering with its lamps and fireworks, and its flashing cataracts. - - Many a night in yonder gilded temple, ere I went to rest, - Did I look on great Von Joel, mimicking the feathered nest; - - Many a night I saw Hernandez in a tinsel garb arrayed, - With his odorif'rous ringlets tangled in a silver braid; - - Here about the paths I wandered, chaffing, laughing all the time, - Laughing at the piebald clown, or listening to the minstrel's rhyme; - - When beneath the business-counter linendraper's men reposed, - When in calm and peaceful slumber, sharp maternal eyes are closed; - - When I dipt into the pewter pot that held the foaming stout, - When I quaffed the burning punch, or wildly sipped the "cold without." - - In the spring a finer cambric's wrapped around the lordling's breast; - In the spring the gent at Redmayne's gets himself a Moses' "vest;" - - In the spring we make investment in a white or lilac glove; - In the spring my youthful fancy prompted me to fall in love. - - Then she danced through all the _ballet_, as a fairy blithe and young, - Stood a tiptoe on a flow'ret, or from clouds of pasteboard swung-- - - And I said, "Miss Julia Belmont, speak, and speak the truth to me, - Wilt thou from this fairy region with a heart congenial flee?" - - On her lovely cheek and forehead came a blushing through her paint, - And she sank upon my bosom in the semblance of a faint; - - Then she turned, her voice was broken (so, if I must tell the truth, - Was her English--all I pardoned in the generous warmth of youth), - - Saying, "Pray excuse my feelings, nothing wrong, indeed, is meant," - Saying, "Will you be my loveyer?" weeping, "you are quite the gent." - - Love took up the glass before me, filled it foaming to the brim, - Love changed every comic ballad to a sweet euphonious hymn! - - Many a morning in the railway did we run to Richmond, Kew, - And her hunger cleared my pockets oft of shillings not a few! - - Many an evening down at Greenwich did we eat the pleasant "bait," - Till I found my earnings going at a rather rapid rate. - - Oh! Miss Belmont, fickle-hearted! Oh, Miss Belmont known too late, - Oh, that horrid, horrid Richmond, oh, the cursed, cursed "bait." - - Falser far than Lola Montes, falser e'en than Alice Gray, - Scorner of a faithful press-man, sharer of a tumbler's pay!-- - - Is it well to wish thee happy? having once loved _me_--to wed - With a fool who gains his living by his heels, and not his head! - - As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown, - And pursuing his profession, he will strive to drag thee down. - - He will hold thee in the winter, when his fooleries begin, - Something better than his wig, a little dearer than his gin. - - What is this? his legs are bending! think'st thou he is weary, faint? - Go to him, it is thy duty; kiss him, how he tastes of paint! - - Am I mad, that I should cherish memories of the bygone time? - Think of loving one whose husband fools it in a pantomime! - - Never, though my mortal summers should be lengthened to the sum - Granted to the aged Parr, or more illustrious Widdicomb-- - - Comfort!--talk to me of comfort! What is comfort here below? - Lies it in iced drinks in summer, aquascutum coats in snow? - - Think not thou wilt know its meaning, wail of all his vows the proof, - Till the manager is sulky, and the rain pours through the roof. - - See, his life he acts in dreams, while thou art staring in his face, - Listen to his hollow laughter, mark his effort at grimace! - - Thou shalt hear "Hot Codlins" muttered in his vision-haunted sleep, - Thou shalt hear his feigned ecstatics, thou shalt hear his curses deep. - - Let them fall on gay Vauxhall, that scene to me of deepest woe, - But--the waiters are departing, and perhaps I'd better go!-- - - By EDMUND H. YATES, - - From _Mirth and Metre_, 1855. - - * * * * * - -Extract from _Sir Rupert the Red_, in imitation of Tennyson's _Locksley -Hall_. - - Very early in the morning would he, tumbling out of bed, - Mow his chin with wretched razor, mow and hack it till it bled; - - Then he'd curse the harmless cutler, heap upon him curses deep, - Curse him in his hour of waking, doubly curse him in his sleep-- - - Saying, "Mechi! O my Mechi! O my Mechi, mine no more, - Whither's fled that brilliant sharpness which thy razors had of yore, - - Ere thou quittedst Leadenhall Street, quittedst it with many a qualm-- - Ere thou soughtest rustic Tiptree, Tiptree and its model farm? - - Many a morning, by the mirror, did I pass thee o'er my beard, - And my chin grew smooth beneath thee, of its hairy harvest cleared; - - Many an evening have I drawn thee 'cross the throats of wretched Jews, - When they, trembling, showed their purses, stuffed for safety in - their shoes. - - But, like mine, thy day is over--thou art blunt and I'm disgraced! - Curses on thy maker's projects, curses on his 'magic paste.'" - - From _Mirth and Metre_. - - * * * * * - -The following imitation of "Break, Break, Break," is from _Snatches of -Song_, by F. B. Doveton, 1880, which volume also contains (page 127) a -long, but not very amusing, parody of _The Grandmother_, entitled _Hard -Times_. - - BREAK, break, break, - In thy pantry, costly maid! - And I bitterly rue the hour - When I took you from Mrs. Slade. - - 'Tis well for the lady fair - Whose glass is unshattered yet! - 'Tis well for the thrifty dame - Who has "an unbroken set!" - - And the clatter and crash goes on, - And Mary picks up the slain; - But oh! for that teacup of rarest Sèvres, - And that vase of porcelain! - - Break, break, break, - In thy pantry, Mary G----! - But that costly vase and that teacup rare - Will never come back to me! - -Here is another in a similar vein, from _Punch's Almanack_ for 1884:-- - - BREAK, break, break, - O slavey, my crock-e-ry! - And I would that my tongue dared utter - The wrath that's astir in me. - - O well for the labourer's wife, - Who can wash her own tea-things each day! - O well for the labourer's self, - Who has no servant's wages to pay! - - But the breakages here go on, - And I have to settle the bill; - And it's oh! for the shards of my vanished cups, - And my saucers dwindling still! - - Break! break! break! - A week from this you shall see, - But the dishes and plates you have smashed since you came, - Will never come back to me! - - * * * * * - -OUR MISCELLANY (_which ought to have come out, but didn't_), edited by -Edmund H. Yates and R. B. Brough, published by G. Routledge & Co., in -1857, contains a number of parodies, amongst them of Lord Macaulay, E. A. -Poe, Longfellow, and Charles Dickens. - -Of Tennyson there are two imitations of _Maud;_ one, nine verses in -length, of _In Memoriam_, and one entitled _A Character_, which is -a rather close parody of a poem having the same title, published in -Tennyson's 1830 volume. - -It will be remembered that at the time _Our Miscellany_ appeared, M. -Jullien's Promenade Concerts were in the full tide of their prosperity, -and that the little fopperies and vanities of the clever _Chef -d'orchestre_, and his importation of French military bands were then the -talk of the town. - - -A CHARACTER. - -(_Jullien._) - - With half a glance upon the house, - Each night he said "The gatherings - Of people underneath this roof - Teach me the paying sort of things, - And music, whence they'd stand aloof, - May in the ocean depths go souse." - - * * * * * - - He led a polka--round his skull - He waved the rhythm of the charm, - And stamped, and shook his dress-coat skirts, - With giant wavings of his arm; - And then--he went and changed his shirt! - And said the house was very full. - - And so he drove a thriving trade, - With symphonies in classic way; - With Drummers and with Zouaves' call - Himself upon himself did play, - Each season ending with a ball - Of masques, his fortune thus he made. - - * * * * * - -The _In Memoriam_ verses are scarcely so good, I will, therefore, only -quote the first and the last:-- - - -RICHMOND, 1856. - - I HOLD it truth, when I recall - Last London's season's joyous spell, - 'Tis better to have danced not well, - Than never to have danced at all. - - * * * * * - - The season's past; alone at Basle - I sit; but still, as truth I tell, - 'Tis better to have danced not well, - Than never to have danced at all. - - * * * * * - -The two imitations of _Maud_, at pages 80 and 179, are too long, and -scarcely sufficiently interesting, to quote at length. - -_The Shilling Book of Beauty_, by Cuthbert Bede (J. Blackwood, 1853), has -also a parody of _Maud_, in ten verses, it is entitled:-- - - -MAUD IN THE GARDEN. - -_By Alfred Tennison, Esq._ - - She is coming, my own, my sweet; - She is coming, my life, my fate; - I hear the beat of her fairy feet, - As she trips to the garden gate; - As she comes to the garden gate, - In her glimmer of satin and pearl, - With her sunny head in a terrible state - And her ringlets out of curl. - - * * * * * - -In 1856 a little sixpenny pamphlet was published by J. Booth, of Regent -Street, entitled _Anti-Maud_, by a Poet of the People. Tennyson had been -accused of fanning the warlike spirit then rampant in the land, and his -_Maud_ contained--in exquisite poetry--many of the stock arguments in -favour of war and glory. The "Poet of the People," in his _Anti-Maud_, -adopted the other, and less popular view. Read in the light of subsequent -events, this scarce little pamphlet seems more correct in its deductions, -than the Laureate's war cry in _Maud_. The author asserts that _Anti-Maud_ -is not merely a _jeu d'esprit_, but something of a more earnest character, -and he disclaims any intention of depreciating the Laureate's poetry. I -can quote a few only of the best of the fifty odd stanzas it contains: - - -ANTI-MAUD. - - I hate the murky pool at the back of the stable yard, - For dear though it be to the ducks and geese, it has an - unpleasant smell; - If you gaze therein at your own sweet face, the reflection is - broken and marred, - And echo, there, if you ask how she is, replies, "I feel very - unwell." 1 - - * * * * * - - Why do they prate of the blessings of peace? Bloody war is - a holy thing. - The world is wicked, and base, and vile--shall I show you a - new kind of cure? - Smeared with blood and with parents' tears call for Moloch, - horrible king! - Let him trample to dust, with a brutal foot, whatever remains - of good or of pure! 11 - - For I trust, if the low-browed rogue with a ticket-of-leave - from the gaol, - Encountered the sergeant recruiting, in rainbow-like ribbons - arrayed, - He would clutch the Queen's shilling with glee, and draining the - dregs of his ale, - Declare that the sack of Odessa would be quite of a piece with - his trade. 12 - - Wanted a quarrel to set the world straight, and cure it by - letting of blood! - We are sick to the heart of ourselves I think, and so we are - sick of each other: - Rapine, and carnage, and rage would do us all manner of good; - Let Christian rise up against Christian, and brother take arms - against brother! 13 - - Under the shadow of peace something was done that was good, - We tore out a bloody page from the book of our ancient laws; - We struck off a bitter tax from the poor man's scanty food, - And justice bent down from her seat to give ear to the poor - man's cause. 21 - - Under the shadow of peace thickly began to arise - Many a home for the working poor, many a school and church, - Little it may be, but better than roasting our enemies eyes - With Captain Disney's patent, or sacking the town of Kertch. 22 - - Who clamours for war? Is it one who is ready to fight? - Is it one who will grasp the sword, and rush on the foe with - a shout? - Far from it; 'tis one of a musing mind, who merely intends to - write; - He sits at home by his own snug hearth, and hears the storm howl - without. 29 - - Who are the friends of the poor? The men who babble and prattle - About the Balance of Power, and the pomp and grandeur of war? - Thousands of miles away from the rush and the roar of battle, - Sipping their Seltzer and Hock, and smoking a mild cigar? 37 - - Who are the friends of the poor! The writers without a name, - Who scribble at so much a column, whatever the Editors please, - Working the many-mouthed bellows which blew up the war to a flame, - And pleading for rapine and blood, whilst they lounge in their - clubs at their ease! 38 - - Methinks we have done enough for that turbaned goat, the Turk, - Who spits when a Christian meets him, and would spit, if he dared, - in his face; - Methinks we have done enough, for 'tis but a thankless work - To rivet with care on a beautiful land, the clutch of a barbarous - race. 41 - - Whether they wag a saucy tongue, or stealthily work with the pen, - There is blood on the heads of those who are fanning the flames - of war; - Blood on their heads, and blood at their doors; the blood of our - own brave men, - The blood of the wretched serfs who fight for their Faith and - their Czar. 46 - -I have quoted so much of this parody because it was one of the first to -draw attention to the Laureate's love for the pride, pomp and circumstance -of glorious war, a bellicose spirit which breathes quite as fiercely in -his later writings, as in his early songs. In all cases, where he has -attempted any Patriotic poem, the main idea seems to be a bloodthirsty -hatred of some other nation; at one time, and for some years, it was -France, next it was Russia, and latterly some of his writings have been -well calculated to revive our long forgotten animosity to Spain. In so -doing Tennyson has narrowed the circle of his admirers, for war is far -from being the popular game it once was; and the poet, who would be loved -of all, should avoid controversial topics. The Laureate's patriotic muse -has certainly sung a few noble songs, but many which have been deservedly -ridiculed; in his official capacity he has written some of the most -exquisite lines in which adulation of Royalty has ever been expressed; -for whilst we know that his laurelled predecessors credited the Stuarts -and the Georges with precisely the same virtues which he has ascribed to -members of the present Royal Family, their _official_ poems were laughed -at at the time, and are now forgotten; whilst his have been greatly -admired, especially in high quarters, and the coronet which is to reward -his poetical loyalty confers on him, and the latest of his descendants, a -perpetual title to rule over the people of Great Britain. - -All honour to the Poet, _as Poet_, as a titled Legislator the choice -rather reminds one of the saying of Beaumarchais' hero;--"It fallait un -calculateur, ce fut un danseur qui l'obtint," a saying which I may perhaps -be allowed to parody thus:--"Il fallait un Legislateur, ce fut un chanteur -qui l'obtint" - - * * * * * - - -THE LAST PEER. - - * * * * * - - "Is not a poet better than a lord?" - - _Robert Buchanan._ - - * * * * * - - Alfred the Loved, the Laureate of the Court, - The poet of the people, he who sang - Of that great Order of the Table Round, - Had been a sailing; first into the North, - Then Southward, then toward the middle sea; - And with him went the Premier, journeying - Some said for health, and some, to hatch new schemes - With Kings and statesmen. Howsoe'r they came - To Denmark's Court, where princes gathered round - To hear our Alfred read his songs aloud. - And as they voyaged homeward to the shores - Of England, where the Isle our poet loved - Lay sparkling like a gem upon the sea, - They leaned athwart the bulwarks and spake low. - - "We are but Commoners, both you and I," - Said Gladstone; "no adornment to our names, - No sounding titles; simply Mister This - And Mister That. But yet, the other day, - You read your verse to Emperors and Kings; - Princesses smiled upon you. You were great - As they, except in title. It were well - The distance lessened somewhat; Poet, you, - The prince of all the poets of our time, - Be something more, be noble, be a lord." - Then Alfred sate him down, his good grey hairs - Blown o'er his shoulders by the summer wind, - His eyes all dreamy; and he hummed a song, - Like, and yet unlike, that which Enid sang.[1] - - "Turn, Gladstone, turn thy followers into lords, - Turn those who wealth has gathered into hoards; - Turn those, and whom thou wilt, but turn not me. - - Leave, Gladstone, leave the name I always bore, - One that, mayhap, may live for evermore; - 'Tis mine alone, and mine shall always be. - - Turn into lords the owners of broad lands, - Turn him who in the path of progress stands, - And he who doeth service to the State. - - Leave the name that all the people know. - A prouder title than thou canst bestow, - Made by myself, and not by station, great." - - Yet, notwithstanding what he murmured then, - The thought dwelt in his heart; and many a day - Thereafter, as he sat at Haslemere, - Revolving and resolving, till his mind - Could scarce distinguish his resolves from doubts, - He muttered, "Ah! and I might be a lord!" - And so the thought grew on him, and brake down, - And overcame him; and the grand old name - Which the world knows, and reverences, and loves, - Seemed plain and bare and niggard, far too poor - For him who sang of Arthur and his knights, - And Camelot, and that strange, haunted mere. - And one who knew the name, and honour'd it, - Went to him, pleaded, then spake hotly thus:-- - "Doubtest thou here so long?" Art thou the one - Whose tongue grew bitter only at the sound - Of titles, and whose satire never leaped - Forth from its hiding-place but when some claim - Of place and privilege provoked thy wrath? - Wherever travels our bold English speech-- - Across the broad Atlantic, 'mid the sands - Of scorching Africa, or in the bush - Of the young, strong, far-off Antipodes-- - Thy name is greater, more familiar, more - In all men's mouths than that of any lord. - - O fair, full name, o'er which I used to dream, - Not thinking; O imperial-spreading fame, - And glory never such as poet bore, - Until they came, a Kingdom's pride, with thee; - I cannot know thee if thou art a lord; - Be Alfred Tennyson until the last; - Not Bonchurch, nor another. Is there none - Can yet persuade thee, ere it be too late?" - But he, the poet, listened, and was dumb, - And yet resolved. Ah, he would be a lord, - And sink the name round which his glory grew. - And so there came a herald with a scroll, - One who makes ancestors and coats of arms, - And gives alike to poet or to peer - A pedigree as long as Piccadilly; - And he brought with him much emblazonry, - A quartered shield, with, on the dexter side, - The grand old gardener, Adam, and his wife, - A-smiling at the claims of long descent. - - From _The Echo_, Dec. 7, 1883. - - * * * * * - -Nothing yet written about this unpopular title (which jars on the ears of -the people), approaches the severity of the following caustic parody which -appeared in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, 12th December, 1883:-- - - -BARON ALFRED VERE DE VERE. - - BARON Alfred Vere de Vere, - Of me you win no new renown; - You thought to daze the country folk - And cockneys when you came to town. - See Wordsworth, Shelley, Cowper, Burns, - Withdraw in scorn, and sit retired! - The last of some six hundred Earls - Is not a place to be desired. - - Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, - We thought you proud to bear your name, - Your pride is yet no mate for ours, - Too proud to think a title fame. - We hail the genius--not the lord: - We love the poet's truer charms. - A simple singer with his dreams - Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms. - - Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, - I see you march, I hear you say, - "Bow, bow, ye lower middle classes!" - Is all the burden of your lay. - We held you first without a peer, - And princely by your noble words words-- - The Senior Wrangler of our bards - Is now the Wooden Spoon of lords. - - Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, - You put strange memories in my head; - For just five decades now have flown - Since we all mourned young Arthur dead. - Oh, your wet eyes, your low replies! - Our tears have mingled with your tears: - To think that all such agony - Should end in making you a peer! - - Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, - Our England has had poets too: - They sang some grand old songs of yore, - But never reached such heights as you. - Will Shakespeare was a prince of bards, - Our Milton was a king to hear, - But had their manners that repose - Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere? - - Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, - Robe, now your bays are sere and spent: - The King of Snobs is at your door, - To trace your long (and deep) descent. - A man's a man for a' that, - And rich on forty pounds a year; - If rank be the true guinea-stamp - To win Parnassus--die a peer! - - Trust me, Baron Vere de Vere, - When nobles eat their noblest words, - The grand old gardener and his wife - Smile at the airs of poet-lords. - Howe'er it be, it seems to me, - 'Tis only noble to be good. - Plain souls are more than coronets, - And simple lives than Baronhood. - - I know you, Baron Vere de Vere: - You pine among your halls and bays: - The jaded light of your vain eyes - Is wearied with the flood of praise. - In glowing fame, with boundless wealth, - But sickening of a vague disease, - You are so dead to simple things, - You needs must play such pranks as these. - - Alfred, Alfred Vere de Vere, - If Time be heavy on your hands, - Are there no toilers in our streets, - Nor any poor in all these lands? - Oh! teach the weak to strive and hope, - Or teach the great to help the low, - Pray Heaven for a noble heart, - And let the foolish title go. - - * * * * * - -For the curious in such matters I give the following extract from the _St. -James's Gazette_ relating to Mr. Tennyson's lineage:--That Mr. Tennyson -comes of an ancient house is generally known; not every one perhaps -is aware of the number of princes, soldiers, and statesmen, famous in -British or European history, from whom he can claim descent. Without -pretending to give an exhaustive list of his royal and noble ancestors, -it may be interesting at the present moment to point out a few of the -more renowned among them. The Laureate's descent from John Savage, Earl -Rivers (from which stock came Johnson's friend), implies descent from -the Lady Anne, eldest sister of Edward IV., and so from sixteen English -kings--namely, the first three Edwards, Henry III., John, the first two -Henrys, William the Conqueror, Edmund Iron-side, Ethelred the Unready, -Edgar the Peaceable, Edmund I., Edward the Elder, Alfred, Ethelwulf, and -Egbert. But Edward III. was the son of Isabella, daughter of Philip the -Fair, King of France, who descended from Hugh Capet, and nine intervening -French Kings, among whom were Robert II., Philip Augustus, Louis VIII., -and St. Louis. The last is not the only saint who figures in this splendid -pedigree. The mother of Edward II. was Eleanor, daughter of Ferdinand -III., King of Castle and Leon, who was canonized by Clement X. Again, -through the marriage of Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, with Isabel, -daughter of Peter the Cruel, Mr. Tennyson descends from Sancho the Great -and Alphonso the Wise. Other crowned ancestors of the poet are the Emperor -Frederick Barbarossa, and several Kings of Scotland, notably Malcolm -III. and the "gracious Duncan," his father. In truth, the Shakespearean -gallery is crowded with portraits of his progenitors--e.g., besides those -already mentioned, John of Gaunt, Edmund Mortimer Earl of March, Richard -Earl of Cambridge, Richard Plantagenet "the Yeoman," Edmund Beaufort -Duke of Somerset, Lord Hastings (of the reigns of Edward IV. and Richard -III.), and Lord Stanley. Mr. Tennyson is not only descended from the -first Earl of Derby and that third earl with whose death, according to -Camden, "the glory of hospitality seemed to fall asleep," but from the -"stout Stanley" who fronted the right of the Scots at Flodden, and whose -name in Scott's poem was the last on the lips of the dying Marmion. -"Lord Marmion," says Scott, "is entirely a fictitious personage:" "but" -he adds "that the family of Marmion, Lords of Fontenay in Normandy, was -highly distinguished; Robert de Marmion, a follower of Duke William, -having obtained a grant of the castle and town of Tamworth. This Robert's -descendant, Avice, married John, Lord Grey of Rotherfield, one of the -original Knights of the Garter, whose great-granddaughter became (in 1401) -the wife of John, Lord D'Eyncourt, another ancestor of Mr. Tennyson's; -whose uncle, the Right Honourable Charles Tennyson, many years Liberal -member for Lambeth, assumed the name of D'Eyncourt by royal licence." - -Probably the learned compiler of this abstruse genealogy has no time to -study the poets, or he might have read of one who claimed an even more -ancient descent:-- - - NOBLES and HERALDS, by your leave, - Here lies, what once was, MATTHEW PRIOR, - The son of ADAM and of EVE, - Can STUART or NASSAU claim higher? - -The following beautiful lines, which occur in _The Princess_, have been -the subject of many parodies:-- - - Home they brought her warrior dead; - She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry: - All her maidens, watching, said, - "She must weep or she will die." - - Then they praised him soft and low, - Call'd him worthy to be loved, - Truest friend and noblest foe; - Yet she neither spoke nor moved. - - Stole a maiden from her place, - Lightly to the warrior stept, - Took the face cloth from the face; - Yet she neither moved nor wept. - - Rose a nurse of ninety years, - Set his child upon her knee-- - Like summer tempest came her tears-- - "Sweet my child, I live for thee." - - * * * * * - -An excellent parody, by Shirley Brooks, appeared in _Punch_, December 30, -1865. - - -HOME THEY BROUGHT. - -(_With abject apologies to Mr. Tennyson, Miss Dance and Miss Dolby_). - - HOME they brought her lap-dog dead, - Just run over by a fly, - JEAMES to Buttons, winking, said, - "Won't there be a row, O my!" - - Then they called the flyman low, - Said his baseness could be proved: - How she to the Beak should go-- - Yet she neither spoke nor moved. - - Said her maid (and risked her place), - "In the 'ouse it should have kept, - Flymen drives at such a pace"-- - Still the lady's anger slept. - - Rose her husband, best of dears, - Laid a bracelet on her knee. - Like playful child she boxed his ears-- - "Sweet old pet!--let's have some tea." - -And the following by Mr. Sawyer is also worthy of preservation:-- - - -THE RECOGNITION. - - Home they brought her sailor son, - Grown a man across the sea, - Tall and broad and black of beard, - And hoarse of voice as man may be. - - Hand to shake and mouth to kiss. - Both he offered ere he spoke; - But she said--"What man is this - Comes to play a sorry joke?" - - Then they praised him--call'd him "smart," - "Tightest lad that ever stept;" - But her son she did not know, - And she neither smiled nor wept. - - Rose a nurse of ninety years, - Set a pigeon-pie in sight: - She saw him eat--"'Tis he! 'tis he!" - She knew him--by his appetite! - - * * * * * - -In January, 1882, Mr. Cook speaking at a public meeting in reference to -the state of affairs in Ireland at that time, observed that he could not -better represent Mr. Gladstone's position in this land question than by -quoting a parody on that celebrated poem of Tennyson's, "Home they brought -her warrior dead":-- - - Home they brought Montmorres dead, - _He_ nor sighed nor uttered cry. - All the English angered said - Strike! or know the reason why. - - Jones and Boycott labouring well - Lost the fruits of earlier years; - Surely now 'tis time to quell, - Yet no remedy appears, - - Farmers who had paid some rent - On the cold ground weltering lay; - Still on landlord plunder bent - Small attention did he pay. - - Travelling Forster entering said: - But our "Bill" will strangled be; - Then the Premier raised his head-- - Oh sweet, my child, I strike for thee. - - * * * * * - - -IN IMMEMORIAM. - -(_Ascribed to the author of "In Memoriam" but not believed to be his_). - - We seek to know, and knowing seek; - We seek, we know, and every sense - Is trembling with the great intense, - And vibrating to what we speak. - - We ask too much, we seek too oft; - We know enough, and should no more; - And yet we skim through Fancy's lore, - And look to earth and not aloft. - - * * * * * - - O sea! whose ancient ripples lie - On red-ribbed sands where seaweeds shone; - O moon! whose golden sickle's gone, - O voices all! like you I die! - (_Dies._) - - From _Medley_, by Cuthbert Bede, 1856. - -The 1842 volume of Tennyson's works contained a short poem in four verses -entitled - - -A FAREWELL. - - Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, - Thy tribute wave deliver: - No more by thee my steps shall be, - For ever and for ever. - - * * * - - A thousand suns will stream on thee, - A thousand moons will quiver; - But not by thee my steps shall be, - For ever and for ever. - - * * * * * - -The following parody is taken from _Odd Echoes from Oxford_, 1872. - - -A FAREWELL. - -_After sleeping in the Argyle Hotel, Dunoon._ - - Bite on, thou pertinacious flea, - And draw the tiny river; - No more for thee my blood shall be, - For ever and for ever. - - Bite, fiercely bite, and take with glee - From each unwilling giver; - No food for thee my blood shall be, - For ever and for ever. - - And here will toss some wretched he, - And here he'll tear and shiver; - Bed-making she will hunt the flea - For ever and for ever. - - A thousand limbs may smart for thee, - A thousand skins may quiver; - But not for thee my blood shall be, - For ever and for ever. - -A still closer imitation of the versification of the original is contained -in _The Shotover Papers_, published in Oxford in 1874. - - Rise up, cold reverend, to a see, - Confound the unbeliever! - Yet ne'er 'neath thee my seat will be - For ever and for ever. - - Preach, softly preach, in lawn and be - A comely model liver, - But ne'er 'neath thee my seat shall be - For ever and for ever. - - And here shall sleep thine alderman, - And here thy pauper shiver, - And here by thee shall buzz the "she," - For ever and for ever. - - A thousand men shall sneer at thee, - A thousand women quiver, - But ne'er 'neath thee my seat shall be - For ever and for ever. - - * * * * * - - -ODE TO ALDGATE PUMP. - - Flow down, false rivulet, to the sea - Thy sewage wave deliver; - No longer will I quaff from thee - For ever and for ever. - - The dust of citizens of yore, - Who dwelt beside the river, - And leakages of sewers pour - Into thy stream for ever. - - A thousand hands may pump from thee, - A thousand pails deliver - Their sparkling draughts, but not to me - For ever and for ever. - - Oh, let them lock thy nozzle up, - And drain thee to the river; - Nor any mortal fill his cup - Again from thee for ever. - - From _Funny Folks_. - - * * * * * - - -THE UNDERGRAD. - - His fists across his breast he laid, - He was more mad than words can say; - Bareheaded rushed the undergrad - To mingle in November's fray. - In cap and gown a don stepped down - To meet and greet him on his way; - "It is no wonder," said his friends, - "He has been drinking half the day." - - All black and blue, like cloud and skies, - Next day that proctor's face was seen; - Bruised were his eyebrows, bruised his eyes, - Bruised was his nose and pummelled mien. - So dire a case, such black disgrace, - Since Oxford was had never been; - That undergrad took change of air - At the suggestion of the dean. - -This is taken from _Odd Echoes from Oxford_, 1872, and is a parody on _The -Beggar Maid and King Cophetua_, which was also in the 1842 collection. - -In a little volume by C. S. Calverley entitled "Fly Leaves," (George -Bell & Sons, 1878) there are several clever parodies, and one, entitled -_Wanderers_, is an especially happy imitation of the style of Tennyson's -Brook:-- - - -THE TINKER. - - I turn'd me to the tinker, who - Was loafing down a by-way: - I asked him where he lived--a stare - Was all I got in answer, - As on he trudged: I rightly judged - The stare said, "Where I can, sir."? - - I asked him if he'd take a whiff - Of 'bacca; he acceded; - He grew communicative too, - (A pipe was all he needed,) - Till of the tinker's life, I think, - I knew as much as he did. - - "I loiter down by thorp and town; - For any job I'm willing; - Take here and there a dusty brown, - And here and there a shilling. - - "I deal in every ware in turn, - I've rings for buddin' Sally - That sparkle like those eyes of her'n; - I've liquor for the valet. - - "I steal from th' parson's strawberry plots, - I hide by th' squire's covers; - I teach the sweet young housemaids what's - The art of trapping lovers. - - "The things I've done 'neath moon and stars - Have got me into messes: - I've seen the sky through prison bars, - I've torn up prison dresses. - - "I've sat, I've sighed, I've gloom'd, I've glanced - With envy at the swallows - That through the windows slid, and danced - (Quite happy) round the gallows; - - "But out again I come, and show - My face nor care a stiver, - For trades are brisk and trades are slow, - But mine goes on for ever." - - * * * * * - -Another parody of the same original, and almost as clever, is contained in -a little anonymous Pamphlet, entitled _Idyls of the Rink_, published by -Judd & Co., in 1876, it is called - - -THE RINKER - -_By Alfred Tennyson._ - - I start from home in happy mood, - Arrayed in dress so pretty, - And sparkle out among the men, - Who come up from the City. - - But first I linger by the brink, - And calmly reconnoitre, - For when I'm fairly on the rink, - I never care to loiter. - - Then "follow me," I loudly call, - At skating I'm so clever, - For men may come, and men may fall, - But I rink on for ever. - - I chatter with my little band - Of friends so gay and hearty, - And sometimes we go hand in hand, - And sometimes in a party. - - I slip, I slide, I glance, I glide, - There is no one can teach me, - I give them all a berth full wide, - And not a soul can reach me. - - I chatter, chatter, to them all, - At skating I'm so clever, - For men may come, and men may fall, - But I rink on for ever. - - I wind about, and in and out, - With here a figure tracing. - And here and there I dance about, - And here I go a-racing. - - I'm always making graceful curves, - As everyone alleges. - And while I've nerve, I'll never swerve, - From in and outside edges. - - And after me I draw them all, - At skating I'm so clever, - For men may come, and men may fall, - But I rink on for ever. - - * * * * * - -I now come to a clever and most amusing little work entitled _Puck on -Pegasus_, by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell, which was published about sixteen -years ago by the late Mr. John Camden Hotten. In the original edition this -work was a small quarto, with numerous illustrations and a characteristic -frontispiece designed and etched by dear old George Cruikshank. It -has since run through numerous editions, and is now included in the -series known as _The Mayfair Library_, published by Chatto and Windus. -It contains the following parodies:--"Song of In-the-Water," after -_Longfellow;_ "The Du Chaillu Controversy," after _The Bon Gaultier -Ballads;_ "The Fight for the Championship," after _Lord Macaulay;_ "How -the Daughters come down at Dunoon," after _Robert Southey;_ "Wus, ever -wus," after _Tom Moore;_ "Exexolor!" after _Longfellow's_ Excelsior; -"Charge of the Light (Irish) Brigade," after _Tennyson_. - -The incidents referred to in the last-mentioned parody have now somewhat -faded from the public memory. It is sufficient to say that the warlike -behaviour of the one brigade was quite as great a contrast to the action -of the other, as the parody here given presents to the original poem:-- - - -CHARGE OF THE LIGHT (IRISH) BRIGADE. - -(_Not by A----d T----n_). - - Southward Ho--Here we go! - O'er the wave onward - Out from the Harbour of Cork - Sailed the Six Hundred! - Sailed like Crusaders thence, - Burning for Peter's pence,-- - Burning for fight and fame-- - Burning to show their zeal-- - Into the gates of Rome, - Into the jaws of Hell, - (It's all the same)! - Marched the Six Hundred! - - "Barracks, and tables laid! - Food for the Pope's Brigade;" - But ev'ry Celt afraid, - Gazed on the grub dismay'd-- - Twigged he had blundered;-- - "Who can eat rancid grease? - Call _this_ a room a-piece?"[2] - "Silence! unseemly din, - Prick them with bayonets in." - Blessèd Six Hundred! - - Waves every battle blade-- - "Forward the Pope's brigade!" - Was there a man obeyed? - No--where they stood they stayed, - Though Lamoricière pray'd, - Threatened, and thundered-- - "Charge!" Down their sabres then - Clashed, as they turn'd--and ran-- - Sab'ring the empty air, - Each of one taking care, - Here, there, and ev'rywhere - Scattered and sundered. - - Sick of the powder smell, - Down on their knees they fell, - Howling for hearth and home-- - Cursing the Pope of Rome-- - Whilst afar shot and shell - Volleyed and thundered; - Captured, alive and well, - Ev'ry Hibernian swell, - Came back the tale to tell; - Back from the states of Rome-- - Back from the gates of Hell-- - Safe and sound every man-- - Jack of Six Hundred! - When shall their story fade? - Oh the mistake they made! - Nobody wondered, - Pity the fools they made-- - Pity the Pope's Brigade-- - NOBBLED Six Hundred! - -Like the accomplished authors of _The Bon Gaultier Ballads_, Mr. -Cholmondeley-Pennell is almost too much a Poet to be thoroughly successful -as a mere Parodist. His muse often carries him away, and what begins in -mere _badinage_, and playful imitation, runs into graceful sentiment and -poetical imagery, until the author pulls her up short, and compels her to -turn aside again into the well-worn "footprints in the sand of time." - -It would be difficult to find a better example both of the merits, -and, so far as _mere parody_ is concerned, of the defects of Mr. -Cholmondeley-Pennell's style than in the following lines, which he has -kindly permitted me to insert in this collection.--They parody the _Morte -D'Arthur:_-- - - -LINES SENT TO THE LATE CHARLES BUXTON, M.P., WITH MY FAVOURITE HUNTER, -WHITE-MIST. - - The sequel of to-day dissevers all - This fellowship of straight riders, and hard men - To hounds--the flyers of the hunt. - I think - That we shall never more in days to come - Hold cheery talk of hounds and horses (each - Praising his own the most) shall steal away - Through brake and coppice-wood, or side by side - Breast the sharp bullfinch and deep-holding dyke, - Sweep through the uplands, skim the vale below, - And leave the land behind us like a dream. - - I tear me from this passion that I loved-- - Though Paget sware that I should ride again-- - But yet I think I shall not; I have done: - My hunt is hunted: I have skimmed the cream, - The blossom of the seasons, and no more - For me shall gallant Scott have cause for wrath, - Or injured farmer mourn his wasted crops. - - Now, therefore, take my horse, which was my pride - (For still thou know'st he bore me like a man--), - And wheel him not, nor plunge him in the mere, - But set him straight and give his head the rein, - And he shall bear thee lightly to the front, - Swifter than wind, and stout as truest steel, - And none shall rob thee of thy pride of place. - - * * * * * - - -IN THE SCHOOLS AT OXFORD. - -to an examiner. - -(_Suggested by the Laureate's conundrum "In The Garden at Swaintson."_) - - Butcher boys shouted without, - Within was writing for thee, - Shadows of three live men - Talked as they walked into me. - Shadows of three live men, and you were one of the three. - - Butcher boys sang in the streets, - The bobby was far away, - Butcher boys shouted and sang - In their usual maddening way.-- - Still in the Schools quite courteous you were torturing men all - the day. - - Two dead men have I known, - Examiners settled by me. - Two dead men have I scored, - Now I will settle with thee. - Three dead men must I score, and thou art the last of the three. - - REGNOLD GREENLEAF. - - (_The Shotovor Papers_, 1874). - -Since the year 1845 Alfred Tennyson has been in the receipt of a civil -list pension of £200 a year, so that, in round figures, he has received -about £8,000 of the public money, besides drawing the annual salary of -£100 since his appointment as Poet Laureate, November, 1850. The sale -of his works has also, of course, been greatly increased, owing to his -official title, and the present fortunate holder of the laurels enjoys a -fortune much in excess of that of any of his predecessors in office. From -the days of Ben Jonson downwards Poets Laureate have been paid to sing the -praises of the Royal Family; of these Laureates, Jonson, Dryden, Southey, -and Wordsworth were true poets, but the others in the line of succession -were mere rhymesters, whose very names are now all but forgotten. Eusden, -Cibber, and Pye were unremitting in their production of New Year, and -Birth-day Odes, Southey did little in this way, and Wordsworth would not -stoop to compose any official poems whatever, although he wore the laurels -for seven years. - -It was reserved for Alfred Tennyson to revive the custom, and he has -composed numerous adulatory poems on events in the domestic history of our -Royal Family. - -The smallest praise that can be bestowed on Tennyson's official poems is -that they are immeasurably superior to any produced by former Laureates; -and although the events recorded have but a passing interest, the poems -will probably long retain their popularity. The death of the princess -Charlotte in 1817 was, no doubt, considered at the time as a greater -public loss than was the death of Prince Albert in 1861; yet who now -reads Southey's poem in her praise? Whereas the beauty of Tennyson's -_Dedication_ of the Idyls of the King will cause it to be remembered long -after people have forgotten the Prince to whom it was inscribed. - -The Dedication commences thus:-- - - "THESE to his Memory--since he held them dear, - Perhaps as finding there unconsciously - Some image of himself--I dedicate, - I dedicate,--I consecrate with tears-- - These Idyls. - - "And, indeed, He seems to me - Scarce other than my own ideal knight." - - NOTE.--Poets Laureate, with the dates of their - appointment:--Benjamin Jonson, 1615-16; Sir William Davenant, 1638; - John Dryden, 1670; Thomas Shadwell, 1688; Nahum Tate, 1692; Nicholas - Rowe, 1715; Lawrence Eusden, 1718; Colley Cibber, 1730; William - Whitehead, 1757; Thomas Warton, 1785; Henry James Pye, 1790; Robert - Southey, 1813; William Wordsworth, 1843; and Alfred Tennyson, 19th - November, 1850. - -Continuing in this strain for another fifty lines, the Poet credits the -Prince with every conceivable virtue, after which, as a contrast, it is -almost a relief to turn to some parody, less ideal, and less heroic. - - THESE to his memory--since he held them dear, - Perchance as finding there unwittingly - Some picture of himself--I dedicate, - I dedicate, I consecrate with smiles-- - These Idle Lays-- - Indeed, He seemed to me - Scarce other than my own ideal liege, - Who did not muchly care to trouble take; - But his concern was, comfortable ease - To dress in well-cut tweeds, in doeskin suits, - In pants of patterns marvellous to see; - To smoke good brands; to quaff rare vintages; - To feed himself with dainty meats withal; - To sport with Amaryllis in the shade; - To toy with what Neræa calls _her_ hair; - And, in a general way, to happy be, - If possible, and always debonair; - Who spoke few wise things; did some foolish ones; - Who was good-hearted, and by no means stiff; - Who loved himself as well as any man; - He who throughout his realms to their last isle - Was known full well, whose portraiture was found - In ev'ry album. - We have lost him; he is gone; - We know him now; ay, ay, perhaps too well, - For now we see him as he used to be, - How shallow, larky, genial-hearted, gay; - With how much of self-satisfaction blessed-- - Not swaying to this faction nor to that, - Because, perhaps, he neither understood; - Not making his high place a Prussian perch - Of War's ambition, but the vantage ground - Of comfort; and through a long tract of years, - Wearing a bouquet in his button-hole; - Once playing a thousand nameless little games, - Till communistic cobblers gleeful danced, - And democratic delvers hissed, "Ha! ha!" - Who dared foreshadow,, then, for his own son - A looser life, one less distraught than his? - Or how could Dilkland, dreaming of _his_ sons, - Have hoped less for them than some heritance - Of such a life, a heart, a mind as thine, - Thou noble Father of her Kings to be-- - If fate so wills it, O most potent K----; - The patron once of Polo and of Poole, - Of actors and leviathan "comiques;" - Once dear to Science as to Art; once dear - To Sanscrit erudition as to either; - Dear to thy country in a double sense; - Dear to purveyors; ay, a liege, indeed, - Beyond all titles, and a household name, - Hereafter, through all times, Guelpho the Gay! - - _The Coming K----_ - -_The Coming K----_ was published about ten years ago as one of Beeton's -Christmas Annuals, and created a sensation at the time, as it dealt with -some social scandals then fresh in the public mind. After enjoying a rapid -sale for a short period, it was suddenly withdrawn in a mysterious manner -from circulation, and is now rather scarce. Following the Dedication, -just quoted, are parodies of the Idyls of the King, with the following -titles:--The Coming of Guelpho; Heraint and Shenid; Vilien; Loosealot -and Delaine; The Glass of Ale; Silleas and Gettarre; The Last Carnival; -and Goanveer. In each of these parts there are parodies well worthy of -preservation, but space will only permit of the insertion of the following -extracts, one from _Vilien_, the other from _Goanveer_. - -In _Vilien_, the then prevalent crazes for Spiritualism, Table Rapping, -and Cabinet séances are amusingly satirised; Vilien seeks out Herlin the -Wizard, and thus begs him to reveal the one great secret of his art:-- - - "I ever feared you were not wholly mine, - And see--you ask me what it is I want? - Yet people call you wizard--why is this? - What is it makes you seem so proud and cold? - Yet if you'd really know what boon I ask, - Then tell me, dearest Herlin, ere I go, - The charm with which you make your table rap. - - * * * - - O yield my boon, - And grant my re-iterated wish, - Then will I love you, ay, and you shall kiss - My grateful lips--you shall upon my word." - And Herlin took his hand from hers and said, - O, Vilien, ask not this, but aught beside. - But as thou lov'st me, Vilien, do not ask - The way in which I make the table rap. - O ask it not! - And Vilien, like the tenderest hearted maid - That ever jilted swain or lover mocked, - Made answer, either eyelid wet with tears: - "Nay, Herlin, if you love me, say not so; - You do but tease to talk to me like this. - Methinks you hardly know the tender rhyme - Of 'Trust me for all in all, or not at all.' - I heard a 'comique' sing the verses once, - And they shall answer for me. List the song: - - 'In love, 'tis as in trade; if trade were ours, - Credit and cash could ne'er be equal powers-- - Give trust to all or don't give trust at all. - - It is the little rift within the lute - That cracks the sound and makes the music mute, - And leaves the banjo nothing worth at all. - - It is the little moth within the suit, - It is the merry maggot in the fruit, - That worming surely, slowly ruins all. - - It is the little leaven makes the lump, - It is the little piston works the pump; - And A-L-L spells ALL, and--all is all.' - - O, Herlin, do you understand my rhyme? - And Herlin coughed, and owned that he did not. - - * * * * * - - And Villien, naught abashed, replied again: - "Lo, now, how silly you must be, you know, - My simple stanzas not to understand; - 'Tis thus our truest poets write their rhymes; - They try their sense and meaning to conceal; - But you should solve their riddles, though 'tis said - They don't the answers know themselves, sometimes. - However, be that as it may, I think - I'll give you one verse more. So Villien sang: - "That sign, once mine, is thine, ay, closelier mine, - For what is thine is mine, and mine is thine, - And this, I much opine, is line on line; - To learn the obvious moral once for all." - But Herlin looked aghast, as well he might, - Nor knew the teaching of her little song." - -The last legend, that of _Goanveer_, tells how-- - - "Fleet Goanveer had lost the race, and stood - There in the stable near to Epsom Downs." - -This mare the Coming K---- had backed heavily, but his trusted friend, Sir -Loosealot, obtaining access to her stable the night before the race, had -drugged her, so that on the day she hobbled sickly to the winning-post. -By this evil trick Sir Loosealot wins much, whilst the Coming K---- is a -heavy loser. Guelpho visits the mare in her stable, and thus addresses -her, in a parody of the celebrated passage in Guinevere, where Arthur -parts from his faithless Queen:-- - - "And all went well till on the turf I went, - Believing thou wouldst fortune bring to me, - And place me higher yet in name and fame. - Then came the shameful act of Loosealot; - Then came thy breaking down in that great race; - And now my name's worth nil at Tattersall's, - And all my knights can curl their lips at me; - Can say 'I've come a cropper,' and the like, - And all through thee and he--and him, I mean-- - But slips will happen at a time like this. - Canst wonder I am sad when thus I see - I am contemned amongst my chiefest knights? - When I am hinted at in public prints - As being a man who sold the people's race? - But think not, Goanveer, my matchless mare, - Thy lord has wholly lost his love for thee. - Yet must I leave thee to thy shame, for how - Couldst thou be entered for a race again? - The public would not hear of it; nay, more, - Would hoot and hound thee from the racing-course, - Being one they had loved, yet one on whom they had lost." - He paused, and in the pause the mare rejoiced. - For he relaxed the caresses of his arms; - And, thinking he had done, the mare did neigh, - As with delight; but Guelpho spake again:-- - "Yet, think not that I come to urge thy faults; - I did not come to curse thee, Goanveer: - The wrath which first I felt when thou brok'st down - Is past--it never will again return. - I came to take my last fond leave of thee, - For I shall ne'er run mare or horse again. - O silky mane, with which I used to play - At Hampton! O most perfect equine form, - And points the like of which no mare yet had - Till thou was't bred! O fetlocks, neater far - Than many a woman's ankles! O grand hocks - That faltered feebly on that fatal day!" - - * * * * * - - Yet, Goanveer, I bid thee now good-bye, - And leave thee, feeling yet a love for thee, - As one who first my racing instinct stirred, - As one who taught me to abjure the turf. - Hereafter we may meet--I cannot tell; - Thy future may be happy--so I wish. - But this I pray, on no account henceforth - Make mixture of your water--drink it neat; - I charge thee this. And now I must go hence; - Through the thick night I hear the whistle blow - That tells me that my 'special' waits to start. - Thou wilt stay here awhile, so be at rest; - But hither shall I never come again, - Or ever pat thy neck, or see thee more. - Good-bye!" - -On the occasion of the arrival of the Princess Alexandra from Denmark in -March, 1863, Tennyson wrote:-- - - -A WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA. - - SEA-KINGS' daughter from over the sea, - Alexandra! - Saxon and Norman and Dane are we, - But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee, - Alexandra! - Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet! - Welcome her, thundering cheer of the street! - Welcome her, all things youthful and sweet! - Scatter the blossom under her feet! - - * * * * * - - For Saxon or Dane or Norman we, - Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be, - We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee, - Alexandra! - -In 1869, Ismail Pasha, the Viceroy of Egypt, visited this country, and the -following kindly welcome appeared in _The Tomahawk_ of July 10, 1869:-- - - -BRITANNIA'S WELCOME TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS STRANGER. - - PLAGUE of Egypt, from over the sea, - Ismail Pasha! - Viceroy, Khidevé, or whatever you be, - Jacksons, O'Tooles, and McStunners are we, - But all John Bulls in our welcome of thee, - Ismail Pasha! - - Welcome him, blunder of escort and suite, - Mounted inspector, and mob in the street! - Call up the first cab his Highness to meet! - Throw his hat-box and Bradshaw and rug on the seat! - Welcome him! feast him with fourpenny treat, - One glass of old ale and a sandwich to eat! - Scatter, O Royalty, gold for his keep! - Dream, all ye tradesmen of harvests to reap! - The Palace is empty, our pockets are deep! - Fling wide, O menial, the grand back door! - Take him, O attic, and rock him to sleep! - Strew a _viceregal_ shakedown on the floor! - Welcome him, welcome him, all that is cheap! - Sing, Prima Donna, and fashion stare! - Scrape up your regiments, weak and few, - Hurry, ye Commons, and all be there, - To swell the pomp of the grand review! - Chuckle, Britannia! a Sultan? pooh! - A nobody! don't we know who's who, - Ismail Pasha! - - Seeking quarters for change of air, - Come to us, love us (but pay your fare)-- - Guests such as you we are happy to see; - Come to us, love us, and have we not shown, - In breakfast, and luncheon, and dinner, and tea, - Kindness to strangers as great as your own? - For Jacksons, O'Tooles, and McStunners we, - Viceroy, Khidevé, or whatever you be, - Yet thorough John Bulls in our welcome of thee, - Ismail Pasha! - -Shortly after the death of the late John Brown, when it was announced that -the Queen had had a statue of him erected in the grounds at Balmoral, -it was also rumoured that Tennyson was writing a poem in his honour. A -jocular author suggested that it might run as follows:-- - - Trash about bells and the merry March hare - Wrote I once at the royal summons. - More of us Danes than Antic Rum-uns! - No; let me see! I'll our welcome of thee, - Alexandra! - - Have I gone mad, or taken a drappie? - Norman and Saxon and Dane a wee, - Just a wee drappie intil our ee, - My Indo-Teuton-Celtic chappie! - Norman and Saxon a wee are we, - But more of us rum-uns or Danes you see - Some of us Saxons, and all with a B - In our bonnets, or something that's stronger than tea; - And it's all as easy as A, B, C, - To the poet who sang like a swan up a tree, - Alexandra! - - "The promise of May" was a little bit late, - And a fox jumped over a parson's gate, - And he had my cochins, too, if you please, - With a cat to the cream, which was not the cheese; - And a guinea a line is about the rate - You must pay for what flows from the poet's pate - When the blue fire wakes up the whole of the town; - And I'm sure I don't know what to say about Brown. - But whatever I say and whatever I sing - Will be worth to an obolus what it will bring! - - _The Referee_, September, 1883. - -It is generally admitted that Tennyson's more recent official poetry -has added little to his fame, whilst it has often been mercilessly -ridiculed, and, of late, his adulatory poems, and protestations of -loyalty, have frequently been ascribed to interested motives. As soon as -it was definitely announced that he was to be _ennobled_, a genealogy was -compiled tracing his descent from the kings who ruled in Britain long -before the Conquest. This grand claim (which was quoted at page 28) has -since been rather spoilt by the plain statement that Alfred Tennyson's -grandfather was a country attorney, practising in a small, quiet way in -Market Rasen, North Lincolnshire, who, having made money in his business, -retired, and bought some land in the neighbourhood. - -But for the title just conferred upon him, Tennyson's birth and lineage -would have been matters of perfect indifference to his readers. As for -raising Tennyson to the peerage, no writer seems seriously to have -defended an act which most people look upon as a mistake. Not one parody -in its favour has been written, but many against it. - - You must wake and call me early, call me early, Vicky clear, - For to-morrow will be the silliest day we've seen for many a year; - For I am a rhyming prig, Vicky, that shoddy and sham reveres, - So I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - There's many a crazy lyre, they say, but none so effete as mine; - It cannot ring out an ode to Brown, that gallant gilly of thine, - For there's none so inane as poor old Alf in his sad, declining years; - And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - I sleep so sound all night, Vicky, that I shall never wake; - So come in the early morn, Vicky, and give me a slap and a shake; - For I must gather my scissors and paste and scraps of the bygone years, - And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - As I came up the Row, Vicky, whom think you I should see? - Lord Queensberry against a lamp, and singing Tweedle-de-dee: - He thought of that vile play, Vicky, I wrote in bygone years; - But I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - He thought I was a fool, Vicky, for I looked dazed and white; - He took me for a fool, Vicky--by jingo, he was right. - They call me Atheist-hater; but I care not for their jeers, - For I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - They say men write, and all for love; but this can never be: - They say that great men write and starve; but what is that to me? - For gold I sell my laughter, for gold I sell my tears, - And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - I wrote my "In Memoriam" when I was young and green; - I wrote my "Promise of the May" when I was pumped out clean; - And I've been the Court's hired lackey for many cringing years; - And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - The spider in my mouldy brain has woven its web for hours - On the dull flats of Lincoln fens and withered hot-house flowers; - I feel the shortening of my wits and the lengthening of my ears, - So I'm to be one of the peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - The night winds come and go, Vicky, upon the meadow grass; - There are guineas for the rhymster and thistles for the ass: - I have been your rhyming flunkey for over thirty years; - Now I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - There will be poets after me, not fresh and green and still, - Who care less for a Prince's nod than for the People's will, - Not rhyming royal nuptials and singing royal biers; - But I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - You must wake and call me early, call me early, Vicky dear; - To-morrow will be the silliest day we've seen for many a year; - For I'm a lackey and prig, Vicky, that sham and shoddy reveres, - And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers. - - From _The Secular Review_, December 29, 1883. - - * * * * * - -Of Tennyson's Patriotic Poems _The Charge of the Light Brigade_ has always -been the most popular, and has, consequently, been the most frequently -parodied. An excellent parody, taken from _Puck on Pegasus_, was given on -page 31; the following are the most interesting examples which remain to -be quoted:-- - - -THE INSTITUTION OF MECHANICAL ENGINEERS. - - On Thursday, August 3, 1865, an excursion was made by the Members of - the Institution of Mechanical Engineers of England, to the Dublin - Corporation Waterworks at the Stillorgan and Roundwood Reservoirs. - The members proceeded from Bray through the Glen of the Downs, along - a portion of the line of pipes, and at the Roundwood Reservoir - they were handsomely entertained by Sir John Gray, M.P., the - Chairman of the Waterworks Committee, and by Mr. John Jameson, the - Deputy-Chairman. - -The following parody appeared in a Dublin newspaper a few days later. Dr. -Waller, who is mentioned in it, was then the Chairman of the Connoree -Copper and Sulphur Mines, in the Vale of Avoca, which were also visited by -the party of Engineers:-- - - -THE TWO HUNDRED. - -(After Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade.") - - "Half-past nine, August three-- - Half-past nine--onward! - Off to the Vartry Works - Went some two hundred. - Off to the Vartry Works, - Where the good water lurks, - Down on the Wicklow line, - Thinking of how they'd dine; - 'Toasting,' with best of wine, - Off--with the weather fine-- - Went the two hundred. - - "'Forward!' said Sir John Gray, - On to the station, Bray, - There, there was some delay. - Some of the party said - 'Waller has blundered.' - But they were wrong, to doubt-- - Forty-three cars set out, - On from the station there, - Into the mountain air-- - Through Wicklow's mountain air-- - Drove the two hundred. - - "Arrived at the Vartry stream, - Inspected each shaft and beam; - Saw how the men with spade - Embankments and _puddle_ made: - Crowds there of every grade - Admired and wondered. - Gray, like an engineer-- - Explained what was strange or queer: - All the works, far and near, - He showed the two hundred. - - "Then through the Vartry pipes - As niggers bend to stripes, - Right through these monster pipes. - Like string through a bodkin, - Sir John led a lot of us, - Making small shot of us; - The first man he caught of us - Was our _London Times_--Godkin. - - "Done with the Vartry Works, - Flashed all our knives and forks; - To work, like some 'hungry Turks,' - Went the two hundred. - Soup, fish, meat, fowl, and ham, - Ice, jellies, pies, and jam; - At this wild mountain cram - All the guests wondered. - - "Champagne to the right of them, - Champagne to the left of them, - Champagne around them, - Popping and spurting. - Toasts then came from the chair, - Toasting the ladies fair, - But not a female there, - Therefore no flirting. - - "Good wine of every sort, - Speeches with joke and sport; - Then they went back again, - But not the two hundred. - Some of them went astray - O'er hills and far away, - But, getting home next day, - Made up the two hundred. - - "W. S." - -This poem is signed with the initials W. S., which probably stand for -the name of the late Mr. William Smith, a gentleman well-known in Dublin -literary circles, as the author of many clever parodies which appeared -over the _nom de plume_ of "Billy Scribble." Whether these humorous poems -have ever been published in a collected form, I cannot say, and I should -be glad to receive any information about them. - - * * * * * - - -"THE HALF HUNDRED" (OF COALS). - -_A good way after A. Tennyson's "Six Hundred."_ - - Up the stairs, up the stairs, - Up the stairs, onward! - Joe took, all out of breath, - Coals, half a hundred! - Up he went, still as death, - Lest they had wonder'd - That I, with a cellar large, - Bought by the "Hundred!" - - "Forward! the light evade; - Let 'em not know," I said; - "Glide up as still as death, - With the 'Half-hundred!' - Let them be gently laid! - No sound as by earthquake made - When the ground's sunder'd! - You here, if one should spy, - Wondering the reason why? - I with the shame should die! - So crawl up still as death, - With the 'Half-hundred!'" - - A cat on the right of him! - Cat on the left of him! - Cat at the front of him! - What if he blunder'd? - Slipt his foot! clean he fell! - Came then a horrid yell! - Joe look'd as pale as death, - As down they came _pell mell_, - All the "Half-hundred!" - - Out popt the "party" there! - Wondering what meant that _ere_ - Noise on the landing stair! - All stood and wonder'd! - Dust-clouds of coal and coke! - Made them all nearly choke! - Oh! such a dreadful smoke! - As from the second floor - Rolled the "Half-hundred!" - - Voices at right of him! - Voices at left of him! - Voices behind him! - Question'd and thunder'd! - Shrunk I into my shell; - Ah! how my grandeur fell! - Knowing that (thought a "swell") - I was thus found to buy - Coals by the "Hundred!" - - How does one's glory fade, - When there an end is made - At what the world wonder'd? - Ne'er from my mind will fade - That awkward mess we made, - Of the "Half-hundred!" - - JAMES BRUTON. - - _(From the Stratford-on-Avon Herald.)_ - - * * * * * - -The following clever parody was given to me, about ten years ago, by a -young Scotch friend, who has since gone to New Zealand. I have no clue to -the _year_ in which it was written (the day of the month, however, was -carefully preserved), nor do I know by _whom_ it was written, nor where it -made its first appearance in public. Will any kind correspondent furnish -me with information on these points? - - -THE DOCTOR'S HEAVY BRIGADE. - - "They would scarcely believe him when he told them that when in - Thurso, some time ago, he on one occasion saw six hundred people - asleep in a church." Speech of Dr. Guthrie, October 26th. - - O'er their devoted heads, - While the law thunder'd, - Snugly and heedlessly - Snored the Six Hundred! - Great was the preacher's theme; - Screw'd on was all the steam; - Neither with shout nor scream - Could he disturb the dream - Of the Six Hundred! - - Terrors to right of them! - Terrors to left of them! - Terrors in front of them! - Hell itself plundered! - Of its most awful things, - All those unlawful things. - Weak-minded preacher flings - At the dumb-founder'd! - Boldly he spoke, and well, - All on deaf ears it fell, - Vain was his loudest yell - Volley'd and thundered; - For, caring--the truth to tell, - Neither for Heaven nor Hell, - Snor'd the Six Hundred; - - Still, with redoubled zeal, - Still he spoke onward, - And, in a wild appeal, - Striking with hand and heel, - Making the pulpit reel, - Shaken and sundered-- - Called them the Church's foes, - Threatened with endless woes, - Faintly the answer rose, - (Proofs of their sweet repose), - From the United Nose - Of the Six Hundred! - - -L'ENVOY. - - Sermons of near an hour, - Too much for human power; - Prayers, too, made to match - (Extemporaneous batch, - Wofully blundered). - With a service of music, - Fit to turn every pew sick, - Should it be wondered? - Churches that will not move - Out of the ancient groove - Through which they floundered. - If they will lag behind, - Still must expect to find - Hearers of such a kind - As the Six Hundred! - - * * * * * - - -THE CHARGE OF THE BLACK BRIGADE.[3] - - Half a day, half a day, - Sped the clocks onward, - While in Freemason's Hall - Roared the six hundred!-- - Frantic the Black Brigade, - "Charge for the Church!" they said, - In the Freemason's Hall - Roared the six hundred! - - Frantic the Black Brigade, - Fearful the row they made, - Some day they'll know too well - How they have blundered. - Theirs not to hear reply, - Theirs throat and lungs to try, - Theirs to bawl "Low" and "High," - Round the Archbishop's chair - Roared the seven hundred! - - Canons to right of him, - Canons to left of him, - Canons in front of him, - Shouted and thundered! - Stormed at with groan and yell, - Really they stood it well, - Till they were out of breath, - Till an Earl tried to quell - Howls by the hundred! - - Flustered the laymen's hair; - Flushed all the clergy were; - Scaring the waiters there - Hooting and hissing, while - York's prelate wondered-- - Guides of us sinner folk - - Precept and law they broke, - Curate and rector spoke, - Dealing the Church a stroke - Shaken and sundered-- - Then they divided, and - Lost the six hundred! - - Clergy to right of chair, - Clergy to left of chair, - Clergy in front of chair, - Shouted and thundered! - Stamping, with groan and yell, - Past any power to quell, - They who had roared so well - Went blessed, and out of breath, - Back to their flocks to tell - All that was done by them-- - Nice fourteen hundred! - - When will the scandal fade - Of the wild row they made? - All the world wondered - Why such a noise was made - All by the Church Brigade-- - Blind fourteen hundred! - - _Punch_, 1868. - - * * * * * - - -AT THE MAGDALEN GROUND. - -_Ecce canit formas alius jactusque pilarum._ - -I. - - Drive to the Magdalen Ground; - Soon myself there I found, - Balls flew, and ground boys - After them blundered! - Theirs not at ease to lie, - Theirs but to field, and shy - Balls up and mind their eye; - If they were out of breath, - Who could have wondered? - -II. - - Balls to the right of me! - Balls to the left of me! - Balls, too, in front of me! - Nearly a hundred! - There stood each cricket swell, - Some of them batted well, - Smacking the balls about; - Seldom their wickets fell; - I stood and wondered! - -III. - - Thirsty, with elbows bare, - Bowlers were bowling there; - Cricket-balls through the air - Whizzed past their heads the while. - Muchly I wondered - Why no one's head was broke, - For at each mighty stroke - Close past the legs or head - Of some unconscious bloke, - Fast the balls thundered; - Which, had they hit him, would - Limbs have near sundered! - -IV. - - Balls to the right of me! - Balls to the left of me! - Balls, too, behind me! - Bounded and thundered! - Then came a sudden thwack, - Right on my poor old back, - Earthward I tumbled smack, - Knocked out was all my breath - With this untimely crack; - Whether my bones were smashed, - I lay and wondered. - - Ne'er will the memory fade - Of the large bruise it made, - Not if six hundred - Years on this earth I stayed. - Why cricket's ever played, - Often I've wondered! - - From _Lays of Modern Oxford, 1874_. - - * * * * * - -The following is a fair specimen of the Puff Poetical, taken from the -_Daily News_ of January, 1878:-- - - -CHARGE OF THE FAIR BRIGADE. - -_With the Junior Partner's Apologies to Mr, Tennyson._ - - Half a league, half a league, - Half a league onward, - All on the underground line - Rode the six hundred. - Right! cried the guard of the train; - Right! for the Sale, he said, - Into the Terminus then - Glide the six hundred. - - Forward the bright brigade! - Was there a heart dismayed, - Not tho' it seemed too true - Someone had fainted. - Their's not to call a fly, - Aldgate, the station nigh; - Their's but to try and buy, - Into the premises - Came the six hundred. - - Counters to right of them, - Counters to left of them, - Counters in front of them, - Dighted and lumbered; - Greeted with chair and grace - Boldly they entered apace, - Into the matter fain, - Into the "Sale" amain - Went the six hundred. - - Flash'd all their note-books fair, - Flash'd all the pencils there, - Noting with all due care. - Purchases rich and rare, - All the world wondered; - Plunged in the "Hibernum Sale," - Pleased with each neat detail; - Silken and Linen - Metre and yard-stick fail - Almost to measure. - Then they hark back, but not-- - Not unencumbered. - - Counters to right of them, - Counters to left of them, - Counters behind them - Piled up with wonders; - Offered some bargains rare, - Mute with a great despair - They that had bought so well - Came from the "Tempus" Sale - Tired and deadly pale, - Weary six hundred. - - When can their gladness fade? - O! the good time they had! - All the world wondered. - Honour the "parcels made;" - Honour the Drapers' Trade, - Noble six hundred. - - * * * * * - - -THE CHARGE OF THE "BUSTLE." - - Forward the Big Bustle! - Down the long street rustle, - Sweeping the street Arab - Into the gutter; - Swells to the right of it, - Swells to the left of it. - Cane, stick, and eyeglass, - All in a flutter! - - Loud cries the errand-boy, - "Big Bustle there, ahoy!" - And the respectable - Citizens stare-- - Reckless of every one, - On goes the "haughty one," - Sweeping past houses, - Terrace and square. - - But look, the low'ring sky - Portends a storm is nigh; - While men on all sides - Gallantly throng; - Swells to the right of it, - Swells to the left of it, - Blue Bustle charges, - Sweeping along. - - Ah, 'tis a rainy day! - Streams flood the muddy way, - And the fair ornament - Cheeky cads hustle; - Homeward it now retreats, - Flies from the crowded streets, - Safe at last! ah, but not-- - _Not the same Bustle!_ - - _Judy_, 17th April 1872. - - * * * * * - - -OUR BOYS. - -On the occasion of the Six Hundredth performance of this most successful -comedy at the Vaudeville Theatre, the following verses were composed:-- - - Keep the league! keep the league, - Keep our league onward! - We twain have "run" a piece - Nights now Six Hundred. - - Though but a light brigade, - Not such "great guns" 'tis said. - Yet we a play have played - Nights full Six Hundred! - - "Here's your piece," Byron said, - "Take it friends, undismayed," - So we did, for we knew - Seldom he's blundered! - Ours not to talk, but buy, - Ours but to act (or try!) - How fared the Comedy! - Into two years we've run, - Nights now Six Hundred. - - Prophets to right of us, - Prophets to left of us, - Prophets in front of us, - Volleyed and thundered! - Wiseacre shot and shell, - "May, for a time, do well!" - Ne'er, in their jaws (so right!) - Ne'er in their mouths that night - Boded Six Hundred. - - "Flashy! a thing of air! - Flashy! but very fair!" - So said these wonders there, - Stage-wise alarmists! while - All who of fun'd heard, - Crushed in the groaning pit. - Fought thro', fought bit by bit! - Coster and Nobleman - Laughed at the same old hit, - Laughed at, and wondered, - Thought of that night, but not - Dreamed of Six Hundred! - - Dresses wore spite of us, - Scenes waned each night of us, - Stitches made light of us, - Severed and sundered; - Summers on "houses" tell, - "Business," tho', never fell, - Everything turned out well, - So, we are playing still, - Playing each night with will, - All that is left of us - After Six Hundred! - - When shall this fortune fade? - No increased charge we've made - (Herein we blundered!) - Thanks to all, true as steel! - Thanks to the Public, we'll - Double Six Hundred. - -These stanzas, which bore the signature of Mr. Robert Reece, were -circulated among the audience, but were not spoken from the stage. - -The extraordinary run of _Our Boys_, which closed in April, 1879, will -long excite the curiosity and wonder of the theatrical world. Mr. Byron's -comedy was produced January 16, 1875, and was played continuously for four -years three months and three days. This would allow about 1,321 nights, -but extra day representations have raised the total number of performances -to 1,362. Besides this return the "long runs" of previous days were -completely dwarfed. When _Our American Cousin_ was brought out at the -Haymarket it ran for 496 nights, and the _Colleen Bawn_ went 278; _Meg's -Diversion_, 330; and _School_ 381 nights respectively. - - * * * * * - - "_Apropos_ of the vote for six millions," said _The Globe_, "Mr. - Gladstone, in his speech, protested against many of the attacks - which had been levelled at him during the debate, and he threatened - Mr. Chaplin in particular with his vengeance upon some future - occasion, and he quoted, amid the laughter of the House, some - doggerel verses which had been sent to him in reference to the - vote." These lines, parodying 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,' ran - thus:-- - - "Ring out your battle cry-- - Vote us our war supply, - This must we do or die-- - Vote the six millions. - Theirs not to reason why, - Ours not to make reply, - Ours but to say 'You lie'-- - Vote the six millions." - - * * * * * - - -THE CHARGE OF THE "RAD." BRIGADE. - -(After Mr. Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade".) - - By the League, by the League, by the League onward, - Into the Commons' House went the three hundred. - Forward the "Rad." Brigade! "Pass this Bill quick!" he said. - Into the Commons' House went the three hundred. - - Forward the "Rad." Brigade! Who is a whit afraid? - What tho' the Tories say we have all blundered? - Theirs but to moan and cry--let Jemmy Lowther sigh, and ask Sir - Stafford "Why?" - Into the Commons' House went the three hundred. - - Leaguers to right of them, Whiggites to left of them, - Tories in front of them, shouted and thundered. - Stormed at with hoot and yell, while weak-kneed Lib'rals fell, - Into the lobby drear, into the House pell-mell, rushed the - three hundred; - - Flashed all their tongues quite bare, each one his speech to air, - Crushing the Leaguers there, dishing the Tories while Salisbury - wondered. - Plunged in the hot debate, those who the rules had broke-- - Parnell and Dillon--reeled from brave Gladstone's stroke shattered - and sundered; - Then they went out, but not--not the three hundred. - - Leaguers to right of them, Whigs on the left of them, - Tories behind them, stamped, roared, and thundered, - Stormed at with hoot and yell, while many a weak one fell, - They that had voted well came from the lobby back, back to the House - pell-mell-- - All that was left of the happy three hundred. - - When will they e'er be paid? Oh, the grand vote they gave! - Salisbury wondered! - Honour the vote they gave! Long live the "Rad." Brigade! - Gladstone's three hundred. - - 25th June, 1882. J. ARTHUR ELLIOTT. - - * * * * * - - -A LAY OF THE LAW COURTS. - -Being the experience of Officials, Counsel, Clients, Witnesses, and all -who do their business in the Great Legal Maze. With apologies to the Poet -Laureate. - - * * * * * - - Up the stairs, down the stairs, - Farther and farther yet; - Here we come out of breath, - Flustered and sundered. - - Barriers to right of us, - Barriers to left of us, - Barriers in front of us! - Bad words we thundered. - - Most doors are barred and locked, - All sense of safety shocked; - Why is our business blocked - By those who blundered? - - Back to the charge we're led; - Corridors dark we tread; - Had we gone heels o'er head - Who could have wondered? - - No friend to say "Beware!" - No warning, "Pray, take care!" - Each step another snare! - If one, there's five hundred. - - Ours not to make reply; - Ours not to reason why; - Still we may raise the cry, - Some one has blundered! - - _Funny Folks_, 1883. - - * * * * * - - -THE LATEST CHARGE. - -[At a meeting in Ireland recently, when Mr. Biggar got up to speak, six -hundred ladies rose and quitted the room.] - - On their legs, on their legs, - On their legs onward, - All with face pale as death - Rose the Six hundred. - How dare he show his head? - "Rush from the wretch!" they said. - Straight to the street beneath - Strode the Six Hundred. - - Forward the fair brigade, - No woman there dismayed. - Not though each fair one knew - Biggar had blundered. - His not to reason why, - His not to make reply, - Best take his hat and fly, - When with rage out of breath - Rushed the Six Hundred. - - Married to right of him, - Single to left of him, - Widows in front of him - Volleyed and thundered. - No storm of shot and shell - E'er silenced man so well. - Joe! ne'er his tale shall tell - When near an Irish belle-- - Noble Six Hundred! - - _Funny Folks_, January 1884. - -_The Nineteenth Century_, March 1878, contained a poem entitled-- - - -THE REVENGE. - -_A Ballad of the Fleet._ - -I. - - At FLORES, in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay, - And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away: - "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!" - Then sware Lord Thomas Howard; "'Fore God I am no coward; - But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, - And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. - We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?" - - * * * * * - -The rugged metre, and the exaggerated national sentiment of this ballad -were thus amusingly parodied:-- - - -RETRIBUTION--A XIXTH CENTURY BALLAD OF THE SLOE. - -_By the Author of "Vengeance, a Ballad of the Fleet."_ - - At his chambers in the Albany Sir Richard Tankard lay, - And a missive, like brown buttered toast, was brought him on a tray; - "Come, drink my Spanish wine--fifty dozen, all is thine, - And bring your friends with you, we'll drink till all is blue." - - Then sware Lord Thomas Drunker: "By jingo, I'm no funker; - But I cannot go, I fear, for my liver's out of gear, - And my head feels like to burst, and I only slake my thirst - With Apollinaris water, for I dare not touch port wine." - - Then spake Sir Richard Tankard, "I know you are no funker, - And fly wine for a moment to return to it again, - But my liver and my brain are free from ache and pain. - I should count myself the funker if I left them, my Lord Drunker, - Unsatisfied, and craving for the purple wine of Spain." - - He called his friends together to go with him and dine. - He told them of the telegram that told him of the wine. - - "We will go for we are dry; - Good Sir Richard, we are thine, - And the vintage we will try. - - If good there will be little left ere morrow's sun be set!" - And Sir Richard said again, "We be all good Englishmen; - Let us empty all the bottles down our sturdy British throttles, - For I never turned my back upon glass or bottle yet." - - Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roared a hurrah, and so, - Like true-born sturdy Englishmen, we all of us would go. - And found the wine all laid along the floor in many a row, - And half was laid on the right-hand side, and half on the left was - seen, - And the table, like the white sea foam, ran down the room between. - - The dim eyes of the waiters winked with an inward laugh; - They seemed to mock the notion that we the wine would quaff. - But as the night was waning they watched the rows grow small, - And whispered to each other, "I bet they'll drink it all!" - For the wine was flowing swiftly down, as a cataract might be - When it leaps from a mountain to the sea! - - And the moon went down and the stars came out o'er the smoky London - town; - And never a moment ceased the flow of the purple liquor down! - Glass after glass, the whole night long, the mighty magnums went, - And bottle after bottle was away from the table sent. - - "Dead men," as in a battle field, lay strewn upon the floor, - But still there was no cry of "Hold!" but constant shouts for "more!" - For he said, "Drink on, drink on!" - Though he scarce could lift his hand. - - And it chanced when more than half of the summer night was gone - That he rose up on his feet and tried to stand, - But he sunk into his chair, and lay back grinning there, - And close up to his side we stept, - Then--the rule in such a case--we cork'd him on the face, - And he fell upon the floor, and he slept. - - So pass'd we all, and when we woke each knew of a heavy head, - For not a soul of all of us had found the way to bed! - And a tempest of indignation swept over our surging brains, - That we could be floored by vintage, ay, ev'n of a hundred Spains! - - "It never was PORT"! we cried, and so we tasted it once again--'twas - SLOE! - Vile SLOE, with all our might, we had drunk for half the night! - And brave Sir Richard Tankard said, "Boys, although we drank hard, - 'Tis SLOE-JUICE, and not Spanish wine, is giving us such pains!" - Then in a sink, that day, we poured the rest away, - To be lost evermore in the drains. - -On the 15th March, 1882, at one of the London Ballad Concerts, Mr. Santley -sang, for the first time, a patriotic song, written by Alfred Tennyson, -the music composed by Mr. C. V. Stanford. This song was announced with -much ceremony as a new work, whereas it was simply an abbreviated, and -somewhat modified, arrangement of a poem in five verses, entitled _Hands -all Round_, which had appeared in the _Examiner_ in 1852, over the -signature _Merlin_. The song did not arouse any enthusiasm, and is now -only memorable for the offence its chorus gave to the temperance party. -The first verse is quoted to illustrate the parodies:-- - - "First pledge our Queen, my friends, and then - A health to England, every guest; - He best will serve the race of men - Who loves his native country best! - May freedom's oak for ever last, - With larger life from day to day; - He loves the present and the past - Who lops the moulder'd branch away. - Hands all round! God the traitor's hope confound! - To the great cause of Freedom, drink my friends, - And the great name of England round and round." - -On this poem getting into the papers, the Good Templars attached far too -much importance to it, and wrote to remonstrate with the Poet Laureate. -The following reply was sent to Mr. Malins, the Chief Templar:-- - - "86, Eaton-square, London,--Sir,--My father begs to thank the - Committee of the Executive of the Grand Lodge of England Good - Templars for their resolution. No one honours more highly the good - work done by them than my father. I must, however, ask you to - remember that the common cup has in all ages been employed as a - sacred symbol of unity, and that my father has only used the word - 'drink' in reference to this symbol. I much regret that it should - have been otherwise understood.--Faithfully yours, HALLAM TENNYSON." - -The following parody, adverting to this correspondence, appeared in -_Punch_, April 1, 1882:-- - - -SLOPS ALL ROUND! - -_Tennyson Teetotalised._ - -[The Manchester Good Templars having expostulated with the Poet Laureate -for countenancing "in his latest so-called patriotic song, _Hands all -Round_," the heathen and intoxicating custom of drinking toasts (in -anything stronger than toast and water) it is understood that the -conscience-stricken Bard has prepared the following "revised version" for -the special use of the I. O. G. T's.] - - FIRST pledge the Alliance, friends, and then - A health to WILFRID, champion dear! - He honours best that best of men - Who drinks his health in ginger-beer. - May LAWSON'S jokes for ever live, - With washier shine from day to day, - He's Freedom true Conservative, - Who Zoedone imbibes alway. - Slops all round! - Heaven the Wittler's hopes confound! - To the great cause Teetotal, swig my friends, - And the great name of LAWSON round and round! - - To Local Optionists who long - To hold the land in leading-strings, - By boldly banning liquors strong, - For lemonade and such sweet things. - To all who 'neath our watery skies, - Would English wits with water whelm, - To Toastandwaterdom's swift rise, - Till the Good Templar rules the realm, - Slops all round! - Heaven the Wittler's hopes confound! - To the great cause Teetotal swig, my friends, - And the great name of LAWSON round and round! - - To all our Statesmen, so they be - Forwarders of our League's desire, - To both our Houses, if with glee - They'll quench, in water, Freedom's fire, - What odds though Freedom's flag _should_ sink, - Whilst high the Temperance banner waves? - Shall Britons bondsmen be to Drink - Through fear of being Slopdom's slaves? - Slops all round! - Heaven the Wittlers' hopes confound! - To the great cause Teetotal swig, my friends, - And the great name of LAWSON round and round! - - * * * * * - - -DRINKS ALL ROUND. - -(Being an attempt to arrange Mr. Tennyson's noble words for truly -Patriotic, Protectionist, and Anti-Aboriginal Circles):-- - - A health to Jingo first, and then - A health to shell, a health to shot! - The man who hates not other men - I deem no perfect patriot! - To all who hold all England mad - We drink; to all who'd tax her food! - We pledge the man who hates the Rad! - We drink to Bartle Frere and Froude! - Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned! - To the great cause of Jingo drink, my boys, - And the great name of Jingo round and round! - - To all the Companies that long - To rob as folk robbed years ago; - To all that wield the double thong, - From Queensland round to Borneo! - To all that, under Indian skies, - Call Aryan man "a blasted nigger;" - To all rapacious enterprise; - To rigour everywhere, and vigour!-- - Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned! - To the great name of Jingo drink, my boys, - And every filibuster round and round! - - To all our statesmen, while they see - An outlet new for British trade, - Where British fabrics still may be - With British size all overweighed! - Wherever gin and guns are sold - We've scooped the artless nigger in; - Where men give ivory and gold, - We give them measles, tracts, and gin! - Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned! - To the great name of Jingo drink, my boys, - And to Adulteration, round and round. - - From _The Daily News_, March 17, 1882. - - * * * * * - - -THE LAUREATE'S LAST LYRIC; OR, NORTHAMPTON' FREEMEN. - - Come! pledge Northampton, friends, and then - A health to Freemen's every guest; - He best will serve the race of men - Who loves his country's freedom best! - May Freedom's reign for ever last, - With wider bounds from day to day; - He loves the present, not the past, - Who breaks the tyrant's chain away! - - CHORUS--Hands all round! All despotic laws confound! - Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends, - The hope of Britain round and sound! - - To all the British hearts, who long - Will keep their heart of freedom whole-- - To all our noble sons, the strong - Of British birth--the men of soul - Who rise against coercive wrong, - That drags "suspects" untried to gaol, - While starving thousands in the realm. - Oh! burst the prison of the "Pale." - Whatever statesman holds the helm. - - CHORUS--Hands all round! All despotic laws confound! - Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends, - The hope of Britain round and sound! - - To all our statesmen who for Right, - Are leaders at the land's desire; - Nor bend nor aid the force of Might, - That gags free speech to quench the fire - That burns to make the people great, - In thought and deed on every hand. - We freedom gave the mighty State, - But lack it in our native land! - - CHORUS--Hands all round! All despotic laws confound! - Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends, - The hope of Britain round and sound! - - June 1882. E. T. CRAIG. - - * * * * * - -Tennyson's blank verse has seldom been more successfully imitated than -in _The Very Last Idyll_, written by Shirley Brooks for "Punch's Pocket -Book," it concludes thus:-- - - "And the blameless king, - Rising again (to Lancelot's discontent, - Who held all speeches a tremendous bore), - Said, "If one duty to be done remains, - And 'tis neglected, all the rest is nought - But Dead Sea apples and the acts of apes." - Smiled Guinevere, and begged him not to preach; - She knew that duty, and it should be done: - So what of pudding on that festal night - Was not consumed by Arthur and his guests, - The queen upon the following morning, fried." - -In a similar strain, but more ponderous in treatment is _Sir Tray: an -Arthurian Idyll_, which appeared in Blackwood's Magazine for January, -1873. A few of the opening lines betray the whole of the jest:-- - - "The widow'd dame of Hubbard's ancient line - Turned to her cupboard, cornered anglewise - Betwixt this wall and that, in quest of aught - To satisfy the craving of Sir Tray, - Prick-eared companion of her solitude, - Red-spotted, dirty white, and bare of rib, - Who followed at her high and pattering heels, - Prayer in his eye, prayer in his slinking gait, - Prayer in his pendulous pulsating tail. - Wide on its creaking jaws revolved the door, - The cupboard yawned, deep throated, thinly set - For teeth, with bottles, ancient cannisters, - And plates of various pattern, blue or white; - Deep in the void she thrust her hookèd nose - Peering near sighted for the wished-for bone, - Whiles her short robe of samite, tilted high, - The thrifty darnings of her hose revealed;-- - The pointed feature travelled o'er the delf, - Greasing its tip, but bone or bread found none. - Wherefore Sir Tray abode still dinnerless, - Licking his paws beneath the spinning-wheel, - And meditating much on savoury meats." - -The hypercritical might object that, inasmuch as the dame greased the -tip of her nose whilst peering into the recesses of her store-chamber, -that some small rest of edibles was there, but the poem hurries on to -its tragical climax, and carries the reader breathless past such trivial -objections as these. - -The dame passes out, and swiftly down the streets of Camelot, where she -seeks, and finds, the needed bread, and hastens back--but all too late, -alas! for Sir Tray lay prone upon the hearth, and neither breathed nor -stirred:-- - - "Dead?" said the Dame, while louder wailed Elaine; - "I see," she said, "thy fasts were all too long, - Thy commons all too short, which shortened thus - Thy days, tho' thou mightst still have cheered mine age - Had I but timelier to the city wonned. - Thither I must again, and that right soon, - For now 'tis meet we lap thee in a shroud, - And lay thee in the vault by Astolat, - Where faithful Tray shall by Sir Hubbard lie." - - Up a by-lane the undertaker dwelt; - There day by day he plied his merry trade, - And all his undertakings undertook: - Erst knight of Arthur's Court, _Sir Waldgrave_ hight, - A gruesome carle who hid his jests in gloom, - And schooled his lid to counterfeit a tear. - With cheerful hammer he a coffin tapt, - While hollow, hollow, hollow rang the wood, - And, as he sawed and hammered, thus he sang-- - - Wood, hammer, nails, ye build a house for him, - Nails, hammer, wood, ye build a house for me, - Paying the rent, the taxes, and the rates. - - I plant a human acorn in the ground, - And therefrom straightway springs a goodly tree, - Budding for me in bread and beer and beef. - - O Life, dost thou bring Death or Death bring thee? - Which of the twain is bringer, which the brought? - Since men must die that other men may live. - - O Death, for me thou plump'st thine hollow cheeks, - Mak'st of thine antic grin a pleasant smile, - And prank'st full gaily in thy winding sheet. - - Yet am I but the henwife's favourite chick, - Pampered but doomed; and, in the sequel sure, - Death will the Undertaker overtake." - -Thus to Sir Waldgrade the Dame recounts her loss:-- - - "Sir Tray that with me dwelt, - Lies on my lonely hearthstone stark and stiff; - Wagless the tail that waved to welcome me." - -Here Waldgrave interposed in sepulchral tones-- - - "Oft have I noted, when the jest went round, - Sad 'twas to see the wag forget his tale-- - Sadder to see the tail forget its wag." - -The description of the coffin follows, and, lastly, after sundry -vicissitudes (including a visit to the hatter's), the dame returned-- - - "Home through the darksome wold, and raised the latch, - And marked, full lighted by the ingle-glow, - Sir Tray, with spoon in hand, and cat on knee, - Spattering the mess about the chaps of Puss." - - * * * * * - - -SIR EGGNOGG. - - Forth from the purple battlements he fared, - Sir Eggnogg of the Rampant Lily, named - From that embrasure of his argent shield - Given by a thousand leagues of heraldry - On snuffy parchments drawn,--so forth he fared, - By bosky boles and autumn leaves he fared, - Where grew the juniper with berries black, - The sphery mansions of the future gin. - But naught of this decoyed his mind, so bent - On fair Miasma, Saxon-blooded girl, - Who laughed his loving lullabies to scorn, - And would have snatched his hero-sword to deck - Her haughty brow, or warm her hands withal, - So scornful she: and thence Sir Eggnogg cursed - Between his teeth, and chewed his iron boots - In spleen of love. But ere the morn was high - In the robustious heaven, the postern-tower - Clang to the harsh, discordant, slivering scream - Of the tire-woman, at the window bent - To dress her crispèd hair. She saw, ah woe! - The fair Miasma, overbalanced, hurled - O'er the flamboyant parapet which ridged - The muffled coping of the castle's peak, - Prone on the ivory pavement of the court, - Which caught and cleft her fairest skull, and sent - Her rosy brains to fleck the Orient floor. - This saw Sir Eggnogg, in his stirrups poised, - Saw he and cursed, with many a deep-mouthed oath, - And, finding nothing more could reunite - The splintered form of fair Miasma, rode - On his careering palfrey to the wars, - And there found death, another death than hers. - - From _Diversions of the Echo Club_. - - * * * * * - -The following is from the _St. James's Gazette_, January 14, 1881. - - -THE PLAYERS. - -_A Lawn Tennisonian Idyl._ - - I, who a decade past had lived recluse, - Left for awhile the dust of books and town - To share the pastimes of a country house; - And thus it chanced that I beheld a scene - That steep'd my rusted mind in wonderment. - The morn was passing fair; no vagrant cloud - Obscured the summer sun, as from the porch - I sallied forth to saunter at my will - Adown the garden path. Anon I came - To where a lawn outspread its verdant robe, - Whose decoration filled me with amaze. - Lawns many had I seen in days gone by, - But never lawn before the like of this; - For o'er its grassy plane a strange device - Of parallelograms rectangular - Was limn'd in lines of most exceeding whiteness: - Athwart the centre of this strange device - A threaden net was stretch'd a full yard high, - And clasp'd in its reticulated arms, - As ivy clasps the oak, two sturdy staves - Uprear'd on either side. At either end, - Holding opposing corners of the field, - A youth and damsel did themselves disport - In costume airy, mystic, wonderful; - The while in dexter hand each held a quaint - And spoon-shaped instrument of chequer'd strings-- - Modell'd perchance, upon an ancient lute-- - Wherewith they nimbly urged the bounding sphere - Across the meshy bar. - - No space had I - To ponder, ere they spied me and did call - A welcome--"Hast thou come to see us play?" - "What is the game?" I ask'd; they answer'd "Love." - "A pretty game," quoth I, "for man or maid, - But one wherein a third is out of place; - Fain would I therefore go." "Nay, nay," they cried; - "Prithee remain, and thou shalt stand as umpire." - And so I stay'd, and presently besought - To know their prospects. Then the maiden said, - "I'm fifteen now;" the gallant, he replied, - "And thirty, I." Whereon methought at first - That he did somewhat overstate his case, - Though she seem'd rather underneath the mark. - But when they said that she was thirty-two, - And, next, that he was forty, I perceived - They told of other things than length of years; - Since mortals' ages, e'en at census time, - Could scarce be subject to such fluctuations. - Thus did they wage the contest, hither, thither - Running and smiting, till triumphantly - The damsel shouted, "Deuce!" Alas! mused I, - That lips so fair should utter words so base, - Yet would have held my peace, had not the youth - Turn'd unto me--"How's that; was that a fault?" - "A fault!" I answer'd; "aye, and worse than that; - Indeed, 'tis nigh a sin." "Go to," he said; - "Thou makest merry." So the sport went on; - And then she cried, "Advantage, and I win!" - And then, "'Tis deuce again!" and then, "Advantage - To thee!" and then she strove to reach the ball, - And fail'd, and in despair exclaim'd, "Oh, dear, - I'm beaten!" and fell back upon the sward. - "And this," quoth I, "is this your game of love? - Well, I have heard men say that oftentimes - True love, once smooth, is scattered to the deuce - And she that first advantage hath obtain'd, - Doth lose at last, and suffer sad reverse. - Sweet maid, when thou art wed, the deuce avoid, - And thou shalt ne'er at least deserve a beating." - She laugh'd; he frown'd; I turn'd, and went my way. - - * * * * * - -Notwithstanding the care Tennyson has usually bestowed upon his writings, -he has occasionally of late years, published poems in the magazines, -remarkable for their inferiority--even as compared with ordinary magazine -poetry--by no means a very high standard. Perhaps he never wrote a weaker -set of lines than those printed in "Good Words" for March, 1868, they were -headed-- - - -1865-1866. - - I stood on a tower in the wet, - And New Year and Old Year met, - And winds were roaring and blowing; - And I said, "O years! that meet in tears, - Have ye aught that is worth the knowing?" - Science enough and exploring, - Wanderers coming and going; - Matter enough for deploring, - But aught that is worth the knowing? - Seas at my feet were flowing, - Waves on the shingle pouring; - Old Year roaring and blowing, - And New Year blowing and roaring. - -The following parody, which appeared shortly afterwards, is scarcely -inferior to the Laureate's lines.-- - - -1867-1868. - - I sat in a 'bus in the wet, - "Good Words" I had happened to get, - With Tennyson's last bestowing; - And I said, "O bard! who works so hard, - Have ye aught that is worth the knowing?" - - Verses enough and so boring, - Twaddle quite overflowing, - Rubbish enough for deploring; - But aught that is worth the knowing? - Placards on walls were glowing, - Puffs in the papers pouring, - "Good Words" roaring and blowing, - "Once a Week" blowing and roaring! - -Or, "another way," as the cookery books say-- - - -A PARODY, - -_After Tennyson's Last._ - - TENNYSON stood in the wet, - And he and his publishers met, - His publishers cursing and swearing, - And they said "O Tennyson tell us, - Have you anything good to sell us, - The public mind it enrages, - To read such bosh by pages, - 'The Victim' was little better, - And oh! that 'Spiteful Letter.'" - They spoke, their poor hair tearing, - TENNYSON poems rehearsing, - Publishers cursing and swearing, - TENNYSON swearing and cursing. - - * * * * * - -"The Victim," above referred to, which also had appeared in "Good Words," -was the subject of the following witty parody, in which the versification -of the original is closely imitated:-- - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 1: The song in _Enid_, here alluded to, runs thus:-- - - Turn, fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud; - Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm and cloud; - Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. - - * * * * * - - Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands; - Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands; - For man is man and master of his fate. - - Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd; - Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud; - Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. -] - -[Footnote 2: A room for each man, and plenty of excellent provisions were -amongst the inducements held out to the deluded victims who enlisted in -the Papal Brigade to fight against Italian unity.] - -[Footnote 3: _Apropos_ of the clamorous meeting of the Clergy, in -Freemason's Hall, December, 1868, the Archbishop of York in the Chair. -1439 votes were recorded at the division.] - - -"THE VICTIM." - -NOT _by Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate_, - -(See _Good Words_, January 1, 1868). - -I. - - A plague upon the people fell, - A plague of writers high and low, - There were some wrote ill, and some wrote well, - And the Novel, the Novel was all the go; - But the people tired of what they admired, - And they said to the Editors one and all, - 'We have had enough of sensation stuff, - So give us a change, be it great or small'-- - And the Editors paled - As they heard the throng-- - What would you have of us? - Poem or Song? - Were it the queerest, - Were it the dearest - Money can purchase, - We'll give you a Song. - -II. - - But still the plague spread far and wide, - Bad novels were written and bought and read, - In which handsome wives took their husbands' lives, - And maidens behaved as if they were wed: - So the people stormed and some of them swore, - '"Good Words" they butter no parsnips, no; - So give us a song, both sweet and strong, - Or you or your magazines may go-- - To Jericho!'-- - Or was it Hong Kong? - 'Were it the queerest, - Were it the dearest, - We'll give them a song.' - -III. - - The Editors went through 'The Men of the Time,' - 'Including the Women,' with eager look, - Through the men and women who dabble in rhyme, - Whose names are inscribed in that golden book. - 'Oh! who shall we get to sing to "the Beast"? - To sing to the Beast a deathless song?'-- - 'Till they came to Tupper, the great High Priest-- - _Proverbially_ the worst of the throng. - And their hearts exulted - A moment or two:-- - '_His_ were the queerest, - But we've promised the _dearest_, - Tupper won't do!' - -IV. - - Again they looked for a bard divine. - 'Here's one,' they exclaimed, 'should be preferred - A poet the half of whose name is _Swine_, - Is fittest to sing to the swinish herd. - But _Swine_ and _burn_ suggest in their turn - Ideas a little too gross and warm; - And a poet who writes of hermaphrodites - Is scarcely the man to weather the storm. - So Swineburne, too, - Won't do, won't do! - What's to be done - With the raging throng? - We can't have the queerest, - We'll pay for the dearest: - Give us a song!' - -V. - - The cry went forth o'er cities and towns; - It tickled the ears of the men who write; - It leaped from the land and over the downs, - And flew like wind through the Isle of Wight: - There Tennyson sat in his wide-awake hat, - Or smoked and strolled on his 'sponge-wet' grounds; - '_I_'ll give them a song not over long-- - I'll give them a song for two hundred pounds.' - How happy, how happy, - The Editors grew! - 'Were it the merest - Trash, 'tis the _dearest_, - And therefore will do.' - -VI. - - The poet wrote the poem I quote, - 'The Victim,' whose life the priests would destroy - But the Editor knows ere now, I suppose, - That _he_ is the victim, and not the boy: - 'Tis he must _bleed_ for this rhythmic deed - And ever for more, as the public cry, - May Alfred the Great--the Laureate-- - Shriek out 'the _dearest_, the _dearest_ am I!' - And the public are happy, - And so they ought; - For to them doth belong, - If not the sincerest - Outburst of song - That ever was thought, - At least the dearest - That ever was bought. - - January 27, 1868, "M." - _Dublin Paper_. - -Tennyson's _The Victim_ was curiously anticipated by _The Prophet Enoch_, -a poem by James Burton Robertson (London, James Blackwood, 1860), in which -the following passage occurs:-- - - "'One victim more!' a thousand voices cry; - 'One victim more!' resounds the cave of gloom. - Lo! borne on lofty car, 'mid savage cries - Of a wild band, a costlier victim comes. - It is a lovely stripling, o'er whose cheek - Youth hath her earliest purple bloom suffused: - In rich luxuriant curls his locks descend, - Twined with the fatal flowers that sweetly mock - The victim they adorn. Wild with despair, - His shrieking mother grasps the iron wheel - Of the inexorable car: she spurns - The fierce rebukes, or menace of the throng, - To catch the last glimpse of her darling boy. - 'Ah! spare my son; shed mine own blood instead: - My life may satisfy your vengeful gods!'" - Exclaims the hapless matron, but in vain. - - * * * * * - - -THE THREE COURSES OF ACHILLES. - -Mr. Gladstone's fondness for Homer is well known, and he was doubtless one -of the first to read the Laureate's lines in the _Nineteenth Century_, -called "Achilles Over the Trench." This Trojan hero will now be dearer -than ever to the Premier, for the Laureate's lines show him to be a man -strangely after the "People's William's" own heart. Thus, it is matter of -public notoriety that Mr. Gladstone thinks thrice before he makes his mind -up to any great matter, and he is famed for his historic "three courses." -How curious, then, to find that Achilles, too, has what may be termed a -"triologic" bent of mind! Evidently it was not till he had thought thrice -that he remained sulking in his tent. And when he came out and fought, we -find, from Alfred Tennyson, that-- - - "Thrice from the dyke he sent his mighty shout, - Thrice backward reel'd the Trojans and allies." - -The fragment of verse is incomplete, but we have little doubt that when we -see it complete, we shall read something of this kind:-- - - "Thrice rolled his glowing eye, with fury fired, - And thrice his spear leapt forward at the foe; - Whilst as the sinking sun proclaimed it three, - He thrice imbued it in the Trojan's blood. - Then stood he where three stones were rudely piled, - And thrice he thought what next his course should be; - Thrice wiped the triple tears that dewed his cheek, - Thrice muttered words I care not to repeat; - Then murmuring his mother's name three times, - Made up his mind to slaughter three more foes. - So thrice again his spear was launched in space, - And three miles off, within Troy's triple walls, - Three widows, each with children three, were left - To mourn that he, Achilles, had not thought - Four times that afternoon instead of three." - - From _Funny Folks_. - - * * * * * - - -UNFORTUNATE MISS BAILEY. - -_An Experiment._ - -(A parody of the _Lord of Burleigh_.) - - When he whispers, "O, Miss Bailey, - Thou art brightest of the throng!" - She makes murmur, softly, gaily-- - "Alfred, I have loved thee long." - - Then he drops upon his knees, a - Proof his heart is soft as wax; - She's--I don't know who; but he's a - Captain bold from Halifax. - - Though so loving, such another - Artless bride was never seen; - Coachee thinks that she's his mother-- - Till they get to Gretna Green. - - There they stand by him attended, - Hear the sable smith rehearse - That which links them, when 'tis ended, - Tight for better or for worse. - - Now her heart rejoices--ugly - Troubles need disturb her less-- - Now the Happy Pair are snugly - Seated in the night express. - - So they go with fond emotion, - So they journey through the night; - London is their land of Goschen-- - See its suburbs are in sight! - - Hark, the sound of life is swelling, - Pacing up, and racing down; - Soon they reach her simple dwelling-- - Burley-street, by Somers Town. - - What is there to so astound them? - She cries "Oh!" for he cries "Hah!" - When five brats emerge--confound them! - Shouting out, "MAMMA!"--"PAPA!" - - While at this he wonders blindly, - Nor their meaning can divine, - Proud she turns them round, and kindly, - "All of these are mine and thine!" - - * * * * * - - Here he pines and grows dyspeptic, - Losing heart he loses pith-- - Hints that Bishop Tait's a sceptic, - Swears that Moses was a myth. - - Sees no evidence in Paley, - Takes to drinking ratafia: - Shies the muffins at Miss Bailey, - While she's pouring out the tea. - - One day, knocking up his quarters, - Poor Miss Bailey found him dead, - Hanging in his knotted garters, - Which she knitted ere they wed. - - FREDERICK LOCKER. - - * * * * * - - -In Memoriam. - -£ S. D. - -"_Abiit ad plures._" - -BADEN-BADEN, MDCCCLXVIII. - - -I. - - I HOLD it truth, with him who rings - His money on a testing stone - To judge its goodness by its tone, - That gold will buy all other things. - - It hides the ravages of years; - It gilds the matrimonial match; - It makes deformity "a catch;" - And dries the sorrowing widow's tears. - - Let love grasp cash, lest both be drowned; - Let Mammon keep his gilded gloss; - Ah, easier far to bear the loss - Of love, than of a thousand pound! - - Let not the victor say with scorn, - While of his winnings he may boast, - "Behold the man who played and lost, - And now is weak and overworn." - - * * * * * - -II. - - O, Fortune, fickle as the breeze! - O, Temptress, at the shrine of gain! - O, sweet and bitter!--all in vain - I come to thee for monied ease! - - "The chances surely run," she says; - But prick the series with a pin; - Mark well; and then go in and win!-- - Or lose! for there are but two ways. - - And still the phantom, Fortune, stands - And sings with siren silvery tone; - Music that I may reach alone - With empty purse and empty hands! - - And shall I still this fickle fair - With constant energies pursue? - Or do as other people do-- - Escape the tangles of her hair? - - * * * * * - -XXVII. - - I envy not in any mood - The mortal void of Mammon's lust, - Who never to a chance will trust, - And never Fortune's favours woo'd. - - I envy not the plodding boor, - Whose stupid ignorant content - Cares not if odds on an event - Are 2 to 1 or 10 to 4. - - Nor him who counts himself as blest, - And says, "I take the wiser way, - Because for love alone I play, - So gambling never breaks my rest." - - I hold it true, whate'er befall, - I feel it when I lose the most, - 'Tis better to have play'd and lost - Than never to have played at all. - - (Name of Author not known). - - * * * * * - - -PUNCH TO SALISBURY. - - I hold it true, whate'er befall, - Though Jingo bounce and patriot rail, - 'Twere better far to meet and fail, - Than never try to meet at all. - - * * * * * - - -THE RINKER'S SOLACE. - - I hold it true whoe'er may fall, - I _feel_ it when I tumble most, - 'Tis better to have rinked and lost - Than never to have rinked at all. - - _Tennyson_ (revised). - - * * * * * - - -BEHIND TIME. - - She looked quite cross--her face had not - The smile that once lured one and all, - While waiting at that seaside spot - For him she loved;--divinely tall; - Her sloe-black eyes showed restless change, - Small sparks of anger you might catch, - And yet those eyes you could not match, - Were you throughout the world to range, - "Alas! I'm getting weary, weary-- - Waiting here for Fred; - He said he'd take me sailing--query? - He's not come yet," she said. - - "He asked me when we met last night, - If I would like a sail or row; - I answered 'Yes,' with great delight; - He said at one o'clock we'd go. - - 'Tis now five minutes past the hour, - And where is _he_, I'd like to know? - Oh! if I did not love him so - I'd punish him--and show my pow'r. - But oh, alas! it _is_ so dreary - When I am not with Fred; - I feel like Moore's lamenting Peri: - Why _won't_ he come?" she said. - - The tear-drops then welled from her eyes, - And down her damask cheek they crept; - Her bosom heaved with sundry sighs, - She cried, "I'll _no_ excuse accept. - I will not speak to him," said she; - "How _dare_ he keep me waiting here!" - When suddenly, approaching near, - Her tardy swain she chanced to see; - - And then, forgetting she'd been weary, - She cried, "Oh, here comes Fred!" - And somehow then she seemed less dreary, - "How _nice_ he looks!" she said. - - H. C. NEWTON. - - From _Tom Hood's Comic Annual_, 1884. - -The Poet Laureate's cruise with Sir Donald Currie, in the autumn of 1883, -was an event of some importance, as he was then afforded an opportunity -of reading his poems to a select audience of Royal personages; it is -generally supposed that it was during that trip also that the Prime -Minister offered him the title, his acceptance of which has since been -the subject of so much comment and censure. _Punch_ (September 22, 1883) -described the voyage to the north in the following comical medley of -parodies of the Laureate's poems:-- - - -A LAUREATE'S LOG. - -(_Rough Weather Notes from the New Berth-day Book_.) - - -MONDAY. - - If you're waking, please don't call me, please don't call me, CURRIE - dear, - For they tell me that to-morrow t'wards the open we're to steer! - No doubt, for you and those aloft, the maddest merriest way,-- - But _I_ always feel best in a bay, CURRIE, _I_ always feel best in - a bay! - - -TUESDAY. - - Take, take, take?-- - What will I take for tea? - The thinnest slice--no butter,-- - And that's quite enough for me! - - -WEDNESDAY. - - It is the little roll within the berth - That by-and-by will put an end to mirth, - And, never ceasing, slowly prostrate all! - - -THURSDAY. - - Let me alone! What pleasure can you have - In chaffing evil? Tell me, what's the fun - Of ever climbing up the climbing wave? - All you the rest, you know how to behave - In roughish weather! I, for one, - Ask for the shore--or death, dark death,--I am so done! - - -FRIDAY. - - Twelve knots an hour! But what am I? - A poet, with no land in sight, - Insisting that he feels "all right" - With half a smile--and half a sigh! - - -SATURDAY. - - Comfort? Comfort scorned of lubbers! Hear this truth the Poet roar, - That a sorrow's crown of sorrows is remembering days on shore. - Drug his soda, lest he learn it when the Foreland gleams a spec - In the dead unhappy night, when he can't sit up on deck! - - -SUNDAY. - - Ah! you've called me nice and early, nice and early, CURRIE dear! - What? Really in? Well, come, the news I'm precious glad to hear; - For though in such good company I willingly would stay-- - I'm glad to be back in the bay, CURRIE, I'm glad to be back in the bay! - -It is now somewhat more than fifty years since a young, and comparatively -obscure writer addressed some presumptious lines to a lady of noble -family, in which he sneered at her claims of long descent, ridiculed -nobility generally, and concluded by advising her to go out amongst the -poor, to teach the children, and to feed the beggars. - -The tone of the poem was censorious and offensive; but Lady Clara Vere -de Vere, to whom it was addressed, let it pass unnoticed by, knowing -that "Everything comes to those who know how to wait," and now this last -daughter of a hundred Earls has written a good-humoured rejoinder to the -first Baron Tennyson, in which she playfully assumes her age to have -remained what it was fifty years ago:-- - - Baron Alfred T. de T., - Are we at last in sweet accord? - I learn--excuse my girlish glee-- - That you've become a noble Lord; - So now that time to think you've had - Of what it is makes charming girls, - Perhaps you find they're not so bad-- - Those daughters of a hundred earls. - - Baron Alfred T. de T., - When last your face I chanced to see, - You had the passion of your kind, - You said some horrid things to me; - And then--"we parted," you to sail - For Oshkosh, in the simple steerage, - But now--excuse my girlish glee-- - You reappear, and in the peerage! - - Baron Alfred T. de T., - Were you indeed misunderstood - That other day I heard you say, - "'Tis only noble to be good?" - I really thought you then affirmed-- - 'Tis so the words come back to me, - "Kind hearts are more than coronets, - And simple faith than Norman blood." - - Baron Alfred T. de T., - There stand twin-spectres in your hall, - And as they found you were a Lord - Two wholesome hearts were changed to gall; - The two, an humble couple they, - I think I see them, on my life, - The while they read of "Baron" T., - The grand old Adam, and his wife! - - Trust me, Baron T. de T., - From yon blue heaven above us bent, - This simple granger and his spouse - Smile as you read your long descent. - Howe'er it be, it seems to me, - Nor must you think my language cruel, - It seems--excuse my girlish glee-- - Consistency's a lovely jewel. - - Baron Alfred T. de T., - I know you're proud your name to own; - Your pride is yet no mate for mine, - My blood is bluer than your own. - Don't bid me break your heart again - For pastime, ere to town I go; - I'll not do that, my noble Lord, - But give you something that I owe. - - Baron Alfred T. de T., - When you were in that angry fit - You turned to me and thundered out, - "Go, teach the orphan girl to knit." - I am an orphan girl myself, - And that my knitting you may see, - Here is a _mitten_ that I've knit-- - Excuse my gushing, girlish glee. - - * * * * * - -Now, there was another young lady who was treated with scant courtesy by -the author of _Locksley Hall_, and she, too, has written a reply to the -love-sick ravings of the young poet:-- - - -COUSIN AMY'S VIEW. - -SCENE--_The neighbourhood of Locksley Hall._ - -_Enter_ Lady AMY HARDCASH (_ætat. forty_)_, with a book of poems and -several children_. - -LADY AMY _loquitur_. - - CHILDREN, leave me here a little; don't disturb me, I request; - For Mamma is very tired, and fain would take a little rest. - - 'Tis the place, the same old place, though looking somewhat pinched - and small. - Ah, 'tis many and many a day since last I looked on Locksley Hall! - - Then 'twas in the spring of life and love--ah, Love, the great - Has-been! - Love which, like the year's own Spring, is very nice--and very - _green!_ - - In the Spring the new French fashions come the female heart to bless, - In the Spring the very housemaid gets herself another dress; - - In the Spring we're apt to feel like children just let loose from - school; - In the Spring a young girl's fancy's very apt to play the fool. - - On the moorland, by the waters he was really _very_ nice; - There was no one else at hand, and I--forgot Mamma's advice. - - He indulged in rosy raptures, heaved the most suggestive sighs, - Said the very prettiest things about my lips and hazel eyes. - - All his talk was most poetic, all his sentiments were grand, - Though his meaning, I confess, I did not always understand. - - So that, when he popped the question, I _did_ blush and hang my head, - And,--well, I dare say the rest was pretty much as he has said. - - * * * * * - - LOCKSLEY'S famous--yes, and married, notwithstanding his fierce curse, - To a dame with lots of gold and very little taste for verse. - - Nice to be a Lion's Lady in Society, no doubt! - Not so nice to smooth his mane at home when Leo is put out. - - Talk of tantrums! Read these lines he published after--well, the jilt, - Pitching into poor Mamma, and charging me with nameless guilt! - - Dear Mamma! _I_ thought her hard--but I'm a mother now myself, - And, I know what utter nonsense is the poet's scorn of pelf. - - * * * * * - - "Woman is the lesser man!" I hold that false as it is hard. - The most womanish of creatures surely is an angry bard. - - Yet, sometimes, when, as at present, Spring is brightening all the - land, - Comes that longing for the fields, SIR RUFUS _cannot_ understand; - - Comes a ghostly sort of doubt if e'en Society can give - All, quite all, for which a _well-loved_ woman might desire to live; - - Comes a memory of his voice, a recollection of his glance, - Thoughts of things which then had power to make my maiden pulses dance; - - Comes,--but I'm extremely stupid. Well, I know if our dear FAN - Took a fancy for a poet, I should soon dismiss the man. - - Here she comes! She'll wed, I hope, rich Viscount VIVIAN ere the fall. - She ne'er had had _that_ chance, had I espoused the Lord of Locksley - Hall! - - _Punch_, June 1, 1878. - - * * * * * - -In a magazine entitled _The Train_, published in 1856, there was a poem -called _The Three Voices_, written by Mr. Lewis Carroll, who has since -become famous for his quaintly humorous works. This was a parody of the -obvious truisms, the muddled metaphor, and vague reasonings contained in -Tennyson's _Two Voices_, and Mr. Carroll has wisely inserted it in his -last collection of poems (_Rhyme? and Reason?_ Macmillan and Co.), it is -somewhat altered from its original form, and is much heightened in its -effect by the intensely comic, and ably drawn, illustrations of Mr. Arthur -B. Frost. - -Unfortunately, this clever parody is too long to quote entire, and an -extract gives but a faint idea of its terribly grotesque sorrows, and its -whimsical burlesque of the Laureate's reasoning in _The Two Voices:_-- - - THEY walked beside the wave-worn beach, - Her tongue was very apt to teach, - And now and then he did beseech, - - She would abate her dulcet tone, - Because the talk was all her own, - And he was dull as any drone. - - She urged "No cheese is made of chalk;" - And ceaseless flowed her dreary talk, - Tuned to the footfall of a walk. - - Her voice was very full and rich, - And when at length she asked him "Which?" - It mounted to its highest pitch. - - He a bewildered answer gave, - Drowned in the sullen moaning wave, - Lost in the echoes of the cave. - - She waited not for his reply, - But, with a downward leaden eye, - Went on as if he were not by. - - Then, having wholly overthrown - His views, and stripped them to the bone, - Proceeded to unfold her own. - - * * * * * - - "Shall Man be Man? And shall he miss - Of other thoughts no thoughts but this, - Harmonious dews of sober bliss? - - "What boots it? Shall his fevered eye - Through towering nothingness descry - The grisly phantom hurry by? - - "And hear dumb shrieks that fill the air; - See mouths that gape and eyes that stare, - And redden in the dusky glare? - - "Yet still before him, as he flies, - One pallid form shall ever rise, - And bodying forth in glassy eyes. - - "The vision of a vanished good, - Low peering through the tangled wood, - Shall freeze the current of his blood." - - Till, like a silent water-mill, - When summer suns have dried the rill, - She reached a full stop, and was still. - - To muse a little space did seem, - Then like the echo of a dream, - Harped back upon her threadbare theme. - - Still an attentive ear he bent, - But could not fathom what she meant: - She was not deep, nor eloquent. - - * * * * * - -But, in truth, Tennyson has never failed so signally as when he has -attempted to be metaphysical, and although his admirers have written many -essays to explain the profundity of his ideas, and the beauties of his -philosophy, their explanations seem to require some explaining, whilst it -also seems that general readers fail to discern the charm in his would-be -philosophical writings. - -The _Higher Pantheism_ may be taken as an instance. It commences thus:-- - - The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains-- - Are not these, O Soul, the vision of Him who reigns? - - Is not the vision He? tho' He be not that which he seems? - Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams? - - Dark is the world to thee; thyself art the reason why; - For is He not all but thou, that hast power to feel "I am I!" - -There are several other couplets which do not tend to unravel the poet's -tangled web of thought, whereas if we turn to _The Heptalogia_ (Chatto -and Windus, 1880), we find the whole mystery treated with much greater -lucidity of expression in _The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell_. - - ONE, who is not, we see; but one, whom we see not, is: - Surely this is not that; but that is assuredly this. - - What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under: - If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without - thunder. - - Doubt is faith in the main; but faith on the whole is doubt: - We cannot believe by proof; but could we believe without? - - Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover: - Neither are straight lines curves; yet over is under and over. - - * * * * * - - God, whom we see not, is; and God who is not, we see; - Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle we take it is dee. - -The clever little work, from which the above is an extract, was published -anonymously, but has been ascribed by the _Athenæum_, and other -authorities, to a no less distinguished poet than Mr. A. C. Swinburne. Its -full title is-- - - -SPECIMENS OF MODERN POETS. - -THE HEPTALOGIA; OR, THE SEVEN AGAINST SENSE. A CAP WITH SEVEN BELLS. - - I. The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell. - II. John Jones. - III. The Poet and the Woodlouse. - IV. The Person of the House (Idyl CCCLXVI.) - V. Last Words of a Seventh-rate Poet. - VI. Sonnet for a Picture. - VII. Nephelidia. - -All these poems display wonderful power and choice of language, with a -perfect mastery of the most difficult forms of metre, such as only a -practised poet could achieve. - - * * * * * - -_The Nineteenth Century_ for May, 1880, contained another of the -Laureate's vague rhapsodical poems, entitled _De Profundis_, of which -all the meaning was as well expressed in the following parody as in the -original:-- - - "Awfully deep, my boy, awfully deep, - From that great deep before our world begins; - Awfully deep, my boy, awfully deep, - From that true world within the world we see, - Whereof our world is but the bounding shore. - Awfully deep, my boy, awfully deep, - With this ninth moon that sends the hidden sun - Down yon dark sea, thou comest, darling boy." - -_The Princess Ida; or, Castle Adamant_, by Mr. W. S. Gilbert, which was -produced at the Savoy Theatre, on January 5th, 1884, though a humorous -adaptation of Tennyson's _Princess_, is not strictly a burlesque, and is -styled by the author "A Respectful Operatic Per-version" of the Laureate's -poem. It is altered from an earlier piece by Mr. Gilbert on the same -theme. Almost the only passage which can be considered an actual parody -of Tennyson's diction is the speech of the Princess Ida to the Neophytes, -which is modelled on the Lady Psyche's harangue in the original poem:-- - - "Women of Adamant, fair Neophytes-- - Who thirst for such instruction as we give, - Attend, while I unfold a parable. - The elephant is mightier than Man, - Yet Man subdues him. Why? The elephant - Is elephantine everywhere but here (_tapping her forehead_). - And Man, whose brain is to the elephant's, - As Woman's brain to man's--(that's rule of three) - Conquers the foolish giant of the woods, - As woman, in her turn, shall conquer Man! - In mathematics, woman leads the way-- - The narrow-minded pedant still believes - That two and two make four! Why we can prove, - We women-household drudges as we are-- - That two and two make five--or three--or seven; - Or five-and-twenty, if the case demands! - Diplomacy! The wiliest diplomate - Is absolutely helpless in our hands, - _He_ wheedles monarchs--woman wheedles him! - Logic? Why, tyrant Man himself admits - It's waste of time to argue with a woman! - Then we excel in social qualities: - Though Man professes that he holds our sex - In utter scorn, I venture to believe - He'd rather spend the day with one of you - Than with five hundred of his fellow-men! - In all things we excel! Believing this, - A hundred maidens here have sworn to place - Their feet upon his neck. If we succeed, - We'll treat him better than he treated us: - But if we fail, why then let hope fail too! - Let no one care a penny how she looks-- - Let red be worn with yellow--blue with green-- - Crimson with scarlet--violet with blue! - Let all your things misfit, and you yourselves, - At inconvenient moments come undone! - Let hair-pins lose their virtue; let the hook - Disdain the fascination of the eye-- - The bashful button modestly evade - The soft embraces of the button-hole! - Let old associations all dissolve, - Let Swan secede from Edgar--Gask from Gask-- - Sewell from Cross--Lewis from Allenby! - In other words, let Chaos come again! - -A large number of miscellaneous parodies remain to be noticed, a few of -the best will be given in full; of the remainder it will be sufficient to -indicate the works in which they occur, as they are readily accessible. - - -THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. - -Some time ago _Funny Folks_ remarked:-- - - "The Laureate ought to add a verse to his famous lay of the Six - Hundred. It seems that whenever one of the immortal brigade dies, a - couple of recruits, at least, appear and fill his place. There are - already far more living claimants to the glory of participating in - the famous charge than ever took part in it. - - "When can their glory fade, - If from the Light Brigade - When ONE is sundered, - Two will his place supply, - Ready to multiply - Still the Six Hundred?" - -And in a somewhat similar manner parodies on this famous poem seem to -start up on every hand. One, not yet mentioned, appeared in _Figaro_, -November 29, 1876. - -Another anonymous parody of the same original, called "The Charge of the -Tight Brigade," though rather smart, is too slangy in its language to be -inserted. - -The following has been sent by Mr. James Dykes Campbell, who states that -it was current in the Oxford colleges about twenty years ago. The author's -name is not known. - - -THE CHARGE OF THE GOWNSMEN. - -_A Reminiscence of the Anti-Tobacco Lecture._ - -(The Metre has been kindly lent for the occasion by the Poet Laureate). - - To the "Star," through the "Star," - Up the "Star" staircase-- - Into the Assembly Room, - Crowded the Gownsmen. - Some one cried, "Chaff the cad!" - Forward they went like mad-- - None knew exactly why-- - All wished a lark to try-- - E'en 'neath the Proctor's eye-- - Into the Assembly Room. - On went the Gownsmen. - - 'Baccy to right of them, - 'Baccy to left of them, - 'Baccy in front of them, - Densely surrounds men! - Howled at by cad and scout, - Ordered by Proctors out, - Still they pressed onwards well, - Raising a stifling smell, - Into the "Star" Hotel, - To the Assembly Room, - Hastened the Gownsmen. - - Flashed every weed alight, - Showed every gownsman fight, - Hitting to left and right, - Checking the Proctor, and - Milling the Townsmen. - Flew Academic blows, - Smashing the civic nose, - Strong was the smoke, and thick, - Making the Lect'rer sick-- - Then from the Assembly Room, - Down the stairs, down the stairs, - Bolted the Gownsmen! - - Peelers to right of them, - Proctors to left of them, - Pro.'s on the rear of them, - Mingled with Townsmen! - Out of the "Star Hotel", - Those who had smoked so well, - Thro' the Turl--through the High - Mizzled the Gownsmen! - - Still shall the tale be told, - When Private Halls are old, - How was that Lect'rer sold - By the fierce Gownsmen! - - * * * * * - -I am indebted to the courtesy of an unknown correspondent for the -following parody, which was recited by Major Wilson after a banquet -given in honor of the Anniversary of the Birth of Robert Burns, at the -Caledonian Club, Leadville, Colorado:-- - - -"THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BALLET." - - Half a leg, half a leg, - Half a leg onward, - All before the foot-lights - Danced the one hundred. - Crash went the German band. - Supes strew'd the stage with sand; - All before the foot-lights - Danced the one hundred. - - "Forward, the light ballet!" - Was there a coryphée - Who couldn't help feeling - Some one had blundered? - Turned on the calcium light, - Glittered each spangled tight, - Kicked they with main and might; - All before the foot-lights - Danced the one hundred. - - Bald heads to right of them, - Bald heads to left of them, - Bald heads in front of them - Shouted and thundered; - Cynosures of every eye, - Boldly they kicked and high, - Regardless of life and limb, - Into the very sky - Kicked the one hundred, - - Flashed all their fleshings bare, - Flashed as they turned in air, - Crazing the bald heads there, - In orchestra chair, while - All the house wondered. - On light, fantastic toe, - Pirouette and _pas de Seaux_, - Premier and coryphée - Reeled from the vertigo, - Shattered and sundered, - And then they danced back, - But not--not the one hundred. - - Bald heads to right of them, - Bald heads to left of them, - Bald heads in front of them - Shouted and thundered; - Bravoed the _dilettante_, - While each old Bonfanti, - With split raiment and scanty, - Danced back from the jaws of death, - Back from the--(see Dante), - All that was left of them, - Left of one hundred. - - When can their glory fade? - Oh, the high kicks they made! - All the house wondered. - Fling up your big bouquet, - Bald-headed Y. M. C. A.! - Honour the light ballet, - Noble one hundred! - -From _The Carbonate Chronicle_, Leadville, Colorado, January 27, 1883. - - * * * * * - - -TRAGIC EPISODE IN AN OMNIBUS. - -(Charged to the Poet Laureate.) - - _Night Scene--Last City 'bus, chock full of people. Enter--Very - stout old gentleman._ - -(Related by an eye witness.) - -I. - - Half a yard, half a yard, - Half a yard onward, - All through that narrow way, - Gasping and out of breath, yet never ponder'd! - "Right, Bill," the 'bus cad said, - "'Bout time we were in bed." - All through that narrow way - Still he strode onward. - -II. - - Though light began to fade, - Was there a man dismayed? - Not tho' each row well knew - _Some one_ had blunder'd; - Theirs not to make reply, - Theirs not to reason why, - Theirs to sit tight and try - To look stouter, broad, and high, - As _he_ came onward. - -III. - - Sneerers to right of him, - Frowners to left of him, - Scowlers in front of him, - Curses a hundred. - Words that no man could spell, - Boldly strove he and well, - All through that narrow way, - Tumbling about pell-mell, - Still on he wander'd. - -IV. - - To threats he gave no care, - Worrying the poor man there, - As standing he eyed them, while - The 'bus rolled and thundered. - Wrap't in his dark, brown cloak, - Right through that line he broke, - 'Twas then that boot and shoe - Thought it a feeble joke-- - Corns nearly sundered! - For he turned back again, - Seeing he'd blunder'd. - -V. - - Sneerers to right of him, - Frowners to left of him, - Scowlers behind him, - Curses a hundred. - Words that no man could spell, - How he got out no one can tell; - Back through that narrow way, - Back from that beastly sell, - Moaning the toil and time, - Unwittingly squandered. - -VI. - - Can his bumps be repaid? - Won't he be ever afraid - Of 'busses? I wondered! - Honour the try he made, - Honour the stones he weighed, - As he limped homeward. - -From "Cribbings from the Poets" (Jones and Piggott, Cambridge, 1883.) - - * * * * * - -On page 38 a parody entitled _The Doctor's Heavy Brigade_ was inserted, -with a note that the author's name was not known. I have been pleased to -receive the information that these clever verses were written by a Scotch -poet whose name I am not at liberty to mention, and appeared in _The -Scotsman_ about ten years ago. - -The following _apropos_ composition, which has never before been printed, -is from the same pen. - -Tennyson's original poem commences-- - - "You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease, - Within this region I subsist, - Whose spirits falter in the mist, - And languish for the purple seas?" - -And concludes-- - - "Yet waft me from the harbour-mouth, - Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky, - And I will see before I die - The Palms and Temples of the South." - - * * * * * - - -THE LAUREATE IN PARLIAMENT. - - You ask me why, though ill at ease, - I sit among those Vere de Veres, - I used to curse in former years, - Pooh-poohing all their pedigrees. - - My answer's plain as it is true, - Although of just and old renown, - My fame is flattening slowly down, - And yieldeth not its wonted due. - - This state of things I can't afford. - My dramas and my later lays - Have brought me neither pence nor praise. - And, after all, a lord's a lord - - And so I joined the upper set, - I know the seasons, when to take - Macmillan by the hand, and make - My poems fly far wider yet. - - I speak not of my works to you - Who have them--they shall further go, - The many-headed beast shall know, - That he must learn to read them too. - - Yet blame me not for pride or pelf, - I've royal blood, the heralds say, - Insisting on it, yea or nay. - (I never heard of it myself). - - And, furthermore, you ought to know - 'Twas not my doing, I was sent-- - The Premier ordered me, I went; - What man can stay when he says "Go?" - - I'd vote for some august decree - Strong as the fabled towers of Ilium, - Broad-based upon the people's William! - Do anything, he asked of me! - - Well, yes, the House _is_ dull, but still - A useful haunt, where sitting down, - (Extremely handy when in town) - A man may eat the thing he will. - - I only said, the House was dreary! - Wit cometh not, with help to keep - One's eyes awake; but I can sleep - Like others there that grow aweary! - - I hold it true whate'er befall. - That, though in bed more quiet kept, - 'Tis better to have sat and slept - Than never to have slept at all. - - But yet should faction gather head, - Till by degrees to fullness wrought, - Men speak much louder than they ought; - I'll take the train, and go to bed. - - Yes, waft me from the brainless mouth, - Wild wind! I seek a calmer sky, - And I will reach before I die - My old home island in the South! - - * * * * * - - -A DREAM OF QUEER WOMEN. - -(_With Apologies to the Poet Laureate._) - - I READ, before mine eyelids dropt their shade, - The last romance from MUDIE'S lately writ - By one who is considered--in the trade-- - The flower of female wit. - - Miss BLANK, the famous writer, whose wild way - Of fiction-weaving was the first to fill - The startled times of good VICTORIA - With ghosts which haunt them still. - - And for awhile I tumbled on my bed, - Her Art from slumber held me, as strong gales - Hold driven birds from lighting, and my head, - Chock-full of her strange tales. - - * * * * * - - Sudden I heard a voice that cried, "Come here! - I want to look at you." - - I, turning, saw, curled in an easy chair, - One sitting well wrapped up, as if from cold, - Her cheeks were peachy, and her fluffy hair - Was of the tawny gold. - - She, flashing forth a Circe smile, began: - "I murdered men for fun--it was my trade; - But, oh, 'tis long since I have slain a man. - Once, panther-like I played - - "With many husbands, and then shed their blood, - But life in this dim place is vastly slow; - I have no men to murder in my mood-- - That makes my only woe! - - "The men, my lovers, how they bowed their necks - 'Neath the neat boots wherewith my feet were shod! - I witched them, and the sturdiest of the sex - Were vassals to my nod. - - "At last the sly detective tracked me down; - I tried to coax _him_, but the brute was cold. - They found the last poor fool I tried to drown, - And for the rest--behold!" - - With that she tore her robe apart, and half - The polished ivory of her shoulders grand - Laid bare. Thereto she pointed with a laugh, - Showing the convict's brand. - - * * * * * - - From _Punch_, October 12, 1878. - - * * * * * - - -A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN AND OTHERS. - - I read, before such things had lost their spice, - _Les Jolies Femmes de Paris_--a sweet work, - Devoted to the furtherance of vice-- - A sort of Devil's _Burke_. - - A scroll of fame and frailty that includes - All Hamadryads that have ever shone, - And nymphs who sell the Satyrs, in the woods - Of Boulogne and St. John. - - And for awhile the study of those plates, - Wherein the sylvan beauties were portrayed, - Lifted my soul across the Dover straits, - Without a Boyton's aid. - - * * * * * - - Then swiftly rose another Voice, and burst: - "Aye, let them troll your ditties and applaud;-- - 'Twas I, Madame, preceded you, I first - Called poetry a fraud. - - "I was Thérésa, and I saw what 'took,' - Dropped art, dropped passion; knew you'd had enough; - The amorous _Sapeur_ cozening a cook - Was all my lay of love. - - "And court and street took up the strains in glee; - I sang to Cæsar, sang to prince and priest, - And in the palace of the Medici - Roared _Le Petit Ebeniste_." - - Then clashed the cymbals, and the bugles blew, - Vague scents swarmed o'er the visionary stage; - A soft sweet shape arose. We looked and knew - The Darling of the age. - - She spoke no word, she had no need to speak; - Who could withstand the sorceress--who compete? - We knew that matchless smile, and that unique - Allurement of the feet; - - The way so womanly, and yet so bold; - Her eyes so frank, her gestures so profane; - Her step so light--Ah! no need to be told-- - _Voici La Belle Helene_. - - Evohe, la belle Hélène, fair and fat, - And forty, though they say you are, Time's touch - Lies soft upon your plumpness--and of that, - Say, _can_ one have too much? - - Oh no, my liege, my gracious Grande Duchesse, - However variously our ways incline, - You find us all before your sweet address, - Natives of Gérolstein. - - * * * * * - -This poem proceeds to describe, at considerable length, the leading -actresses then appearing in the Paris theatres and music halls. - - From _Edward VII._, 1876. - - * * * * * - -Another parody of the same poem appeared in _The World_, July 23, 1879, -from which a few verses are quoted:-- - - -A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN. - - "DREAMING, methought I heard the Laureate's song - Of fairest women linked with deeds of shame, - Whose burning loves of insult and of wrong - Were anguish-paths to fame. - - "And for a while their sad looks haunt my dream; - Then the night-visions slowly fade away, - And fairer faces in the warm light gleam-- - The beauties of to-day. - - * * * * * - - "And around one, supreme in perfect grace, - Princes bow down, and nobles gather nigh; - And crowds afar off gaze upon her face, - Contented there to sigh. - - * * * * * - - "Then o'er my dream a daintier figure came, - Whose voice was music, and her gesture grace - The fire of genius frets her tender frame, - And lights her girlish face. - - "In foreign tones she murmurs, 'O, the bliss - Of art that triumphs on a perfect stage; - The thunders of applause, and e'en the hiss - That tells of Envy's rage!'" - - * * * * * - -A parody on the same original, entitled _A Dream of Great Players_ -(in reference to Lawn Tennis) appeared, on the 13th February, 1884, -in _Pastime_, an ably conducted journal, devoted to out-door games -and recreations. Unlike most of the sporting papers, _Pastime_ has a -distinctly literary tone, and publishes, from time to time, clever -parodies of our modern poets. Two have appeared on Tennyson's blank verse, -the first (June 29, 1883), entitled _A Fragment of the Lost Tennisiad;_ -the second, which was much longer, appeared in the number for July 27, -1883, and commenced thus:-- - - -THE LAY OF THE SEVENTH TOURNAMENT. - - All the long week Lawn-tennis balls had rolled - On the green sward beside the echoing line, - Until the last and stateliest of the crowd - Of players there competing, Donald Stewart, - Had fallen at Wimbledon before his foe, - Ernest: the last, because his skill was great, - They hailed the winner of the All-comers' prize. - And graced with large reward and honour meet. - One struggle yet remained,--Ernest with William, - Renshaw with Renshaw, must at last contend, - Equal alike in name and age,--well matched - In strength and skill,--there lightly-clad they stood, - Brother confronting brother,--and the net - Betwixt them. High above them blazed - The goblet, carved with curious imagery, - Unknown save to the initiate, but to these - Pregnant with meaning, mystic, magical, - Prize of the great Lawn-tennis championship, - Which in its deep capacious womb concealed - A thirsty man's allowance long withheld: - This twice had William gained in equal fight, - Winner of two successive tournaments; - And, could he claim the prize but once again, - 'Twere his for ever. - - Therefore hither came - From Wimbledon and Putney, and the lands - Which lie across the silver stream of Thames, - From far Tyburnia and Belgravian halls, - The strength and manhood of our lusty youth, - The grace and beauty of our matchless maids, - Clothed in rich raiment flashing on the sward - In hues that mocked the butterfly, and made - The rainbow colourless--satin and silk, - Cambric, and lawn, and muslin virginal: - Haply, there also whatsoe'er of strange - Elise, or Worth, or Harberton devise, - The wizards of adornment,--mystic shapes - Dual or indivisible,--the awed bard - Shrinks into silence. - - * * * * * - - -THE BACHELOR'S RETURN. - -_A Vere de Vere-isimilitude._ - - MRS. BIGGS, of Brunswick Square, - On me you shall no more impose. - You said I wanted change of air; - My books, my desk, you bade me close; - - You raved about my "precious 'elth." - Has conscience, Mrs. B., no twinges? - You wouldn't lose me for the wealth, - You told me "not of all the Injies." - - Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square, - Though I had work upon my hands, - I grew alarmed: oppressed with care, - I sought repose on Ramsgate sands. - Returned at last, I chanced to cast - A glance into my chiffonier. - Oh, Mrs. B., your dodge I see!-- - While I've been gone you've drunk my beer! - - Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square, - You put strange memories in my head,-- - That currant jam!--I'd almost swear - I'd half-a-dozen pots of red. - Oh, your sweet child! On him I smiled - Benignly; but it seemed to me - That he had smears across his face - Which I was hardly pleased to see. - - Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square, - You've used up all my choice Pekoe; - My sherry's gone; and where, oh where - Is that half-flask of curaçoa? - Of brandy, too, I'm quite bereft: - The bottle's dry, and--oh, my stars! - This ends what patience I had left-- - You've smoked up all my best cigars! - - Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square, - Some meeker lodger you must find; - Though good apartments may be rare, - To quit you I've made up my mind. - You held your course without remorse, - To make me trust you with my keys, - But when on you my back was turned, - You needs must play such pranks as these. - - Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick square, - If rooms be vacant on your hands, - If footsteps sound not on your stair, - And tenantless your mansion stands, - Go, teach that orphan girl you call - Eliza,--she who cleans the boots,-- - The awful fate which waits for all - Who steal their lodgers' best cheroots. - - A. P. SINNETT. - - From _Tom Hood's Comic Annual_, 1871. - - * * * * * - -A parody of the May Queen, entitled _The Premier's Lament_, appeared in -_The Evening News_, of February 18, 1884, ridiculing Mr. Gladstone for his -policy in Egypt, and foretelling defeat as probable in the then pending -vote of censure. The parody had no literary merit. - - * * * * * - - -TIT FOR TAT. - - WE were two children in one house, - She was as meek as the mildest mouse, - The time had come for a midnight spree! - When we were over our jokes and wine, - She scattered horse-hair chopped up fine. - O! the girl was fair to see! - - She laughed well-pleased with what she'd done, - She played the dreadful trick for fun. - The time had come for a midnight spree! - I lay awake! and struck a match, - For didn't the horrible horse-hair scratch. - O! the girl was fair to see! - - I made a vow! I laid a snare! - And crept quite softly up the stair, - The hour had come for a midnight spree! - And after dinner from her bed - I stole the pillow for her head. - O! the girl was fair to see! - - I took the dredger full of flour, - The pillow powdered for an hour; - The time had come for a midnight spree! - I hated her for her cruel sell, - She loved her tresses passing well. - O! the girl was fair to see! - - She slept serenely all that night, - But woke up in a dreadful fright; - The time had come for a midnight spree! - When half awake she neared the glass, - She uttered naughty words, alas! - O! the girl was fair to see! - - She brush'd and comb'd her floury head, - "I'll never get it out," she said, - The time had come for a midnight spree! - My deep revenge she'll not forget - I think she may be brushing yet! - O! the girl was fair to see! - - From _Fun_, February 1, 1868. - -The same journal also contained, December 16th, 1872, _Papa's Theory_ -(after A. Tenny..n); and, May 7, 1876, _Home They Brought the Gallant -Red_--(croquet.) - - * * * * * - -George Cruikshank's _Omnibus_, published in 1842, contains on page 260 -some pertinent remarks on Parody. "It is essential, says E. P. W., to -the full effect of a parody, that the original should be familiar to the -reader. Now, several parodies we have received possess that advantage, -thus we have half-a-dozen parodies on "Gray's Elegy," suggested by the -conflagration at the Tower, and a like number of variations of the -"Beggar's Petition;" but although these originals are well known, we pass -their parodies by in favour of one upon Tennyson's 'Mariana at the Moated -Grange,' entitled"-- - - -THE CLERK. - - With black coal-dust the walls and floor - Were thickly coated, one and all; - On rusty hinges swung the door - That open'd to the gloomy wall; - The broken chairs looked dull and dark, - Undusted was the mantel-piece, - And deeply-speck'd with spots of grease - Within the chamber of the clerk. - He only said "I'm very weary - With living in this ditch;" - He said, "I am confounded dreary, - I would that I were rich." - - * * * * * - - About six fathoms from the wall, - A blackened chimney (much askew) - Smoked in his face--and round and small - The chimney-pots destroyed his view, - Hard by--a popular highway, - With coal-dust turned to pitchy dark, - Where many a little dog doth bark-- - Some black, some mottled, many grey. - He said, "My life is very dreary, - With living in this ditch;" - He said, "I am fatigued and weary, - I would that I were rich." - -The two other verses of this parody have no great merit, and, indeed, the -above are only quoted to show that more than forty years ago there was an -outcry about the wretched habitations of our London poor. - - * * * * * - - -THE BUGLE SONG. - -[At the commencement of the Wagnerian performances at Bayreuth, the chief -_motivo_ in the opera was given out by several bugles, after which the -curtain rose.] - - The bugle calls in Bayreuth's halls - Some notes of Wagner's mythic story; - The tenor shakes, the heroine quakes, - And the wild Teuton leaps in glory. - Blow, bugles, blow, set the wild echoes flying, - Echoes of Melody, ye answer, "Dying, dying." - - O hark! O hear! how thin and clear, - With no perspiring players showing; - O sweet and far from bar to bar - The horns and trumpets faintly blowing. - Blow--let us hear composers' ghosts replying; - Blow, Wagner, blow, while Melody is dying. - - "Sweet tunes," they cry, "you shall not die, - Nor fade from hill, and field, and river, - But sweetly roll from soul to soul, - And gladden music lovers ever." - Blow, bugles, blow, set the wild echoes flying, - But Melody still answers--"Never dying." - - From _Funny Folks_. - - * * * * * - - -SONG OF THE IRWELL. - - I flow by tainted noisome spots, - A dark and deadly river; - Foul gases my forget-me-nots, - Which haunt the air for ever. - I grow, I glide, I slip, I slide, - I mock your poor endeavour; - For men may write, and men may talk, - But I reek on for ever. - - I reek with all my might and main, - Of plague and death the brewer; - With here and there a nasty drain, - And here and there a sewer. - By fetid bank, impure and rank, - I swirl a loathsome river; - For men may write, and men may talk, - But I'll reek on for ever. - - I grew, I glode, I slipped, I slode, - My pride I left behind me; - I left it in my pure abode-- - Now take me as you find me. - For black as ink, from many a sink, - I roll a poisonous river; - And men may write, and men may talk, - But I'll reek on for ever. - - And thus my vengeance, still I seek - Foul drain, and not a river; - My breath is strong, though I am weak, - Death floats on me for ever. - You still may fight, or may unite - To use your joint endeavour; - But I'll be "boss," in spite of Cross, - And poison you for ever. - - _The City Lantern_, Manchester, 1874. - - * * * * * - - -THE BAGGAGE MAN. - - WITH many a curve the trunks I pitch, - With many a shout and sally; - At station, siding, crossing, switch, - On mountain-grade or valley. - I heave, I push, I sling, I toss, - With vigorous endeavour, - And men may smile and men grow cross, - But I sling my trunks forever! - Ever! ever! - I bust the trunks for ever. - - The paper trunk from country town - I balances and dandles; - I turn it once or twice around, - And pull out both the handles, - And grumble over travelling-bags - And monstrous sample-cases; - But I can smash the maker's brags - Like plaster-Paris vases, - They holler, holler, as I go; - But they can stop me never, - For they will learn just what I know-- - A trunk won't last forever; - Ever! never! - - I tug, I jerk, I swear, I sweat, - I toss the light valises; - And what's too big to throw, you bet, - I'll fire it round in pieces. - They murmur, murmur everywhere; - But I will heed them never, - For women weep and strong men swear, - I'll sling their trunks forever! - Ever! ever! - I'll bust the trunk forever! - - From the United States _Independent_, September, 1881. - -After the defeat of Colonel Burnaby, and the Hon, A. C. Calthorpe, at the -last Birmingham election, the following parody appeared in _The Gridiron_, -a local satirical paper. - -The dashing Colonel's testimony in favour of Cockle's pills was the cause -of many jokes at his expense in the election squibs. Messrs. Stone and -Lowe were prominent members of the Birmingham Conservative party. - - "Home they brought the news with dread! - He nor swore nor uttered cry: - His committee watching said, - He must weep, or he will die. - - "Then they praised him, Stone and Lowe, - And called him worthy to be loved, - Jingo's friend and Gladstone's foe, - Yet he neither swore nor moved. - - "Rose up Calthorpe from his place, - Lightly to the warrior crept, - Made a speech all full of grace, - But he neither swore nor wept. - - "Rose a man of ninety years, - Placed a pill-box on his knee, - Like summer tempest came his tears, - "Cockle mine, thou'st done for me!" - - * * * * * - - -HARD TIMES. - -(A Parody of _The Grandmother._) - - AND so your prosperous days have passed away from you, John; - And empty have grown your pockets, and all your customers gone; - And the Government still keep talking--they never were over-wise; - Never fit to rule you, John--but you wouldn't take my advice. - - For, John, do you see, the Tories were never the men to save; - It doesn't look well to be mean while Britannia rules the wave: - Swagger enough--lots of swagger--but it all costs money, you know. - And so your grandfather found, John, some seventy years ago! - - For I remember the troubles that vexed your grandfather, John, - Stripped every rag off his back, to the very shirt he had on; - It was all for England, and glory--but that cost money, you know-- - Seventy years ago, John, seventy years ago. - - And now you say it's the same, what with Afghanistan and Zulu, - And that darned American weather come over to bother you too; - 'There won't be very much left me, if this sort of thing goes on; - And this is a time of peace--of peace with honour!' says John. - - 'And all trade seems half dead, and the farmers can't pay their rent, - While the landlords are only too happy to give them back twenty per - cent. - Farmers!--and pay no rent? Well, the rent perhaps could be borne, - But giving back twenty per cent. won't make up for American corn. - - To be sure, Lord Beaconsfield says that we're an Imperial race, - And an unscientific frontier is really a sort of disgrace; - And Stafford and Holker--I hear them too--their voices are sweet, - But they can't very well expect _me_ to get fat on American meat. - - And to tell you the good plain truth, I never can quite understand - What it is Lord Beaconsfield means, or what he's got in his hand; - He conjures eggs out of his hat, he keeps fireworks under his bed, - I really am not always certain he's not going to stand on his head. - - And the Liberals make it their text as they go to the hustings, no - doubt! - Even those who do nothing in office understand what to promise when - out; - There wouldn't be waste any more--not enough to make meat for a mouse-- - If Gladstone was at the Exchequer, and Hartington leading the House. - - Pattering upon the platform--they'll all be pattering soon, - When Beaconsfield makes up his mind to dissolve them some fine - afternoon, - I seem to be sick of it all--I know every word they'll say, - And perhaps it will come even sooner, for some are beginning to-day. - - So this is a time of peace--of peace with honour, you know; - And empty have grown my pockets--they never used to be so; - At least, not often, I think. I never was one to boast, - But I seem to be sick of it all--and of empty pockets the most.' - - Prize parody from _The World_, November 19, 1879. - - * * * * * - -The second prize parody on the same topic commenced thus:-- - - BREAD has gone up again. Was that what you said to me, - child? - Bread and coals gone up, and the weather wet and wild; - Bread gone up again, and cold and hunger severe; - An' me not knowing which way to turn, an' you but a child, - my dear. - - Don't look at me that way, Mary, with eyes that plead for - bread-- - O Lord, I could bear it well enough, if it only fell on my - head! - But the child so weak and sickly, and me but an old man now, - Asking no better, though, Lord knows, than to work in the sweat of - my brow. - - But work is not to be had, though I seek it from morning till night: - Not to be had by me; there are men who are younger, a sight; - Younger and stronger, too, who take what is to he had; - And bread has gone up and cold is sharp, and times is very bad. - - * * * * * - -At page 127 of _Snatches of Song_, by F. B. Doveton (Wyman and Sons, 1880) -will be found another long parody of the same original. - - * * * * * - - -THE SPITEFUL LETTER. - - Of course, it is here, all snarl and sneer, - A letter from my Tutor. - He said it was wrong, not to read in the "Long," - For he was far acuter. - - O little don, in the days bygone, - Did you never prefer the pages - Of those gay books--a woman's looks-- - To the lore of Eastern sages? - - Were there not times when College Rhymes - Relieved your mind dejected? - And were they not a sorry lot - Of things you had rejected? - - The time is brief from the fresh green leaf - Of the callow moderator; - From the greener leaf to the yellow leaf, - The age of perambulator. - - Silly, am I? Is that your cry? - And, I shall live to see it? - Exactly so; but yours said "No," - And mine said "Yes, so be it." - - And he would know who 'twas that so - Had filled my thoughts with folly, - And, oh! the name was the very same, - The name of our love was Molly. - - From _The Shotover Papers_, Oxford 1874. - - * * * * * - -In _Fun_ of February 1, 1868, it was asked, "Who sent _The Spiteful -Letter_ to Alfred Tennyson?" - - "If anybody _did_--and nobody doubts that it really was - somebody--everybody ought to know about it. _Fun_ has, therefore, - addressed a circular to everybody who is anybody in the round of - rhyme, putting the direct question--'Was it you, you, or you?' - Down to the latest moment answers had been received from George - Macdonald, the Poet Close, Algernon Swinburne, and Walt Whitman." - -As the two last-named parodies are the best they are quoted, although it -will be seen that they give not the slightest explanation of the origin of -_The Spiteful Letter:_-- - -FROM A.....N S......E. - - Sick of the perfume of praise, and faint with the fervid caresses, - Flushing his face with a flame that is fair, like the blood on a dove; - Weary of pangs that have pleased him, the poet refrains and confesses-- - Shrinks from the rapture of death, and the lips and the languors of - love; - The rootless rose of delight, and the love that lasts only to blossom, - Blossom and die without fruit, as the kisses that feed and not fill; - Famishing pleasure, dry-lipped, with the sting and the stain on her - bosom, - And all of a sin that is good, and all of a good that is ill! - -(This explicit language of Mr. S......E'S will, we are sure, be -satisfactory to all our readers. No explanation could make his reply -clearer and more readily intelligible.--ED. _Fun_.) - - * * * * * - - -FROM W..T W..TM..N. - -(_An American, one of the roughs, a kosmos._) - - Nature, continuous ME! - Saltness, and vigorous, never-torpid yeast of ME! - Florid, unceasing, for ever expansive; - Not schooled, not dizened, not washed and powdered; - Strait-laced not at all; far otherwise than polite; - Not modest, nor immodest; - Divinely tanned and freckled; gloriously unkempt; - Ultimate yet unceasing; capricious though determined; - Speak as thou listest, and tell the askers that which they seek to - know. - Thy speech to them will be not quite intelligible. - Never mind! utter thy wild common-places; - Yawp them loudly, shrilly; - Silence with shrill noise the lisps of the foo-foos. - Answer in precise terms of barbaric vagueness, - The question that the _Fun_ editor hath sparked through Atlantic cable - To W..T W..TM..N, the speaker of the password primeval; - The signaller of the signal of democracy; - The seer and hearer of things in general; - The poet translucent; fleshy, disorderly, sensually inclined; - Each tag and part of whom is a miracle----. - -(_Thirteen pages of MS. relating to_ MR. W..T W..TM.N _are here omitted_). - - Rhapsodically state the fact that is and is not; - That is not, being past; that is, being eternal; - If indeed it ever was, which is exactly the point in question. - -⁂ The fact, rhapsodically stated, occupies twenty-six more pages of -MS., but is left in as much doubt at the end as it was in at the -beginning.--Ed. _Fun_. - - -SONG OF THE UNSUCCESSFUL STOCK EXCHANGE SPECULATOR - -(_Apropos of certain recent failures_). - - Break, break, break! - It's a serious thing to see, - And I wish I could manage to utter - The cheques that are forged by me! - - Oh well for the bill-broking cad - That is able to toddle away! - Oh well for the discounting lad - That goes to no Botany Bay! - - The detective police go on, - To find him whose name's on the bill-- - And it's oh for a whiff of Havannah brand, - And a glass of the wine that is still! - - Break, break, break! - It's little of me you will see; - For the tender touch of detective's hand - May some day be felt by me. - - From _Faust and 'Phisto_, 1876. - - * * * * * - -_Tithonus_ was the subject of two long prize parodies, concerning Lord -Beaconsfield, which appeared in _The World_, July 30, 1879. - -The opening stanzas of the first parody are now of almost historical -interest:-- - - AH me! the times decay, and rent-rolls fall, - The farmers weep the burden of moist ground, - The men that back the field are out of luck. - For during such a summer where's the coin? - For me a wreath, prize of verbosity - Was made: it withers still in Tracy's hands. - For what to me this quiet Western world, - While shadows flit before me, like a dream - Of princely visits to the far-off East, - And costly gifts, and Empire's badges worn? - Alas for these gray tresses, once so black, - When, glorious in my youth, I was thy choice, - Britannia, and I seemed no vulgar clod - To thee, who taught'st me my verbosity. - Then, though the dull roughs met where'er they would, - Beat the Park palings down, and marred the flowers, - They could not end my rule; but left me still - To sit 'neath shade of thy Imperial shield-- - Imperial locks beside Imperial shield-- - Though all things else were ashes. Thy rich gift, - The Garter, made amends; but, Tracy, go; - I pray thee go; take back thy vulgar gift: - Why should the honest working man desire - To vary from the spendthrift race of men, - And part with hard-earned quarts of "fourpenny," - Which good Sir Wilfrid calls the curse of all? - - * * * * * - -In the _The Shotover Papers_, page 181, will be found, _Tithonus in -Oxford_. - - "The men come up, the men come up, go down. - The mighty Proctor prowls along the streets. - Dons come and plough the men, and let them through, - The unattached at length becomes B.A. - The only envious moderators - Will never pass. I linger through the terms - Here in the quiet Tavern's classic shades, - A bearded undergraduate, well nigh bald, - Roaming along the High, the Broad, the Corn, - Amidst new men, strange faces, other minds." - - * * * * * - - -THE LAWYER'S SOLILOQUY. - - "I hold it clear, as one who sings - The party song in divers tones, - That men may rise on stepping stones - Of brazen speech to higher things." - -This is the first of sixteen verses contained in the _St. James's -Gazette_, of June 18, 1881. - - * * * * * - - -A TENNYSONIAN LYRIC. - - I hold this truth with one who sings - That when a donkey will not go, - The kick, the curse, the brutal blow - Should be exchanged for milder things. - - But who that sees the donkey's ears - Droop downward, and his hind legs rise, - While from the creature's back he flies, - Can spare the lissom switch he bears? - - Or who can smile when crowds condemn, - And ragamuffin imps deride, - Advising him to "get inside" - That product of Jerusalem? - - Had I the brute that would not stir, - Despite "Gee-woa!" or "Kim-up, Ned!" - I should, methinks, use arts instead - Of supplemented provender. - - From _Funny Folks_. - - * * * * * - -_Funny Folks_ for January 23, 1875, contained a parody, in ten verses, on -_The Voyage;_ the first and last verse only are given, as the rest are of -little interest:-- - - -THE EXCURSION TRAIN. - - We left behind the painted buoy - That tosses at the harbour mouth; - And madly danced our hearts with joy - As fast we floated to the South. - - -THE VOYAGE. - - "We left behind the painted boy - Who tumbles at the gutter's mouth, - And madly leaped our hearts for joy - In taking tickets for the south; - To get away from smell and sound, - And crowded street and city roar, - Two used-up clerks on pleasure bound, - Ere yet our holidays were o'er. - - * * * * * - - And never tongue of ours was furled, - As on we went with spirits free; - The railway was our little world, - Though not a little whirled were we. - The winds and rain might blow and cease-- - What cared we for wind or rain? - We'd paid our one pound ten apiece, - And this was our Excursion Train! - - * * * * * - -The following is an extract from a parody on _The Lotus Eaters_. It was -written by Captain Barlow, and obtained the second prize offered by the -Editor of _The World_, in which paper it appeared in September, 1879:-- - - -THE MINISTERS AT GREENWICH. - - "GREENWICH," they said, and pointed into space; - "The steaming train will bear us thither soon," - In time for dinner came they to that place, - In which it seemèd always dinner-time. - A place of diners: some with friend or fair, - Slow dropping down the stream, to feast did go; - And those by quicker train did there repair - Who deemed all other locomotion slow, - Nor cared to watch the muddy river's flow. - - The sky looked showery, as is oft the case - Now, when no two days ever seem the same; - But yet, despite of Nature's frowning face, - To dine the whitebait-eating members came. - Baskets they saw of that delightful fish - Whose flavour is seductive, and doth make - Those who have tasted say that never dish - Was so delicious, and when they partake - Of these, all other food they straight forsake. - - Then some one said, "Why further should we pace?" - And all at once they sang, "This is the place - To spend a happy day. Rest we a little space. - Refreshing is this liquor dry, - Iced well as well can be;" - - Drink is "the best of life." Then why - Abstain teetotally? - * * * * - - * * * * * - - -THE AMIABLE DUN. - -_A Fragment._ - -(After Tennyson.) - - At breakfast time he comes and stands, - He puts his paper in your hands, - He hums and haws, with "ifs" and "ands." - - His hands he laves with unseen soaps, - Thanks you for nothing, says he hopes, - Then bows, "Good morning, sir;" he slopes. - - From _Odd Echoes from Oxford_, 1872. - -A parody of the "Lord of Burleigh" appeared in _Figaro_, January 22, 1873, -and one entitled "A Welcome to Alexandra (Palace)" in _Funny Folks_, May -18, 1875. - -The Poet Laureate has recently contributed a poem, entitled _Early -Spring_, to an American paper. It consisted of eight verses, and the fee -paid the writer was said to be 1,000 dollars. - -Taking the following as a fair example of the rest, it would seem that 125 -dollars per verse was a very liberal remuneration:-- - - Opens a door in Heaven; - From skies of glass - A Jacob's ladder falls - On greening grass, - And o'er the mountain-walls - Young angels pass. - - * * * * * - -Has the Poet no friends about him who can point out that by the -publication of such painfully weak effusions, the once great reputation -of Tennyson is being surely, if slowly, undermined; and that the rising -generation will be little encouraged, by such specimens of his genius, -to read his early works. It is well known that the Poet Laureate is -exceedingly vain of his writings, and does not hesitate to place them on -a par with those of Milton; this is a point we may leave to posterity to -decide, but it seems most improbable that even the finest works of the -laurelled, pensioned, titled bard of our days, will ever be considered -worthy of a place by the side of the glorious and imperishable poems of -the stern old puritan. - -As parodies of Tennyson's poems are constantly being produced, a -supplementary collection of them will be published separately at some -future date. - - * * * * * - - -MR. CHARLES STEWART CALVERLEY. - -The death of "C. S. C." will be heard of with regret by all who enjoy the -lighter forms of English poetry, such as are to be found to perfection -in his two little volumes, entitled "Fly Leaves" and "Verses and -Translations," published by Messrs. G. Bell and Sons. - -Mr. Calverley had an extraordinary ear for rhythm, and could imitate, at -will, the measure and metre of any poet. Taking some comically trifling -topic, he could so write it up as to reproduce not only the style, but -even the very mode of thought of his original. Thus, in his poem, "The -Cock and the Bull," he has caught far more of Robert Browning than the -mere verbal eccentricities; "Wanderers" contains the very best of all -parodies of Tennyson's "Brook" (quoted on page 30); Matthew Arnold is -well imitated in "Thoughts at a Railway Station;" whilst the "Ode to -Tobacco" reads like a continuation of Longfellow's "Skeleton in Armour." -For _refined parody_, as distinguished from mere verbal burlesque, Mr. -Calverley was unapproached, and no collection of humorous English poetry -would be complete, which did not include several of his best pieces. -His humour was ever genial and pleasant, without a tinge of malice or -ill-will, and even those whom he so deftly parodied could have taken -no offence at his clever banter. Mr. Calverley was also a considerable -scholar, as his translations testify, and he left at Oxford (where he -studied before going to Cambridge) a considerable reputation as a wit and -conversationalist. - - * * * * * - - - - -H. W. Longfellow. - - -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born at Portland, Maine, on February 27, -1807, and died on the 24th March, 1882, having thus just completed his -75th year. After graduating at the age of eighteen at Bowdoin College, -he entered the office of his father to study the law. Soon afterwards, -however, he left America for Europe, where he travelled for three years -and a half, in order to qualify himself for a professorship of modern -language, which had been offered to him in the college where he had -received his education. A few years later he was appointed to a similar -position in Harvard College. In order to become acquainted with the -literature and language of Northern Europe he again left America and -travelled in Scandinavia, Germany, and Switzerland, entering upon his new -duties in 1836. Mr. Longfellow commenced his career as an author while yet -he was an undergraduate, and continued to write almost to the last. A mere -list of his works would occupy considerable space. They are thoroughly -well known wherever our language is spoken, and have obtained in this -country a popularity second to that of no English writer. The Universities -of Oxford and Cambridge both conferred degrees upon Mr. Longfellow, and -he was also elected a member of the Russian Academy of Science and of the -Spanish Academy. - -The following are the poems which have been most frequently selected as -the models for Parodies:--A Psalm of Life; Beware!; Evangeline; The Song -of Hiawatha; The Village Blacksmith; Excelsior; Curfew; The Bridge; and -several parts of the Saga of King Olaf. - - -A PSALM OF LIFE ASSURANCE. - - Tell me not in mournful numbers, - Life Assurance is a dream, - And that while the public slumbers, - Figures are not what they seem! - - Really, I am quite in earnest! - So would you be. Here's a goal! - Come let's have enquiry sternest. - It's too bad, upon my soul. - - Here's a set of fellows borrow - Money that they can't repay, - Then buy up, till each to-morrow - Finds them deeper than to-day. - - Thus my claim they'll fail in meeting, - Though they've taken all I gave! - They, not muffled drums, want beating - Soundly till they look quite grave. - - Talk of board rooms' tittle tattle! - Stuff! I have insured my life. - I'm not dumb, like driven cattle! - And I'll make a precious strife! - - Trust the Future? Come, that's pleasant! - Wait until I'm buried--dead? - No, I'll make a row at present. - On official toes I'll tread! - - And directors think to blind us! - Humbug us just for a time. - Till we go to leave behind us - Nothing? Why, the thing's sublime! - - Nothing! Do they think another - Will insure, like me, in vain! - No! the outcry they'll not smother, - Nor catch shipwrecked dupes again! - - Let us, then, be up and doing, - Never mind what be our fate, - Each director still pursuing, - Shouting out "Investigate!" - - From _The Tomahawk_, September 11, 1869. - - * * * * * - - -THE PSALM OF FICTION. - - Tell us not in mournful "numbers" - Life is all a ghastly dream! - Such as those we have in slumbers - When the nightmare makes us scream. - - Life is dark enough in earnest - Without bringing in the gaol, - Only readers of the sternest - Like their heroines out on bail. - - Not to swindle, or to borrow - Is the reputable way; - Not to marry, and to-morrow - Kill your bride, and run away. - - Arson's wrong, and poisoning dreary, - And our hearts, though pretty brave - Now and then get rather weary - Of the gallows, and the grave. - - In the great domestic battle, - In the matrimonial strife, - Be not like those Mormon "Cattle," - Give your hero but one wife. - - _Wives and Daughters_ should remind you - There are women without crime; - Draw them and you'll leave behind you - Fictions that may weather time. - - Fictions free from that Inspector, - Who is sent by Richard Mayne, - And finds footmarks that affect a - Solemn butler in the lane. - - Let us, then, have no more trials, - No more tampering with wills, - Leave the poisons in the phials - And the money in the tills. - - * * * * * - - -MISS M. TO MR. GREEN. - -_A Mournful Ditty._ - - Tell me not that I am pretty-- - Really don't, now, Mr. Green; - I'm the last to think it's witty - Not to name things as they seem. - - Yes; I know my hair is curly, - Blacker than the blackest sloe; - And I know that you'll be surly - With the candour I thus show. - - That my eyes with fire are glancing - I'll admit if that you say: - Yet I think that you're romancing - When you swear they're bright as day. - - Then my teeth you state are pearl, - Purer than the driven snow; - And to touch my lips you'd dare all - Dangers from an earthly foe. - - Please don't be so very minute - When my beauties you describe, - As, perhaps, your flimsy tribute - May appear to be a bribe. - - To secure my young affections - To your nasty little self, - And to banish all reflections - That you seek not me but pelf. - - Now, if you'd be bright and happy, - Try and don't be what you seem-- - A wretched, lazy, selfish chappy: - There--you have it, Mr. Green. - - _The Modern Athenian._ - - * * * * * - - -BACHELOR'S LIFE. - - "I will tell in measured numbers, - That our life is not a dream; - That the earth we don't encumber; - That we are not what we seem. - - "Man is real--we are earnest; - Eve, thy birth is not a fib; - Of man thou art, to him returnest; - We each are looking for his rib. - - "No selfishness, not pleasure, - Is our only aim below; - Or to win wealth and treasure, - The only bliss we wish to know. - - "Life is short, time is fleeting, - We should hurry, up and do - That which brings a parent's greeting, - That which settles us below. - - "Bring us aid through life to battle - Who'll gird her hero in the strife; - No longer be mere straying cattle, - Find a tender, loving wife, - - "Beware the future, howe'er pleasant - Our fondest dream of it may be; - Our freedom, liberty, past and present, - Our pleasures we may cease to see. - - "Do not married men remind us, - We, though erring, yet have time, - To amend and leave behind us - Names unsullied by the crime. - - "A crime the ladies all declare, - Being single through life's rapid run; - No victim to their wedded care, - Bent on freedom, pleasure, fun. - - "Let us then be up and doing, - With a heart for any fate; - Still in honour's track pursuing, - Find a partner, though its late." - - From _Notes and Queries_, August 31, 1872. - -The following appeared in the _Seattle Intelligencer_ (a Washington -Territory newspaper), of December 4, 1871:-- - - -THE MAIDEN'S DREAM OF LIFE. - - "Tell us not, in idle jingle, - 'Marriage is an empty dream!' - For the girl is dead that's single, - And things are not what they seem. - - "Life is real! life is earnest! - Single blessedness a fib; - Man thou art, to man returnest, - Has been spoken of the rib. - - "Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, - Is our destined end or way; - But to act that each to-morrow - Finds us nearer marriage-day. - - "Life is long, and youth is fleeting, - And our hearts are light and gay; - Still like pleasant drums are beating - Wedding marches all the day. - - "In the world's broad field of battle, - In the bivouac of life, - Be not like dumb-driven cattle! - Be a heroine--a wife! - - "Trust no future, howe'er pleasant; - Let the dead past bury its dead; - Act--act in the living present, - Hoping for a spouse ahead. - - "Lives of married folk remind us - We can live our lives as well, - And departing leave behind us - Such examples as will 'tell'; - - "Such examples that another, - Wasting time in idle sport, - A forlorn, unmarried brother, - Seeing shall take heart and court. - - "Let us, then, be up and doing, - With a heart on triumph set; - Still contriving, still pursuing, - And each one a husband get." - - * * * * * - - -ON CAMPBELL'S "_Lives of the Chancellors_." - - Lives of great men misinform us - Campbell's _Lives_ in this sublime, - Errors frightfully enormous, - _Misprints_ on the sands of time. - -The interest which is taken in this collection by many of the subscribers -is shewn by their kind permission to quote Parodies from their works; by -the information they have sent as to out-of-the-way books in which others -may be found; and, further, by their contribution of original Parodies. - -The author of the following introduction to this series, is well known for -his charming pathetic poems. From the first he has rendered most valuable -assistance; having formed a large collection of Parodies, he has kindly -placed them at the Editor's disposal, and they will be inserted under the -respective authors to whom they apply. - - -THE MONTHLY PARODIES. - -AN APOLOGY. - -_After William Morris's "Earthly Paradise."_ (_Written expressly for this -collection._) - - Of Love or War this is no hour to sing, - But I may ease the burden of your fears - (Lest you think death to mirth is happening), - And quote from wit of past and present years, - Till o'er these pages you forget your tears, - And smile again, as presently you say - Some idle jingle--or forgotten lay. - - But when a-weary of the hunt for mirth - Thro' comic journals with a doleful sigh - You feel unkindly unto all the earth, - And grudge the pennies that they cost to buy - These "weakly comics," lingering like to die, - Remember, then, a little while, I pray, - The clever singers of a former day. - - The pomp and power and grand majestic air - That marches thro' their poems' stately tread, - These idle verses may catch unaware, - And by burlesque call back remembered - Some rhymes "that living not can ne'er be dead," - Though what is meant by that I cannot say-- - But Mr. Morris wrote it one fine day. - - Here grouped are strains of parody in rhyme, - Now classified and placed in order straight, - Let it suffice it for the present time - That some be old, while some are born but late, - A careful choice, from all the crowd that wait, - Of those that in forgotten serials stay, - Or are, in passing journals, tossed away. - - Folks say a wizard to a common King, - One April-tide such wondrous jest did show - That in a mirror men beheld each thing, - Like, yet unlike, and saw the pale nose glow, - While rosy face looked white as fallen snow, - Each visage altered in such comic way - That those who came to court, remain'd to play. - - So with these many Parodies it is, - If you will read aright and carefully, - Not scathing satire, nor malicious hiss - For lack of beauty in the themes to see, - Nor jeerings coarse, at what men prize, as we - But jest to make some little changeling play - Its pranks in classic robes, all crowned with bay. - - J. W. GLEESON WHITE, - CHRISTCHURCH. - - _March_, 1884. - - * * * * * - -On the 1st March, 1884, a bust of Longfellow (by Mr. T. Brock, A.R.A.) was -unveiled in Poet's Corner, Westminster Abbey. It is placed between the -graves of Dryden and Cowley, and bears this inscription:-- - - -LONGFELLOW. - - "This bust was placed among the memorials of the poets of England by - the English admirers of an American poet, 1884." - -and on the sides are the dates-- - - "Born at Portland, U.S.A., February 27, 1807. - Died at Cambridge, U.S.A., March 24, 1882." - -Mr. J. Russell Lowell was present at the ceremony, and gave an address, in -which he stated that-- - - "Longfellow's mind always moved straight towards its object, was - always permeated with the emotions, and gave them the frankest, - the sincerest, and, at the same time, the most simple expression; - and never was there a private character more answerable to public - performance than that of Longfellow. His nature was consecrated - ground, into which no unclean spirit could ever enter." - -This tribute to his memory, paid by one who had known him for nearly forty -years, sufficiently explains the reason why, in the parodies of his works -which are now to be given, nothing of a personal nature will be inserted. -Indeed it is doubtful whether one unkindly worded, or spiteful burlesque -was ever penned about either Longfellow, or his works. The absence of -this element will be all the more noticeable as following directly after -the parodies of the Poet Laureate, whose actions and writings have -invited so many attacks. Tennyson's early sneers at hereditary nobility, -as contrasted with his adulation of royalty, and the exaggerated praise -of princes in his official poems of later years. His involved, and -often obscure, mode of writing, especially when attempting to deal with -metaphysical topics; his narrow insular prejudices; his frequent writings -in praise of war, and calling aloud for the blood of either the French, or -the Russians, or the Spaniards. And, lastly, his acceptance of a coronet -which sits grotesquely enough on the laurels he so long has worn as Poet -Laureate. - -In all this there was ample room for adverse comment, which the life and -works of Longfellow never afforded. The tenderness, the grace, the sweet -pathos, and the exquisite simplicity of his poems, combined with the -purity, charity, and kindness of his personal character, were such that -detraction, envy, and malice were dumb, and criticism itself was almost -silenced. - -Hence the parodies will be found to consist principally of imitations -of his style, language, or ideas, or of reproductions of his poems in a -grotesque form. In some cases a few verses of the original are given for -the convenience of comparison with the parodies. - - -A NOBLE AMBITION. - - Tell me not in mournful numbers, - Life's one long unending bill-- - Debts unpaid disturb your slumbers-- - Tin _will_ fly, do what you will. - - Meat is high in real good earnest, - Far above the hungry soul; - Dust thou art, to dust returns, is - Very typical of coal. - - In the weekly market battle, - For the cheapest things and best, - Be not like dumb-driven cattle, - Stand out bravely, all the rest. - - Not enjoyment, hardly sorrow, - Feel we, when small debts we pay; - Still, we know that each to-morrow - Finds them larger than to-day. - - Duns are hard, and time is fleeting, - Bills are sadly in arrears, - And our hearts, tho' brave, stop beating - At the aspect of affairs. - - Bailiffs are not very pleasant, - Lock your door and keep the key; - Act, act in the living present-- - Leave your country, cross the sea. - - Lives of great men, too, remind us, - Big debts sometimes clogged _their_ feet; - And, like them, we leave behind us - Some few bills we cannot meet-- - - Bills that make you try to smother, - As you cross the stormy main, - Thoughts of love, and home, and mother, - Listening for your step in vain. - - Let us then be up and doing - With an eye to making tin, - Any likely trade pursuing, - Learn to gain your end and win. - - From _The Figaro_, December 3, 1873. - - * * * * * - - -THE LIBERAL PSALM OF LIFE. - - Tell us not in mournful numbers - Liberal union is a dream: - Bright is cranky, Bob Lowe slumbers; - Yet things are not what they seem. - - Opposition must be earnest, - Or we shall not win the goal; - If for Gladstone still thou yearnest, - Thou art a weak-minded soul. - - Ministerial slips to follow - Is our destined end and way, - So that we may throw each morrow - Stumbling blocks in Dizzy's way. - - Dizzy's strong, but fame is fleeting; - Conservatism, now so brave, - In the Bills which we are greeting, - Yet may find an early grave. - - Trust no Forster, howe'er pleasant, - Let past premiers bury their dead; - Act with Hartington at present, - Nor the coming session dread. - - Hansard's pages all remind us - We have but to bide our time; - Dizzy some fine day may find us - In majority sublime. - - Gladstone's gone, but till another, - Like him takes the helm again, - Let us help our leader, brother, - Hartington with might and main. - - Let us then be up and doing, - Meeting Dizzy in debate, - Tory tactics still pursuing, - Find a policy--and wait! - -From _Funny Folks_, February 27, 1875, when the Conservative party, led -by Mr. Disraeli, was in power, and the Liberal Opposition was led by Lord -Hartington. - - * * * * * - - -A PSALM OF LIFE AT SIXTY. - -_What the Heart of the Old Man said to the Genial Gusher at Christmas -Time._ - - Tell me not in Christmas Numbers - Life is but a _gourmet's_ dream! - Sure your sense is dead or slumbers: - Peptics are not what they seem. - - Life is serious! Life is solemn! - And good grub is not its goal: - _Menu_-making by the column - Helps not the dyspeptic soul. - - Not delight from cates to borrow - Is the aim of prudent will, - But to eat so that to-morrow - Finds us not exceeding ill. - - Feeds are long and health is fleeting; - And old stomachs once so strong, - Find that indiscriminate eating - Very quickly puts them wrong. - - In the banquet's dainty battle, - At the table's toothsome strife, - Feed not like dumb hungry cattle, - Wield a cautious fork and knife! - - Trust no _menu_, howe'er pleasant; - Night-mare-Nemesis is dread; - Swig and swallow like a peasant, - You'll repent it when in bed! - - Memories of big feeds remind us - Christmas pudding peace can slay; - Touch it, and next morn shall find us - Indigestion's helpless prey. - - Pudding that perhaps another, - Light of heart and bright of brain, - Some strong-stomached younger brother, - Eating, sends his plate again. - - Let us then beware high feeding, - Or the love of luscious cate, - Still abstaining, ne'er exceeding, - Learn to dodge dyspeptic fate! - - From _Punch_, December 27, 1879. - - * * * * * - - Lives of wealthy men remind us - That by using Printer's ink, - We can die and leave behind us - Monstrous piles of golden "chink." - - * * * * * - - -TO MY SCOUT AT BREAKFAST. - - Don't tell me in cheerful numbers - That the jug is full of cream! - For the milkman's conscience slumbers, - And things are not what they seem! - - _Odd Echoes from Oxford_, 1872. - - * * * * * - - -A FRAGMENT. - - Wives of great men all remind us - We may make our wives sublime - By departing--leave behind us - Widows in the "weeds" of time. - - Widows that perchance some other - Sailing o'er life's solemn main - Some forlorn rejected brother, - May take heart, and "splice" again. - - * * * * * - - -BEWARE! - -(_From the German._) - - I know a maiden fair to see, - Take care! - She can both false and friendly be, - Beware! beware! - Trust her not. - She is fooling thee! - - She has two eyes, so soft and brown, - Take care! - She gives a side glance and looks down, - Beware! beware! - Trust her not, - She is fooling thee! - - LONGFELLOW. - - -"TAKE CARE." - - Have you a wife with real estate? - Take care! - She can "devise, and alienate," - Beware! Beware! - She has got - The whip hand of thee! - - Too promptly she may take her cue, - Beware! - And learn she has the "power to sue," - Take care! Take care! - Thwart her not, - She'll be down on thee! - - Her three per cents are but a snare, - Take care! - She "holds" as if _femme sole_ she were, - Beware! Beware! - Has she not - The whip hand of thee? - - You, Darby, who could sponge on Joan, - Take care! - Henceforth her earrings are her own, - Beware! Beware! - Touch them not, - She'll be down on thee! - - If this new law be put in force, - Take care! - Lest th' old mare prove the better horse, - Beware! Beware! - Marry not, - There's a hint for thee! - - From _The Tomahawk_. - - * * * * * - - -BEWARE! - - I know a rink that's fair to see, - Take care! - It can both kind and cruel be, - Beware! Beware! - Trust it not, - It will injure thee! - - It has two skates to lend to you, - Take care! - With wheels that oft want oiling too, - Beware! Beware! - Trust it not, - It will injure thee! - - It has a surface smooth as glass, - Take care! - For you can't see what will come to pass, - Beware! Beware! - Trust it not, - It will injure thee. - - It shows your wondrous grace and skill, - Take care! - But naught it says about a spill, - Beware! Beware! - Trust it not, - It will injure thee! - - It tells you much of pleasure there, - Take care! - 'Tis a delusion and a snare, - Beware! Beware! - Trust it not, - It will injure thee!" - - _Idyls of the Rink_, 1876. - - * * * * * - - -BEWARE! - -(_Dedicated to Lord Salisbury._) - - I know a statesman fair to hear; - Take care! - He can make worst the best appear; - His "little game" is very clear. - Beware! Beware! - Trust him not--he is one to fear. - - He has a conscience--_he says so;_ - Take care! - He knows how far to let it go - (We had a _Treaty_ once, you know). - Beware! Beware! - Trust him not, though it _may_ be so. - - He gives thee a mode of trading "fair;" - Take care! - It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear! - A "card" for him, for thee a snare. - Beware! Beware! - Trust him not, though it sounds so rare. - - He has one face, and some say _two;_ - Take care! - And what he says it is not true, - He would do good, but not to _you_. - Beware! Beware! - Trust him not, or you will rue. - - _Grins and Groans_, 1882. - - * * * * * - - -THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. - - Under a spreading chestnut tree - The village smithy stands; - The smith, a mighty man is he, - With large and sinewy hands; - And the muscles of his brawny arms - Are strong as iron bands. - - * * * * * - - Week in, week out, from morn till night, - You can hear his bellows blow, - You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, - With measured beat and slow, - Like a sexton ringing the village bell, - When the evening sun is low. - - * * * * * - - LONGFELLOW. - - * * * * * - - -THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH AS HE IS. - - Under the spreading chestnut tree - The village blacksmith stands, - The smith an awful cad is he - With very dirty hands. - For keepers and the rural police - He doesn't care a hang. - He swears, and fights, and whops his wife, - Gets drunk whene'er he can; - In point of fact, our village smith's - A very awful man. - - He goes on Sundays to the pub' - With other festive boys, - When drinking beer and goes of rum - His precious time employs. - Till he gets drunk, and going home - He makes no end of noise, - Then, with his poor half-starving wife - He in a passion flies. - He pulls her by the hair, from off - The bed on which she lies, - And kicks her round the room, and says - Bad things about her eyes. - - Smoking, soaking, bullying, - Onward through life he goes, - Each morning sees a blackened eye - Or else a broken nose. - I fear within the County Gaol - Calcraft his life will close; - Thanks, thanks to thee, thou black blacksmith - For the lesson thou hast taught. - By Calcraft, or his deputy - I never will be caught, - And to that end I'll never do - The thing I hadn't ought. - - From _Figaro Programme_, February 6, 1873. - - * * * * * - - -THE NIGHT POLICEMAN. - -(_Not by Henry W. Longfellow._) - - Beside a noisy tavern door - The night policeman stands, - And a foaming pot of half-and-half, - He clutches with eager hands; - But little doth our Robert know - He is watched by thievish bands. - - His voice is thick, his speech too strong - For any sober man; - His brow is wet with his tall helmet, - He drinks whene'er he can; - But the merry prig laughs in his face, - He arrests not any man. - - Through the dark night to the broad daylight - You can hear him tramp below, - Until the serjeant hath passed, and then - He soon doth leave his beat to go - To visit a sprightly area belle, - When the evening star is low. - - When the burglar, fixing a handy tool, - Breaks in through the bolted door, - And quickly pockets the notes and gold, - And the glittering jewelled store store-- - Hearing the laugh, as he gaily flies, - Come from the kitchen floor. - - When Robert makes report next morn - Of nought but naughty boys, - Householders angrily impeach. - He hears the inspector's voice; - And he knows that his stately form no more - Will make the cook rejoice. - - It sounds to him like a warning voice: - Farewell to rabbit pies, - And juicy ham and nourishing stout, - And the pickles he doth prize. - And with his worsted glove he wipes - A tear from out his eyes. - - Shuffling, lying, sorrowing, - He takes off his dark blue clothes-- - Lantern, truncheon, and helmet too, - With his cape he sadly throws. - Burglaries attempted! Burglaries done! - Out of the force he goes. - - From _Funny Folks_, May 22, 1875. - - * * * * * - - -THE VILLAGE GROG SHOP. - - Under a spreading chestnut tree - The village grog shop stands; - The host a thirsty man is he, - With large and bloated hands; - And the vessels of his beery charms - Are bright in pewter bands. - - His tap is "Watney," "Meux," and "Long," - And bitter as the tan; - His till is fill'd with ready coin, - He cheats whene'er he can, - He looks the whole "Bench" in the face, - And he trusts not any man. - - Week in, week out, from morn till night, - You can hear the liquor flow; - And after hours the bobby's tread, - With measured beat and slow, - Like a convict working the cheerful mill - When his morals have been low. - - And maidens, not long freed from school, - Jot down th' increasing score, - They love to see the lab'rers gorge, - And hear the rustics roar, - And catch th' attempted wits--so "fly," - With chaff--from a sawdust floor. - - He goes in Sessions 'fore the Bench, - And sits among the crowd; - He hears the "unpaid" jaw and preach, - He hears his counsel's voice - Pleading with legalic fire; - And licensed, has his choice. - - It makes him think of the Three per Cents. - Wherein his money lies! - He needs must think of her once more - How in the bar she plies, - And with his hard rough hands he lifts - His beer-mug to the skies. - - Spoiling--adult'ring--borrowing, - Onward through life he goes; - Each morning sees some cask begun, - Each evening sees its close; - Somebody tempted, something won, - Has earned the pub's repose." - - _Mirth_, March, 1878. F. H. S. - - * * * * * - - -THE ENGLISH JUDGE. - -(_As sung by Dr. E. V. Kenealy_). - - Under the carved-oak canopy - Our ermined Justice sits; - The Judge, a mighty man is he, - With large and varied wits; - And nobly to his land and Queen - His duty he acquits. - - His wig is crisp, and gray, and full, - And if his face you scan, - 'Tis furrow'd deep with lines of thought; - 'Twere hard his brow to span. - And he looks the whole world in the face, - For he fears not any man. - - Term in, term out, from ten till four, - You can hear his accents clear; - You can hear him crush deceit and fraud - With authority severe, - But the innocent and helpless one - Has naught from him to fear. - - And strangers "doing" London sights - Look in at the swinging door; - They love to see his massive form, - And to hear his legal lore, - And to catch the pearls of thought that drop - From his copious mental store. - - At four for home he leaves the bench, - And 'midst his books and notes - His leisure far into the night - To "cases" he devotes. - Nor counts his nights and mornings lost, - If justice he promotes. - - With patient care he extricates - The tangled legal skein; - Whilst barristers and clients sleep, - Re-links the broken chain, - And ere the hour of ten has come - Is at his post again. - - Toiling, re-searching, circuiting, - Onward through life he goes; - Each morning sees new work begun, - But not each night its close; - And not till Long Vacation comes - Can he expect repose. - - Thanks, thanks! then, to the English Judge - For the lessons he has taught! - For a life so earnest and so pure, - With good example fraught. - And may we all learn this from him,-- - How duty should be wrought. - - _Truth Christmas Number_, 1879. - - * * * * * - - -THE VILLAGE BEAUTY. - - Under a spreading Gainsborough hat - The village beauty stands, - A maiden very fair to see, - With tiny feet and hands, - As stately, too, as if she owned - The squire's house and lands. - - Her hair is golden brown and long, - Her brow is like the snow, - Her cheeks are like the rosy flush - Left by the sunset's glow, - She greets the lads with a careless look, - She's the village belle, you know. - - Week in, week out, at morn and night, - The young miller comes each day; - "'Tis the nearest way to town," he says, - But 'tis rather out of his way, - And every night he seems to have - Plenty of time to stay! - - And children, coming home from school - Look in at the door, and know - That the handsome fellow by her side - Is pretty Nellie's beau, - Who can hardly tear himself away, - When he finds 'tis time to go. - - He goes on Sundays to the Church, - And sits in his proper pew, - But his eyes wander off to the transept near, - Where he sees a charming view, - For Nellie sits there, in her Sunday best, - With her bonnet of palest blue. - - He hears the parson pray and preach - With his outward ear alone, - For he only listens for Nellie's voice, - And responds in a dreamy tone, - And when she smiles at the carpenter near, - He can't suppress a groan. - - Despairing, hoping, fearing, - Onward thro' life he goes; - Each morning he sees Nellie, - And each evening, at its close; - She even haunts him sleeping, - And disturbs his night's repose. - - Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, - For the lesson thou hast taught; - Thus at the flirting time of life - Our fortunes may be wrought, - So we cannot be too careful - Over every word and thought! - - L. P. - -From _The Dunheved Mirror_, Cornwall, March, 1880. - - * * * * * - - -THE BRITISH M. P. - -(_A Song of St. Stephen's._) - - Under St. Stephen's high roof-tree - The British M. P. sits: - M. P. a mighty man is he, - With sharp and seasoned wits, - And an eloquence that, once set free, - Would give opponents fits. - - Week in, week out, from noon to night, - He must sit in silent woe, - Whilst WARTON vents his dullard spite, - With measured boom and slow, - Or SEXTON soars in furious flight - When the morning lights burn low. - - Boiling and bored, no fight, no fun, - Onward the M. P. goes. - Each day sees aimless jaw begun, - No night beholds its close. - Little attempted, nothing done-- - No work and no repose! - - _Punch_, March 24, 1883. - - * * * * * - - -THE VILLAGE PAX. - -(_With Deprecatory Acknowledgments to Longfellow._) - -["A PEACEFUL PARISH.--It is worthy of remark that in a parish near -Blandford a petition in favour of peace has been signed by every grown-up -man and woman, with the exception of one farmer."--_Times._] - - Under the spreading olive tree - The peaceful village stands, - It's known for its tranquillitee - Throughout the neighbouring lands; - And it drinks but very weak Bohea, - Nor smokes the mildest brands. - - Its hair is smooth, its patience long, - Its biceps, when you span, - You find they're more like dimples; and - You may hit them where you can, - And come off cheap with easy fame, - For it fights not any man. - - Week in, week out, from morn till night, - You can hear the humming low - Of dogs who like to bark and bite - Because their nature's so; - And their cocks they're all put out of sight, - For the bullies used to crow! - - Preaching, protesting, sorrowing, - Because of Eastern foes, - Each morning sees that village dawn, - Each evening sees it doze, - O'er asses' milk and ginger-beer, - And Peter Taylor's prose. - - Thanks, thanks, to you, O happy vale! - It is a cheering thought - That somewhere waits a blessed spot - For one by yells distraught, - Where bray of Jingoes reaches not, - And Drummond-Wolff is nought. - - * * * * * - - -THE VILLAGE WOODMAN. - -(_With apologies to Mr. Longfellow._) - - Under a spreading chestnut tree - The busy Gladstone stands; - Ever this restless W. G. - Has something on his hands. - O'er field or meadow, park or farm, - O'er clay or gravelly lands, - He takes the sharpened axe in hand - With tree-destroying plan; - His brow is wet with woodman's sweat, - He fells whate'er he can, - And looks the proud tree in the face, - And cleaves it like a man. - - Week in, week out, from morn to night, - You can hear his hatchet's blow; - You can see him swing his heavy axe, - Resolved that tree shall go, - Like a workman labouring for his pay - When his funds are very low; - And tourists, wandering o'er the fields, - Look aghast at this woodman bold; - They shudder at the flashing axe, - And mark the upturned mould; - They see by the scattered chips that fly - That the woodman's strong though old. - - He goes on Sunday to the church, - And reads the lessons there. - To hear the parson pray and preach - Few to that church repair. - But reading in that village church - Makes the G. O. M. rejoice, - For he loves to hear his own sweet voice - In Church or Parliament. - But where'er he be he thinks of trees, - How many fallen lie, - And those who notice him may see - A twinkle in his eye. - - Toiling, rejoicing, brandishing - His axe, thus on he goes; - Each morning sees some grand old tree, - Each evening sees its close; - Some branches felled, some trunk laid low-- - And then he seeks repose. - - _Moonshine_, January 19, 1884. - - * * * * * - -Longfellow's _Song of Hiawatha_ certainly invites parody, and its easy -metre is readily caught up by any one having an ordinarily good ear, and -knack of versification. Consequently parodies of it abound; unfortunately -they become somewhat wearisome in perusal from the monotonous diction, and -some of the best only will be quoted at length. - -The following, written by Mr. J. W. Morris, appeared in the _Bath and -Cheltenham Gazette_ shortly after the appearance of Longfellow's poem, and -is interesting as giving an account of the feelings with which _Hiawatha_ -was first received:-- - - -HIAWATHA. - -(_A Parody._) - - Do you ask me what I think of - This new song of _Hiawatha_, - With its legends and traditions, - And its frequent repetitions - Of hard names which make the jaw ache, - And of words most unpoetic? - I should answer, I should tell you - I esteem it wild and wayward, - Slipslop metre, scanty sense, - Honour paid to Mudjekewis, - But no honour to the Muse. - - * * * * * - - "Honour to the Muddyminded!" - Who now wears the belt of Wampum, - He has stolen it from the Northmen, - And he wears it, and shall wear; - And hereafter, and for ever, - Shall he hold ungrudged dominion - Over all the winds that whistle; - Call him no more Muddyminded, - Call him Longfellow, the Yankee! - - * * * * * - - Forth upon a Pitchy Puddle, - Gleaming with a fitful phosphor; - In a bark of his own making, - With a line of his own twisting, - Forth to catch a fine new Poem - All alone went Muddyminded. - At the stern sat Muddyminded, - For 'twas windy, and he knew - He was heavy, and he trembled - Lest he'd sink his grand canoe; - Soon he came to where 'twas clearer, - And the bottom he could see, - So he looked, and saw the bottom, - Saw the bottom of the sea. - - There he saw the song he wanted - Lying _far beyond his reach_, - Lying just within his vision, - But beyond the reach of boat-hook. - There it lay in all its armour, - Fenced about with ugly words, - Indian names and Indian notions, - Painted too, with various colours, - Earthy, very earthy, too. - - Muddyminded cast about him, - How he'd bring this song to light:-- - "Take my bait, you Indian Poem!" - Cried he down the depths below, - Then sat waiting for an answer, - For an answer from below. - - Quiet lay the Indian Story, - Nor would listen to his clamour; - Turned he to another tale though,-- - EUANGLEEN,--six-footed monster, - And he bade him take the bait, that - Still was dangling to and fro: - EUANGLEEN he rose to take it; - Muddyminded liked him not, - And he shouted through the water, - "Pesta! Pesta! shame upon you! - You are not a Poem at all, - You are one six-footed monster, - You are not the song I wanted." - Then went downward swift and certain - Down the depths of dark oblivion, - Disappointed EUANGLEEN. - - Then the mighty Indian Poem - Said to GOLDEN LEG, another, - "Take the bait of this great boaster, - Break his line, and spoil his trade!" - But again did Muddyminded - Shout derision as he rose, - "Pesta! Pesta! shame upon you! - You are but a lame imposture, - Fame will never call you Poem, - You are not the song I wanted." - - Then upleapt this Indian Story, - Legend rude, but fierce and strong-- - High enough he leapt, to show us - What he might be could we tame him, - Could there but a real Magician - Disenchant him, and control. - His great jaws he op'ed, and swallowed - Both canoe and Muddyminded. - - Down into that dark oblivion - Plunged the hapless Muddyminded,-- - As a log on some black river - Down the rapids plunges soon, - Found himself in utter darkness, - Thought he had been there before, - Groped about, and groped, and wondered, - Wondered, groped, and groped the more. - - J. W. M. - - * * * * * - -In 1856, a small shilling volume of 120 pages was published by George -Routledge and Co., as a companion to Longfellow's _Hiawatha_. This was -entitled, "_The Song of Drop o' Wather_, a London legend, by Harry -Wandsworth Shortfellow," and is now scarce. It commences thus:-- - - -APOLOGY FOR THERE BEING NO PREFACE. - - AUTHOR (_considering_). "People expect a preface; and this is the - place for one. But there is no preface in the great 'Indian Edda' - which has occasioned this poem. The author of that work gives his - explanation to the public in the Notes and Vocabulary; then, of - course, mine also, ought (and is) to be found in the Notes and - Vocabulary to 'The Song of Drop o' Wather.'" - -Then follow the contents, consisting of an Introduction and thirteen -chapters, namely:-- - - I. Drop o' Wather's Childhood. - II. Drop o' Wather and Pudgy-Wheezy. - III. Drop o' Wather's Fasting. - IV. Drop o' Wather's Friends. - V. Drop o' Wather's Filching. - VI. Drop o' Wather's Wooing. - VII. Drop o' Wather's Wedding. - VIII. The Ghost of the Star and Garter. - IX. Bilking the Runners. - X. Paw-Paw-Keeneyes. - XI. The Hunting of Paw-Paw-Keeneyes. - XII. The Fate of Queershin. - XIII. Drop o' Water's Departure. - -In its completeness and closeness of imitation, this anonymous work is -the best parody extant of the _Song of Hiawatha_. From the introduction, -and the first chapter, it will be gathered that the hero is a poor little -gutter child, who grows up to be a thief. The following chapters trace his -career in crime, and the last describes his departure to Australia as a -repentant emigrant. - - -THE SONG OF DROP O' WATHER. - -INTRODUCTION. - - Ye who love the haunts of Town-Life, - Love the kennel and the gutter, - Love the doorway of the gin-shop, - Love the mud about the kerb-stones, - And the drippings from the houses, - And the splashing of the rain-spouts - Through their palisade of gratings, - And the thunder of the coaches, - Whose innumerable echoes, - Roar like sea-waves on the shingle;-- - Listen to these wild traditions, - To this song of Drop o' Wather! - Ye who love a nation's legends, - Love the ballads of a people, - That like voices from afar off - Call to us to stop and listen, - Speak in tones so hoarse and roopy, - Scarcely can the ear distinguish - Whether they are hummed or shouted;-- - Listen to this London Legend, - To this song of Drop o' Wather! - - -I. - -DROP O' WATHER'S CHILDHOOD. - - Downward through the darkening twilight, - In the days long time ago, now, - In the last of drunken stages, - By the Half-Moon fell poor Norah, - On the pavement fell poor Norah, - Just about to be a mother. - She'd been tippling with some women, - Just within the Wine-Vaults' swing-door, - When her Gossip, out of mischief, - Partly idle, partly spiteful, - Pushed the swing-door from behind her, - Pushed in twain the Wine-Vaults' door-flap, - And poor Norah tumbled backward, - Downward through the darkening twilight, - On the gangway foul, the pavement, - On the gangway foul with mud-stains. - "See! a wench falls!" cried the people; - Look, a tipsy wench is falling!" - There amidst the gaping starers, - There amidst the idle passers, - On the gangway foul, the pavement, - In the murky darkened twilight, - Poor drunk Norah bore a boy-babe. - Thus was born young Drop o' Wather, - Thus was born the child of squalor. - He was named, by those who knew him, - Out of joke, and fun, and larking, - For what's called an Irish reason, - Or, by folks who sport the Classics, - A _lucus a non lucendo_, - Like, for all it is so unlike, - Hold a thing to be another, - For the sake of contradiction, - Or the sake of droll connection; - So the folks who knew our hero, - Gave his nickname for this reason,-- - 'Cause his mother never touched a - Drop of Water in her lifetime. - At the door on fine spring evenings, - Played the little Drop o' Wather; - Heard the cry of "Buy my inguns!" - Heard the cry "Young raddyshees, yere" - Calls of cadger, costermonger; - "Bilin'-apples!" said the huckster; - "Pies-all 'ot!" still said the pieman. - Saw the pot-boy, Wall-eyed Tommy, - Trudging through the dusk of evening, - With the shrillness of his whistle - Piercing all the courts and alleys. - And he sang the song of street-boys. - Sang the song the pot-boy taught him;-- - "Wall-eyed Tommy, he's the cove, boys! - He's the ranting, roaring blade, boys! - He's the lad, the daring fellow! - He's the chap, to carry ale-cans, - Pots of beer, and all them 'ere boys!" - Saw the balls at the pawnbroker's, - Balls alike, and three in number, - Saw the gold and burnish on them, - Bawled, "What are those? I say, mother!" - And the fuddled Norah answered, - "Once a cricketer, when angry, - Seized his ball, and bowling, threw it - Up against the shop times threefold, - Right against the shop he threw it; - 'Tis its tri-ghost that you see there." - Saw the gallows near the prison, - In the morning sky, the gallows; - Bawled, "What is that? I say mother!" - And the fuddled Norah answered, - "'Tis the gallows-tree, the gibbet; - All the naughty boys of London, - All the wicked ones and careless, - When in town they steal and pilfer, - Hang on that 'ere tree above us." - When he heard the thieves at midnight, - Hooting, laughing in the alley, - "What is that?" he cried half frightened; - "What is that? Now tell me, mother!" - And the fuddled Norah answered, - "That's the thieves and prigs together, - Talking in their own cant language, - Hoaxing, chaffing one another." - Then the little Drop o' Wather - Learned of all the thieves their language; - Learned their slang and learned their by-words, - Twigged their nicknames, knew their lodgings, - Where they hid themselves from justice; - Talked with them whene'er he met them, - Called them "Drop o' Wather's Cronies." - Of all prigs he learned the language, - Learned their gag, and all their secrets. - Found out all their haunts and dodges, - Picked up where they hid their booty, - How they packed the swag so closely, - Why they fought so shy and wary; - Talked with them whene'er he met them, - Called them "Drop o' Wather's Brothers." - - -II. - -DROP O' WATHER AND PUDGY-WHEEZY. - - Out of childhood into manhood - Now had grown young Drop o' Wather, - Skilled in all the craft of filchers, - Learned in all the slang of robbers, - In all ways and means of cribbing, - In all knowing arts and dodges. - Swift of foot was Drop o' Wather; - He could pitch a pebble from him, - And run forward with such fleetness, - That the pebble fell behind him! - Strong of arm was Drop o' Wather; - He could fling ten pebbles upward, - Fling them with such strength and swiftness, - That the tenth had left his fingers - Ere the first to ground had fallen. - He had bludgeon, Millemlikefun, - Good strong bludgeon, made of ash-wood; - When into his hand he took it, - He could smite a fellow's head off, - He could knock him into next week. - He had ankle-boots so jemmy, - Good strong ankle-boots of calf-skin; - When he put them on his trotters, - When he laced them up so tightly, - At each step three feet he measured. - From his lair went Drop o' Wather - Dressed for roving, armed for plunder; - Dressed in shooting-jacket natty, - Velveteen, with pearl-white buttons; - On his head a spick-and-span tile, - Round his waist a vest of scarlet; - In his mouth a sprig of shamrock, - In his breast a dashing brooch-pin, - Gold mosaic, set with sham stones; - With his bludgeon, Millemlikefun, - With his ankle-boots so jemmy. - Warning said old fuddled Norah, - "Go not forth, son Drop o' Wather, - To the quarter of the West-End, - To the regions, Hyde-Park, May Fair, - Lest they nab you (chaps from Bow-street), - Lest they clap you into prison." - But the daring Drop o' Wather - Heeded not her woman's warning; - Forth he went along the alley, - At each step three feet he measured; - Tempting looked the shops about him, - Tempting looked the things within them; - Bright and fine the showy jewels, - Smart and gay the newest fashions, - Brown and smooth cigars in boxes, - All that set his heart a-longing, - Longing with the wish to crib them. - - * * * * * - - -XIII. - -DROP O' WATHER'S DEPARTURE. - - Now remains for me to tell of - How he ended, Drop o' Wather; - What befell him, after all his - Knowing doings in the course of - His career, his life in London. - He had run his rigs so clever, - He had risked so very closely, - He had just avoided Newgate, - He had narrowly 'scaped hanging; - And a dream he had one midnight, - Brought him to a sense of danger. - Thus he dreamed; 'twas really awful. - Not far off from Bedford Bury, - By the muddy Big-Thame-Water, - At the doorway of his lodging, - Thought he stood one rainy morning, - Thought he stood there, lounging idly, - Watching fall the sooty raindrops - From the eaves and roofs of houses, - Watching fill the dirty puddles, - Splashed and speckled with the drizzle; - Flowed in filthy streams the gutters, - Flowed the spouts as they ran over; - Pouring, pelting, came the shower. - - * * * * * - - Through the alley, sudden, briskly, - Something in the hazy distance, - Something in the misty morning, - Came along the dripping pavement, - Now seemed hurrying, now seemed hasting, - Coming nearer, nearer, nearer. - Was it Dingledong, the dustman? - Was it Twopenny, the postman? - Or the cobbler, Shoe-shoe-mender, - Or the milkman, Water-well-it, - With the raindrops dripping, dashing - Profitably in the milk-cans? - It was neither milkman, dustman, - Cobbler, postman, none of those men, - Coming on that misty morning; - But a set of sturdy fellows, - Fast advancing up the alley, - Striding, splashing through the raindrops, - Come with warrant strictly formal, - From the distant Police-office, - From Marlborough Street that morning, - Come with magistrate's command to - Apprehend and promptly take up - Drop o' Wather for his trial. - Then he thought he dreamed the scene of - His conviction, condemnation; - How he saw the Court dense crowded, - Crowded with indignant faces; - How he saw the dock, where he stood, - How he saw the Bench, where Judge sat, - How he saw the box for jury, - Where the twelve sat looking fateful; - Saw the Judge rise up and cover - With black cap his hair of silver; - Heard the word of solemn verdict,-- - "Guilty!" Words of fearful sentence,-- - "Hanged by neck," and "dead, dead, dead," last. - Thought he fainted quite away there, - And was carried straight to Newgate; - In the dreary cell of felon, - In condemned cell chained with fetters, - There to 'wait the time appointed - For his final execution. - Dreamed he saw the black-robed Chaplain - Come to speak of consolation; - Dreamed he heard the words of comfort - Sounding strangely (Ah, how strangely!-- - Sad to think how very strangely - Come those words to ear of culprit, - Never taught to seek their lessons, - Never taught to know their meaning!) - Dreamed he saw the fatal gibbet, - Dreamed he saw the upturned faces - Of the multitude below him; - Dreamed he felt Jack Ketch's fingers - Busy round his neck, adjusting - Noose of rope that was to hang him - Like a dog, not human creature! - Dreamed that in that awful moment, - Came a shout, a cry, a calling; - Dreamed he heard "Reprieve!" loud shouted. - Dreamed he heard of transportation - Being his commuted sentence. - This last thought possessed him wholly - When he woke, and found he'd dreamed all. - Grave he pondered, till it struck him, - That he'd carry out the substance - Of that portion of his dreaming, - Where he felt relieved from terror. - He resolved to seek his fortune - In a fresh new scene of action; - He determined on the scheme of - Nothing less than transportation, - Voluntary transportation, - Willing, prompt, self-transportation, - Most transporting transportation,-- - In words other,--emigration. - And he said to mother Norah, - To his wife his Minnie Wather, - Better half, his Frisky-Whisky, - "I've made up my mind to try and - Live a new life, life more dacent; - So let's go and try what turns up - In the New World over yonder." - On the deck stood Drop o' Wather, - Turned and waved his hat at parting; - On the deck of the good vessel, - Outward bound for the long voyage, - Stood and waved his hat at parting - From the dear old Mother Country. - - * * * * * - - Then a pause; and then he shouted, - Shouted loudly Drop o' Wather: - "Southward! Southward! now then, Southward!" - And the ship went sailing forward - On her way of trust and promise, - Southward, southward; Drop o' Wather - Looking steadfastly before him, - As confronting firm the future. - And his people gave a loud cheer, - Just to cheer him up at parting, - As the ship sailed southward, southward; - And they cried, "Good-bye, my boy, then! - Good bye, Norah! Good-bye, Minnie! - Take good care of yourselves, darlints! - Let us know how you all get on! - Best of all good luck go wid' ye! - So God bless ye! and God speed ye!" - Thus departed Drop o' Wather, - Drop o' Wather, the fine fellow, - With his trust of doing better, - With, at least, that firm intention. - To the regions of the New World, - Of the Bay entitled Bot'ny, - To the Island of New Holland, - To another "New" New South Wales, - To the land of hope, Australia! - -This clever parody is followed by amusing burlesque notes, the first of -which thus explains the origin of _The Song of Drop o' Wather_. - - "This London Legend--if it may be so called--has been suggested by - an interesting Indian tradition, given to the world in the form of - a beautiful poem. The picturesque scenery, vivid description, and - glowing imagery to be found in that production, are fully felt; - while their charm is no more disparaged by the present sportive - trifle, than the sublimity of Shakespeare has been lessened by - the burlesques and parodies that have been made from time to time - upon his great dramas. The tragedy of _Hamlet_ is exalted, not - lowered, by Mr. Poole's admirably clever travestie. The mere fact - of burlesquing a work avouches its excellence--certainly its - popularity." - -It is much to be regretted that the author of this amusing work should -remain unknown. - - * * * * * - -Mr. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell's _Puck on Pegasus_ (Chatto and Windus) -has gone through so many editions, and is such a favourite book, that -his imitation of _Hiawatha_ is familiar to most people. The author has -recently somewhat modified its opening lines. As thus altered it will -shortly appear in a selection of Mr. H. C. Pennell's poems, and he has -kindly allowed me to include it in this collection. - -The original poem in _Puck on Pegasus_ commenced thus:-- - - -SONG OF IN-THE-WATER. - - When the summer night descended, - Sleepy, on the White-witch water, - Came a lithe and lovely maiden, - Gazing on the silent water-- - Gazing on the gleaming river, - With her azure eyes and tender,-- - On the river glancing forward, - Till the laughing wave sprang upward, - Upward from his reedy hollow, - With the lily in his bosom, - With his crown of water-lilies-- - Curling ev'ry dimpled ripple - As he sprung into the starlight, - As he clasped her charmed reflection - Glowing to his crystal bosom-- - As he whispered, "Fairest, fairest, - Rest upon this crystal bosom!" - - * * * * * - -In the new version the title has been changed, and some of the opening -lines altered, but from the point where the above extract closes to the -end of the poem, the two versions are very similar, and the later one is -quoted in full:-- - - -SONG OF LOWER-WATER. - - When the summer Moon was sleeping - On the Sands of Lower-Water-- - By the Lowest Water Margin-- - At the mark of Dead Low Water,-- - Came a lithe and lovely maiden, - Crinolina, Wand'ring Whiteness, - Gazing on the ebbing water-- - Gazing on the gleaming river-- - With her azure eyes and tender,-- - On the river glancing forward, - Till the laughing Wave sprang upward, - From his throne in Lower-Water,-- - Upwards from his reedy hollow, - With the lily in his bosom, - With his crown of water-lilies-- - Curling ev'ry dimpled ripple - As he leapt into the starlight, - As he clasped her charmed reflection - Glowing to his crystal bosom-- - As he whisper'd "Wand'ring Whiteness, - Rest upon my crystal bosom! - Join this little water party."... - Yet she spoke not, only murmured:-- - Down into the water stept she, - Lowest Water--Dead Low Water-- - Down into the wavering river, - Like a red deer in the sunset-- - Like a ripe leaf in the autumn: - From her lips, as rose-buds snow-filled, - Came a soft and dreamy music, - Softer than the breath of summer, - Softer than the murm'ring river, - Than the cooing of Cushawa,-- - Sighs that melted as the snows melt, - Silently and sweetly melted; - Sounds that mingled with the crisping - Foam upon the billow resting:-- - - Still she spoke not, only murmured. - - From the forest shade primeval, - Piggey-Wiggey looked out at her; - He the most Successful Squeaker-- - He the very Youthful Porker-- - He the Everlasting Grunter-- - Gazed upon her there, and wondered! - With his nose out, Rokey-pokey-- - And his tail up, Curley-wurley-- - Wondered what could be the matter, - - Wondered what the girl was up to-- - What the deuce her little game was.... - - And she floated down the river, - Like a water-witch'd Ophelia.... - FOR HER CRINOLINE SUSTAINED HER. - - * * * * * - - -THE WALLFLOWERS. - - Two belated men from Oxford, - Members of a nameless college-- - Pip, the philosophic smoker, - And his friend they called the Fluffer-- - Men belated in the country, - Lost their way geologising; - Reached the city after midnight, - After lawful hour of entry, - By the gateway of the college. - And they did not rouse the porter, - For they knew the dean was wrathful, - And had vowed a weighty vengeance, - If a man knocked in belated. - But they gat them round a back way, - Where a wall divides the college - From intrusion of the vulgar. - Stole they down a lonely footpath, - And they halted where a sapling - Very near the wall was growing; - And above an ancient elm-tree - Stretched a downward arm in welcome, - To embrace the little sapling. - Each in turn his toe adapted, - Where a crevice in the stonework, - In the worn and ancient stonework, - Gave a short precarious foothold - While they climbed the little sapling. - Pip had scaled the wall, and sitting, - Helped the Fluffer struggling upwards, - When a Bobby, a policeman, - Irreproachable policeman, - Came upon them round the corner, - And remarked, "Gents, I have caught you; - You're a pretty pair of wallflowers!" - Then the Fluffer answered briefly, - Answered, "Bobby, you have caught us," - And the careful Pip, the smoker, - From his seat upon the wall-top, - Echoed, "I believe you've caught us." - But the Bobby, the policeman, - Said, "I have not seen you do it-- - Seen you over any wall get; - And perhaps I should not see you, - If I happened to be looking - In an opposite direction, - With my back turned right upon you." - Nothing further said the Bobby, - Irreproachable policeman, - Only grinned, and seemed to linger. - Quick then Pip pulled up the Fluffer, - And inquired, "Old fellow, Fluffer, - Have you any coin about you?" - And the Fluffer from his pockets, - Brought the bob, the silver shilling, - And the piece of six, the tizzy, - And the piece of four, the joey, - And the double bob, the florin. - Down he threw them on the pathway; - Then the Bobby, the policeman, - Irreproachable policeman, - Picked them up, and whispered softly, - Somebody had dropped some money; - He was lucky to have found it. - After that did Pip, the smoker, - And his friend they called the Fluffer, - Get across the wall securely; - But the Bobby, the policeman, - Irreproachable policeman, - Did not see them get across it; - For he happened to be looking - In an opposite direction, - And his back was turned upon them. - - _Odd Echoes from Oxford_, by A. Merion, B.A. - -J. C. Hotten, 1872. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF NICOTINE. - - SHOULD you ask me why this meerschaum, - Why these clay-pipes and churchwardens, - With the odours of tobacco, - With the oil and fume of "mixture," - With the curling smoke of "bird's eye," - With the gurgling of rank juices, - With renewed expectorations - As of sickness on the fore-deck? - I should answer, I should tell you, - From the cabbage, and the dust-heaps, - From the old leeks of the Welshland, - From the soil of kitchen gardens, - From the mud of London sewers, - From the garden-plots and churchyards, - Where the linnet and cock-sparrow - Feed upon the weeds and groundsel, - I receive them as I buy them - From the boxes of Havana, - The concocter, the weird wizard. - Should you ask how this Havana - Made cigars so strong and soothing, - Made the "bird's eye," and "York-river," - I should answer, I should tell you, - In the purlieus of the cities, - In the cellars of the warehouse, - In the dampness of the dungeon, - Lie the rotten weeds that serve him; - In the gutters and the sewers, - In the melancholy alleys, - Half-clad Arab boys collect them, - Crossing-sweepers bring them to him, - Costermongers keep them for him, - And he turns them by his magic - Into "cavendish" and "bird's-eye," - For those clay-pipes and churchwardens, - For this meerschaum, or he folds them, - And "cigars" he duly labels - On the box in which he sells them. - - From _Figaro_, October 7, 1874. - - * * * * * - -The following is an extract from a long parody contained in _Lays of -Modern Oxford_, by _Adon_ (Chapman and Hall, 1874.) - - -THE BUMP SUPPER. - - "_Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero Pulsanda tellus._" - - You shall hear how once our college, - When our boat had done great wonders, - And had bumped all boats before it, - Gave a great and grand bump-supper. - First the scouts, the sherry-swiggers, - And the scouts' boys, beer-imbibers, - Spread the things upon the table. - - * * * * * - - And they placed upon the table - Champagne-cup and rosy claret. - When the lamp-black night descended - Broad and dark upon the college, - When the reading man, the bookworm, - Grinding, sat among his Greek books, - With his oak securely sported, - And his tea-cup on the table, - From their rooms in groups assembled - Many guests to this great supper. - Came the boating men in numbers, - Came the cricketers in numbers, - Came the athletes clothed with muscle, - Came the singers, and the jesters, - And the jokers, funny fellows; - Came the active gymnast Biceps, - Also Pugilis, his comrade, - Very clever with the mittens; - Came our sturdy plucky boat's crew, - Remex Princeps, and his comrades, - And the steerer, Gubernator. - All were hungry, all were merry, - Full of repartee and laughter. - First they ate the slippy oyster, - Native oyster, cool and luscious, - And the ruddy blushing lobster, - And the crab so rich and tasty; - Then they ate the cold roast chicken, - And the finely flavoured ox-tongue, - And the cold roast mutton sheep's flesh, - And the pigeon-pie, the dove-tart, - And the well stuffed duck and turkey, - With the sausages around it. - Thus the guests, the mutton munchers, - Played the noble game of chew-chew, - Game of knife and fork and tumblers, - Very popular in Oxford. - - * * * * * - - Then a man, who came from Cornwall, - Sang a song that clearly stated - If a person named Trelawny, - Should by any hap or hazard, - Leave the world by death untimely, - Many people in the south-west - Part of England would insist on - Knowing wherefore he had left it. - Then the cheeky smiling Ginger - Sang of lovely Angelina, - Lady with the Grecian bend, and - Of the maiden dressed in azure, - With both eyes and hair of darkness. - Then the guests said, "Sing some more songs; - Sing to us immortal Ginger, - Songs of laughter quaint and comic, - With a merry roaring chorus, - That we all may be more noisy. - And the sleeping dons may waken." - - * * * * * - - All was shouting, noise, confusion, - Till at last the guests exhausted, - All departed hot and dizzy, - Thus the entertainment ended, - Thus the great bump-supper ended, - Long to be discussed and talked of, - Long to be remembered by the - College in the days hereafter. - - * * * * * - - -THE LEGEND OF KEN-E-LI. - -(From _Figaro_, August 11, 1875.) - - * * * * * - - High among the tribes of Jon-buls, - Was a tribe they called the Lor-yahs; - Very cunning were the Lor-yahs: - They could talk and twist and double - Till the other tribes of Jon-buls - Scarcely knew if they were standing - On their heads or on their sandals. - - Chief among these learned Lor-yahs - Was the great and good Ken-e-li. - Brave and handsome, kind and gentle, - Soft in voice and smooth in manner, - Wise yet simple, strong yet tender, - Was the mighty chief Ken-e-li. - But the blind and stupid Jon-buls - Could not see his many virtues; - When he spake they shouted, "_Bun-kum!_" - And they scoffed at good Ken-e-li. - - * * * * * - - The poem then describes the gentle manners - of the inhabitants of the district An-lee, their - mild sports and pastimes, and how they chose - the great Ken-e-li to be their talking Em-pee in - the council of their nation, and the manner in - which he was received there. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE BEETLE. - - [The following graceful effusion, by a well-known - Longfellow-countryman of the Colorado insect, should be hailed - with delight by the British public. As it contains an accurate - description of the Beetle, we would suggest that it should be - learned by heart by the Rector of Hitcham's school-children, with a - view to preventing entomological mistakes.] - - Should you ask me of the Beetle, - Of the Colorado Beetle!-- - Properly the _Doryphora - Decemlineata_ christen'd-- - I should answer, I should tell you, - "He's a beggar for potatoes, - Quite a glutton at potatoes-- - For he 'wolfs' the common 'murphy.' - The _Solanum tuberosum_. - (Thus the _savans_ named the tater!") - - Should you ask me if the Beetle - Were at all like other beetles-- - Like the 'chafer, for example, - Him whom boys impale on pin-point-- - I should straight reply in this wise: - "He, when young, is like the insect - Whose abode is always burning, - She whose children are departed.[4] - - But when fourteen days have glided, - Then the Beetle is much longer; - Very much more pointed-taily, - Sharp as to his latter ending, - Red thus far has been his colour, - Red, the hue of guardsman's tunic, - Red, the tint of postal pillars. - But, as time and trouble try him, - This our insect grows much paler, - Fades and fades till he is yellow-- - Yellow e'en as one dyspeptic, - Yellow with black stripes upon him." - - Should you further ask the poet, - How to treat the little stranger? - I should answer, I should bid you, - "Stamp on him, where'er you find him! - In the garden--in the pig-sty-- - In the parlour or the bed-room-- - In the roadway or the meadow-- - Squash the little wretch, confound him! - _That's_ the way that I should answer,-- - That's the sort of man that _I_ am." - - From _Funny Folks_. - -In 1879 the editor of _The World_ offered two prizes for the best parodies -on Longfellow's _Hiawatha_, the subject selected being _The Hunting of -Cetewayo_. There were 135 competitors, the first prize was awarded to -Floreant-Lauri, whose poem will be found, with the three next best, in -_The World_ for October 8, 1879. - -The prize poem commenced as follows:-- - - Very wrath was Wolsey-Pullsey - When he landed at Fort Durban, - Hearing all the depredations - Of the cunning Cetewayo; - Called his captain Giffey-Wiffey, - Saying, "Catch this Cetewayo, - Muzzle thou this mischief-maker; - Not so tangled is the jungle, - Not so dark the deepest donga, - But that thou canst track and find him." - Then in hot pursuit departed - Giffey-Wiffey and his soldiers, - Through the jungle, through the forest; - But they found not Cetewayo-- - Only found his bed and blanket. - From the farthest dingey-donga - Cetewayo looking backward, - Placed his thumb upon his nostril, - Made the sign, the Snookey-Wookey, - Made the gesture of derision, - Pulling bacon, piggey-whiggey, - Hurling at them his defiance. - Then cried Giffey-Wiffey loudly, - "When I catch you, you black rascal, - Cat-o'-nine tails, pussey-wussey, - You and she shall be acquainted," - Mockingly came back the answer: - "When you catchee, when you catchee!" - - * * * * * - - * * * * * - - -THE HUNTING OF CETEWAYO. - - Full of anger was Sir Garnet - When he came among the Zulus, - And found them in a precious muddle, - Heard of all the wicked doings, - All the luckless Zulus slaughter'd - By the savage Cetewayo. - Fuming in alarming fashion, - Through his thick moustache he mutter'd - Dire words of blood and thunder, - Raging like an angry tiger-- - "I will nobble Cetewayo, - Bag this horrid rascal," said he; - "Not so wide the realm of Zulus, - Not so terrible the bye-ways, - That my anger shall not nail him, - That my vengeance shall not spot him!" - Then in hot pursuit departed - Marter and the mighty hunters - On the trail of Cetewayo. - Through the bush where he had hidden, - To the hut where he had rested-- - But they found not Cetewayo; - Only in the charcoal embers - And the smell of bad tobacco, - Found the spot where he had halted; - Found the tokens of his presence. - Through the bush and brake and forest - Ran the cunning Cetewayo, - Till a lonely kraal he entered - In the middle of the forest! - Then the corpulent old sinner - Heard the tramp of many footsteps, - Heard the sound of many voices, - Saying, "He, the white man's coming!" - Got into a funk and shivered. - Then came Marter, mighty Major, - He, of all Dragoons the boldest, - To the hut door riding straightway, - Saying, "Where is Cetewayo, - For his Majesty is wanted?" - Then came forth the noble savage, - On his breast a scarlet blanket, - Proudly wearing à la toga, - Gave himself to mighty Marter; - Pass'd a captive 'twixt the soldiers! - Ended now his strange adventures, - Ended all his wily dodges, - All his plottings and his schemings, - And his hecatombs of Zulus! - - From _Snatches of Song_, by F. B. Doveton, 1880. - - * * * * * - - - - -HIAWATHA'S PHOTOGRAPHING. - - -_Author's Preface._ - -("In an age of imitation, I can claim no special merit for this slight -attempt at doing what is known to be so easy. Any fairly practised writer, -with the slightest ear for rhythm, could compose, for hours together, in -the easy running metre of 'The Song of Hiawatha.'") - - From his shoulder Hiawatha - Took the camera of rosewood. - Made of sliding, folding rosewood, - Neatly put it all together. - In its case it lay compactly, - Folded into nearly nothing; - But he opened out the hinges, - Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges, - Till it looked all squares and oblongs, - Like a complicated figure - In the Second Book of Euclid. - This he perched upon a tripod-- - Crouched beneath its dusky cover-- - Stretched his hand, enforcing silence-- - Said, "Be motionless, I beg you!" - Mystic, awful was the process. - All the family in order, - Sat before him for their pictures; - Each, in turn, as he was taken, - Volunteered his own suggestions, - His ingenious suggestions. - First the Governor, the Father, - He suggested velvet curtains - Looped about a massy pillar; - And a corner of a table, - Of a rosewood dining-table. - He would hold a scroll of something, - Hold it firmly in his left hand; - He would keep his right hand buried - (Like Napoleon) in his waistcoat; - He would contemplate the distance - With a look of pensive meaning, - As of ducks that die in tempests. - Grand, heroic was the notion: - Yet the picture failed entirely-- - Failed because he moved a little, - Moved, because he couldn't help it." - - * * * * * - - Next to him the eldest daughter: - She suggested very little, - Only asked if he would take her - With her look of 'passive beauty.' - Her idea of passive beauty - Was a squinting of the left eye, - Was a drooping of the right eye, - Was a smile that went up sideways - To the corner of the nostrils." - -After having taken each member of the family in succession, with the most -dismal results:-- - - Finally my Hiawatha - Tumbled all the tribe together, - ('Grouped' is not the right expression), - And, as happy chance would have it, - Did at last obtain a picture - Where the faces all succeeded: - Each came out a perfect likeness. - Then they joined, and all abused it, - Unrestrainedly abused it, - As 'the worst and ugliest picture - They could possibly have dreamed of.' - - * * * * * - - But my Hiawatha's patience, - His politeness and his patience, - Unaccountably had vanished, - And he left that happy party. - Left them in a mighty hurry, - Stating that he would not stand it, - Stating in emphatic language - What he'd be before he'd stand it. - Thus departed Hiawatha. - - From _Rhyme? and Reason?_ by Lewis Carroll, 1883. - -These disjointed extracts give but a poor idea of this most amusing poem, -the comical effects of which are much heightened by Mr. A. B. Frost's -humorous illustrations. - - * * * * * - - -THE LAWN-TENNIS PARTY AT PEPPERHANGER. - -(_A fragment in the metre of Longfellow's "Hiawatha."_) - - I was sitting in my wigwam, - Looking from my lofty wigwam, - On the fir-clad hill of Dryburgh, - O'er the vale of Pepperhanger. - Suddenly there came a rapping, - [Sidenote: The Postman's knock.] - Double rapping, double tapping, - Sounding through the little wigwam, - Startling quiet Pepperhanger. - Thus the Government Messénjah, - [Sidenote: Heathen Mythology.] - Mercury of brazen buttons, - Crimson-collared, azure-coated, - Blue as when some ancient Briton, - As enlightenment came o'er him, - Thinking skin was rather shabby, - [Sidenote: History of England.] - Went and put a coat of Woad on. - He, the carrier of all letters, - He the bearer of all tidings - To the lofty hill of Dryburgh, - To the vale of Pepperhanger. - Swiftly then I took the letter; - Eagerly I read the message - From a hospitable lady - Of the vale of Pepperhanger, - "Come at four o'clock to tiffin, - If no better action urges; - In the cool of Tuesday evening, - Come and play a game of Tennis - On my lawns at Pepperhanger." - Thus her letter: then I sallied - To her almost hidden wigwam. - Which from East and rude Sou'-wester - Evergreen the pine-tree shelters; - Took my Tennis shoes of rubber, - Mocassins of Indian rubber, - Racket, too, of Horace Bayley, - To the tournament of Tennis - On the lawns of Pepperhanger. - [Sidenote: Lodge's Peerage.] - Came the lordly Tennyslornah. - Came the Reverend B. A. Kander, - [Sidenote: Clergy List.] - Came the cute 'un, Charley Pleycynge, - Came the smasher, young de Vorley, - Came the great Sir V. O. Verandah, - Came the warrior, Foragh Biscoe, - [Sidenote: Sludgeborough-in-the-Marsh.] - Strangers from a distant countrie, - To the tournament of Tennis - In the vale of Pepperhanger. - There we had a game at Tennis, - Outdoor Tennis let us call it, - Lest the lords of real Tennis - Should invoke a curse upon us; - Hotly smote the fierce back-hander, - Volleyed toward, also froward, - Till the speeding ball appeared as - One continuous flash of lightning: - Shouted loudly cries of Tennis, - "Forty-thirty" and "advantage," - Giving fifteen, owing thirty - For a bisque, anon half-thirty - Owing, giving, taking, wanting, - Till the brain was almost reeling, - [Sidenote: Colenso's Arithmetic.] - Handicapping calculations - All too hard for Pepperhanger! - Presently the tea-bell sounded - Through the pine-tree-shelter'd gardens - To the ne'er inebriating - Ever cheering goblet summons. - - From _Pastime_, August 24, 1883. - - * * * * * - -The late Mr. Shirley Brooks composed a number of clever parodies, many of -which were contributed to _Punch_ during his Editorship of that journal. -Three of the longest and most amusing of these were _The Very Last Idyll_, -after Tennyson; _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_, after Coleridge; and -The _Song of Hiawatha_, after Longfellow. A quotation from The _Very Last -Idyll_ was given on page 44; and the parody on Coleridge will be quoted -when that author is reached; the parody of Longfellow, which appeared in -_Punch_ as far back as 1856, commenced thus:-- - - -THE SONG OF HIAWATHA. - - (_Author's Protective Edition._) - - You, who hold in grace and honour, - Hold as one who did you kindness - When he published former poems, - Sang Evangeline the noble, - Sang the golden Golden Legend, - Sang the songs the Voices utter, - Crying in the night and darkness, - Sang how unto the Red Planet - Mars he gave the Night's First Watches, - Henry Wadsworth, whose adnomen - (Coming awkward for the accents - Into this his latest rhythm) - Write we as Protracted Fellow, - Or in Latin, Longus Comes-- - Buy the Song of Hiawatha. - - Should you ask me, Is the poem - Worthy of its predecessors, - Worthy of the sweet conceptions - Of the manly, nervous diction - Of the phrase, concise or pliant, - Of the songs that sped the pulses, - Of the songs that gemmed the eyelash, - Of the other works of Henry? - I should answer, I should tell you, - You may wish that you may get it-- - Don't you wish that you may get it? - - * * * * * - - Should you ask me, What's its nature? - Ask me, What's the kind of poem? - Ask me in respectful language, - Touching your respectful beaver, - Kicking back your manly hind-leg, - Like to one who sees his betters; - I should answer, I should tell you, - 'Tis a poem in this metre, - And embalming the traditions, - Tables, rites, and superstitions - Of the various tribes of Indians. - - * * * * * - - I should answer, I should tell you - Shut your mouth and go to David, - David, Mr. Punch's neighbour, - Buy the Song of Hiawatha. - Read and learn, and then be thankful - Unto Punch and Henry Wadsworth, - Punch and noble Henry Wadsworth. - Truer poet, better fellow, - Than to be annoyed at jesting - From his friend, great Punch, who loves him. - - * * * * * - -The following is a list of the names of some famous advertisers of thirty -years ago, taken from _Hiawater_, a parody contained in "The Shilling Book -of Beauty," by Cuthbert Bede (J. Blackwood, 1853):-- - - "Howlawaya, the quack doctor; - Mosieson, the cheap slop seller; - Mechisteel and Warrenblacking; - Camomile, the Pillofnorton; - Marywedlake, oaten bruiser; - Doctorjong, the great cod liver; - Revalenta, the Dubarrie, - Rowlandskalidore, and Trotman's - Doubledupperambulator." - -Another scarce parody on the same original was entitled _Milk-and-Watha_, -and an amusing skit was also contained in Gilbert's libretto to _Princess -Toto_. - -There is also a parody in Edmund Yates's _Our Miscellany_ (G. Routledge -and Co., 1857), and "Revenge, a Rhythmic Recollection," appeared in _Tom -Hood's Comic Annual_, 1877. - - * * * * * - - -SHORTFELLOW SUMS UP LONGFELLOW. - - Miles Standish, old Puritan soldier, courts gal Priscilla by proxy; - Gal likes the proxy the best, so Miles, in a rage, takes and hooks it. - Folks think he's killed, but he ain't, and comes back, as a friend, - to the wedding, - If you call this ink-Standish stuff poetry, _Punch_ will soon reel - you off Miles. - - _Shirley Brooks_ on "The Courtship of Miles Standish." - - * * * * * - - -THE WAGNER FESTIVAL. - - (_By an admirer of Longfellow's "Evangeline," who sorrowfully - sat through the six concerts._) - - This is the music primeval. The festival singers from Bayreuth, - Solemn and stern, with their shirt fronts studded, and swallow-tailed - garments, - Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic, - Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms, - Loud from its ligneous caverns, the deep-voiced neighbouring organ - Moans, and in accents disconsolate answers the orchestra wailing. - - This is the music primeval, and when it is ended, Herr Wagner - Is called to the front, and is crowned with a wreath by the Madame - Materna; - Then there is hugging and kissing and weeping with Wagner Wilhelmj, - And Richter, to whom is presented a bâton--brand new, silver-mounted; - But where are the beautiful maidens who solemnly sat in the boxes? - Where are the men--tawny swells--who talked of clubs, races, or - billiards, - Silenced from time unto time by thunders and earthquakes orchestral? - Empty are boxes and stalls, the occupants all have departed, - And the critic goes--glad to survive the music primeval of Wagner. - - _Funny Folks._ - -Another parody of Evangeline, entitled _Picnicaline_ occurs in "Mirth and -Metre," 1855. - - -EXCELSIOR. - - The shades of night were falling fast, - As through an Alpine village passed, - A youth, who bore 'mid snow and ice, - A banner with this strange device, - Excelsior! - - His brow was sad; his eye beneath - Flashed like a faulchion from its sheath, - And like a silver clarion rung, - The accents of that unknown tongue. - Excelsior! - -It is possible that Longfellow had the motto of New York, "_Excelsior_," -in his mind when he composed this hackneyed poem, which has served as the -model for hundreds of parodies, and particularly for advertising purposes. -A few of the more amusing only can be inserted. - - -EXCELSIOR IN "PIDGIN ENGLISH." - -The following article is from _Pro and Con_, December 14, 1872. - -"Pidgin English is the name given to an absurd _patois_ which is used in -conversation between the Chinese celestials, and the outer barbarians. It -appears to be a physical impossibility for a Chinaman to pronounce the -letter _r_ as in rough, cry, or curry, which he turns into lough, cly, and -cully, as young English children often do. V, he turns into W, th into -f, and to most words ending with a consonant, he adds a final syllable, -as in _find findie_, _catch catchee_, &c. I, me, my, and mine, are all -expressed by one word, _my_. The vocabulary consists of a few words of -French origin, such as savey, one or two from the Portuguese, many common -Chinese expressions, such as _chop-chop_ for quick; _man-man_, which -means stop; _maskee_, never mind, or do not mind; _chin-chin_, good-bye; -_welly culio_, or _muchee culio_, very curious; _Foss-pidgin-man_, a -priest; and _Topside Galah_, hurrah for the top, or Excelsior. There is -also a plentiful use of the word _pidgin_, which is simply a corruption -of our word _business_, but it appears to be applied with the utmost -impartiality, to a variety of most incongruous phrases. As an example of -every day talk, a lady telling her nurse to bring down her little girl and -boy to see a visitor would say,--'Aymah, suppose you go topside catchee -two piecee chiloe, bull chiloe, cow chiloe, chop chop.' From a gentleman -well acquainted with China and the Chinese, we have received the following -clever imitation of Excelsior, which is pronounced a very fair specimen of -Pidgin English":-- - - -TOPSIDE GALAH! - - "That nightee tim begin chop-chop, - One young man walkee, no can stop, - Maskee colo! maskee icee! - He cally that flag wid chop so nicee - _Topside Galah!_ - - "He too muchee solly, one piecee eye - Look see sharp--so fashion--allo same my, - He talkee largee, talkee stlong, - Too muchee culio-allo same gong-- - _Topside Galah!_ - - "Inside that housee he can see light, - And evely loom got fire all light. - Outside, that icee largee high, - Inside he mouf, he plenty cly, - _Topside Galah!_ - - "Olo man talkee, 'No can walkee!' - Bimeby lain come-welly darkee, - Hab got water, too muchee wide! - Maskee! my wantchee go topside-- - _Topside Galah!_ - - "'Man-man,' one galo talkee he, - What for you go topside look see?' - And one tim more he plenty cly, - But allo tim walkee plenty high, - _Topside Galah!_ - - "'Take care that spilem-tlee young man! - Take care that icee!'" He no man-man; - That coolie chin-chin he 'Good night,' - He talkee, 'My can go all lite!' - _Topside Galah!_ - - "Joss Pidgin man chop-chop begin - That morning tim that joss chin-chin, - He no man see, he plenty fear, - Cause some man speakee, he can hear - _Topside Galah!_ - - "That young man die--one largee dog see, - Too muchee bobbely, findee he; - Hand muchee colo, allo same icee, - Have piecee flag wid chop so nicee, - _Topside Galah!_ - - MOLAL. - - "You too much laughee! what for sing? - I tink you no savey what ting! - Supposee you no b'long cleber inside, - More better you go walkee topside, - _Topside Galah!_" - -Another, but, on the whole, inferior version of the above parody appeared -in Harper's Magazine, and is quoted at page 122 of _Poetical Ingenuities -and Eccentricities_, by W. T. Dobson (Chatto and Windus, 1882.) - - * * * * * - - The shades of night were falling fast, - When through the spacious High there passed - A form in gown of strange device, - Who uttered in a tone of ice, - "Your name and college!" - - His brow was black, his eye beneath - Shone like a wrathful bull-dog's teeth; - And still amid the darkness rung - The accents of his well-known tongue; - "Your name and college!" - - "Try not the High," the porter said, - "Dark lowers the proctor, bull-dog led." - But forth in "loud" illegal dress - The youth went, crying "Let him guess - My name and college!" - - (_Half-an-hour elapses._) - - "O stay," his comrade said, "and rest - Thy wearied limbs and panting chest!" - To gain their wind the fliers try, - When lo! a figure gliding nigh, - Cries, "Name and college!" - - "Beware the proctor's sacred paunch, - Beware the rushing bull-dog's launch!" - This was the porter's last good-night; - A voice replied, "It serves me right - For cutting college!" - - Next morn, as tolled the stroke of nine, - Two youths, in dread of penal fine, - Slunk silent through the awful gate, - And "hoped they were not much too late, - They'd run from college!" - - There, like a mouse awaiting cat, - Awful and calm the proctor sat; - And, like a death-knell booming far, - A voice fell stern: "This week you are - Confined to college!" - - _College Rhymes_, 1863. - - * * * * * - - -EXEXOLOR. - - The shades of night had fallen (_at last!_) - When from the Eagle Tavern pass'd - A youth, who bore, in manual vice, - A pot of something monstrous nice-- - XX--oh lor! - - His brow was bad--his young eye scann'd - The frothing flagon in his hand, - And like a gurgling streamlet sprung - The accents to that thirsty tongue, - XX--oh lor! - - In happy homes he saw them grub - On stout, and oysters from a tub,-- - The dismal gas-light gleamed without, - And from his lips escaped a shout, - "XX--oh lor!" - - "Young man," the Sage observ'd, "just stay, - And let me dip my beak, I say, - The pewter is deep, and I am dry!" - "Perceiv'st thou verdure in my eye? - XX--oh lor!" - - "Oh stop," the maiden cried, "and lend - Thy beery burden here, my friend--" - Th' unbidden tear regretful rose, - But still his thumb-tip sought his nose; - XX--oh lor! - - "Beware the gutter at thy feet! - Beware the Dragons of the street! - Beware lest thirsty Bob you meet!" - This was the ultimate remark; - A voice replied far thro' the dark, - "XX--oh lor!" - - That night, by watchmen on their round, - The person in a ditch was found; - Still grasping in his manual vice, - That pot--once fill'd with something nice-- - XX--oh lor!!! - -From Mr. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell's _Puck on Pegasus_ (Chatto and Windus.) - - * * * * * - - -THE THEATRE. - - "_Nam quae pervincere voces Evaluere sonum referunt quem - nostra Theatra?_" - -I. - - The theatre was filling fast, - As through the open door there passed - A stranger with a scarlet tie, - That instantly provoked the cry - Of "Turn him out!" - -II. - - His nose was red, his lips beneath, - In frequent smiles disclosed his teeth, - And upward when he turned his eye, - In ceaseless hubbub came the cry, - "Ugh! Turn him out!" - -III. - - "Stay, stay," a master said, "and rest, - The 'Vice' cares little how you're dressed," - But loud from undergraduate lung - The cry continually rung, - "Ugh! Turn him out!" - -IV. - - The public orator began - To spout his Latin like a man; - His lips moved fast, but not a word - Was audible; we only heard, - "Ugh! Turn him out!" - -V. - - The Gaisford and the Newdigate - And Stanhope shared no better fate; - No single voice could drown the cry - That roared out from the gallery, - "Ugh! Turn him out!" - -VI. - - The 'Vice' rose up from off his chair, - And raised his finger in the air, - And gently strove the noise to quell, - But louder came the ceaseless yell, - "Ugh! Turn him out." - -VII. - - I left the place with aching brain, - And deafened ear that throbbed again, - And as I sauntered down the High, - Upon the breeze I heard the cry, - "Ugh! Turn him out!" - - _Lays of Modern Oxford_ (Chapman and Hall, 1874.) - - -EXCELSIOR. - - The price of meat was rising fast, - As to his daily duty passed - A toiler who, with bitter laugh, - Had read upon his _Telegraph_, - Excelsior! - - His brow was sad; because it bore - A costlier hat than e'er before: - His feet were sadder; he'd to pay - For boots that quickly wore away, - Excelsior! - - In oyster shops he saw the shells - Wherein the luscious bivalve dwells, - But had no chance of shelling out, - And murmured, as he dreamt of stout, - Excelsior! - - "Try this rump-steak!" the butcher said; - "At Tillyfour the ox was bred; - Juicy it is, M'Combie's pride, - And only one-and-six." He sighed-- - Excelsior! - - "Stay!" cried a maiden of the bar, - "A shilling buys a good cigar-- - Ten more some icy dry champagne." - He shook his head and cried again, - Excelsior! - - "Take comfort," said a Hebrew mild; - "I love to help a Christian child. - My moderate terms are cent. per cent. - 'Twas sixty once," he thought, and went-- - Excelsior! - - At dead of night that wayward youth, - So saddened by the eternal truth, - Was by a pious peeler found, - Who kindly raised him from the ground, - Excelsior! - - He uttered words that can't be told, - Said eating game was eating gold, - Showered maledictions on the souls - Of those who raise the price of coals-- - Excelsior! - - When morning shone upon the town, - He had to pay five shillings down, - And blessed the rulers of the skies - The price of Justice does not rise, - Excelsior! - - MORTIMER COLLINS. - -_The London Magazine_, February, 1876. - - * * * * * - - -"CLEAN YOUR DOOR-STEP, MARM?" - - The shades of night were some time past, - And snow had fallen thick and fast; - A youth, who broom and shovel bore, - Was heard to call outside the door, - "Clean your doorstep, Marm?" - - In happy homes he saw the light - Of household fires gleam warm and bright, - The singing kettle brightly shone-- - Again, again, his well-known tone-- - "Clean your doorstep, Marm?" - - His brow was sad--his chilly nose, - Like fiery coals, glow'd in the snows, - And, as the kitchen bell he rang, - In accents clear he loudly sang, - "Clean your doorstep, Marm?" - - "Oh, stay," the girl said, "while I see, - As I takes up the toast and tea; - And if your charge is not too high"-- - "A tanner's all," the poor boy's cry, - "To clean your doorstep, Marm?" - - He set to work with all his might, - But suddenly went out of sight;-- - Half-buried in the coals was found - The youth who sang that piteous sound, - "Clean your doorstep, Marm?" - - Some rascal in the night had twigged, - The coal-iron loose, which he had prigged, - "If I'd a know'd a hole was there, - I would o' coorse ha' took more care - Cleaning your doorstep, Marm?" - - * * * * * - - -YE MAYDEN AND YE EGGE. - - The shades of night were gone--at last, - As, all agog to break her fast, - A maiden sat, 'mid kith and kin, - While bent, impatient to begin, - _Egg-shell she o'er_. - - _Ye Paterfamilias._ - His brow was staid; his eyes beneath - Were closed. Not so his lips and teeth, - Whence, like a copper clarion rung - "Grace before meat." Still, listening, hung - _Egg-shell she o'er_. - - _Hys remonstrance._ - "Try not the egg!" the "old man" cried, - "Dark lowers some prodigy inside! - What if fowl play?"--no more he said, - For her protecting fingers spread - _Egg-shell she o'er_. - - _Ye Mayden_--_her Prayer._ - "Stay, Pa!" the maiden said, "let's test - Your query, ere upon this breast - You anguish pile." Her moistening eye - Here drooped, and struggled with a sigh, - _Egg-shell she o'er_. - - _Ye Fynde._ - At break of shell, as chickenward - (For aught she knew) her spoon she stirred, - A something stubborn claimed a stare. - "My brooch!" cried with a startled air, - _Egg-shell she o'er_. - - _Ye Ende._ - There in the middle--so they say-- - Hard, but albuminous it lay. - And, when she grew serener, far, - Fished the thing up, with "dear old star!" - _Egg-shell she o'er_. - -This ingenious but rather mad parody appeared in _The Figaro_ of May 6, -1876. - - -THOSE HORRID SCHOOLS. - -I. - - The shades of night were falling fast, - As through the quad a gownsman passed, - Whose seedy look and sunken cheek - Bespoke as plain as words could speak, - "Those horrid schools!" - -II. - - His coat was worn; his bags beneath - Were quite too short his legs to sheath, - While like a penny trumpet rung - The treble of that mournful tongue, - "Those horrid schools!" - -III. - - In happy homes he left the light - Of household fires both warm and bright; - Before the spectral "Great Go" shone, - And from his lips escaped a groan, - "Those horrid schools!" - -IV. - - "Try but to pass," his tutor said, - "A class is not within your head. - The yawning gulf is deep and wide!" - But still that treble voice replied, - "Those horrid schools!" - -V. - - "Oh stay!" the maiden said, "and rest - Thy learned head upon my breast!" - A tear stood in his sunken eye, - He blushed, and answered, looking shy, - "Those horrid schools!" - -VI. - - "Beware tobacco's withered plant! - Beware of vinous stimulant!" - This was the gov'nor's last good-bye, - A voice replied, from out the fly, - "Those horrid schools!" - -VII. - - At break of day, as through the gloom - The scout when going from room to room, - Uttered the oft repeated call, - A voice came from the bedroom small, - "Those horrid schools!" - -VIII. - - The poor young sap asleep quite sound, - Half buried in the sheets was found, - Still grasping, nibbled by the mice, - An Ethics with the strange device, - "Those horrid schools!" - -IX. - - There in the twilight, cold and grey, - Dirty, unwashen, there he lay, - While from his scout the sentence flowed, - "Oh drat those books--them schools be blowed, - "Them 'orrid schools!" - - _College Rhymes_, 1861 - - -THAT THIRTY-FOUR. - -(The following parody was selected for a prize in a competition, by the -editor of _Truth_, and appeared in that paper on November 25th, 1880. It -refers to the American puzzle, called "Thirty-four," which was then very -popular). - - Chill August's storms were piping loud, - When through a gaping London crowd, - There passed a youth, who still was heard - To mutter the perplexing word, - "That Thirty-four!" - - His eyes were wild; his brow above - Was crumpled like an old kid glove; - And like some hoarse crow's grating note - That word still quivered in his throat, - "That Thirty-four!" - - "Oh, give it up!" his comrades said, - "It only muddles your poor head; - It is not worth your finding out." - He answered with a wailing shout, - "That Thirty-four!" - - "Art not content," the maiden said, - "To solve the 'Fifteen' one instead?" - He paused-his tearful eyes he dried-- - Gulped down a sob, then sadly sighed, - "That Thirty-four!" - - At midnight, on their high resort, - The cats were startled at their sport, - To hear, beneath one roof, a tone - Gasp out, betwixt a snore and groan, - "That Thirty-four!" - - * * * * * - - -TOBACCO SMOKE! - - The clouds or smoke were rising fast, - As through a college room there passed - A youth who bore, 'spite sage advice, - A "baccy"-pouch with strange device, - "Tobacco smoke!" - - His brow was sad; his eye beneath - Stared on a pipe, laid in its sheath, - And in his ears there ever rung - The accents of the donor's tongue, - "Tobacco smoke!" - - * * * * * - - "Try not the shag!" the old man said, - It is o'er strong for thy young head, - Dire its effects to those untried - Heedless he was, and but replied, - "Tobacco smoke!" - - "Oh, stay," the maiden said, "and test - Our Latakia--'tis the best!" - He grasped his packet of birds'-eye, - And only muttered with a sigh, - "Tobacco smoke!" - - "Beware; don't set your room alight-- - The college might object--good-night!" - Such were the words the scholar spoke, - And scarcely heard through closing oak, - "Tobacco smoke!" - - That Freshman by his scout was found - Lying all prone upon the ground, - And still his hand grasped like a vice - The "baccy"-pouch with strange device, - "Tobacco smoke!" - * * * * * - R. C., Oxford. - -_College Rhymes_, 1864. - - * * * * * - - -"OBSTRUCTIONISTS." - - (_By a Lover of Longfellow, after spending Twenty-six Hours - in the House of Commons._) - - The shades of night were falling fast, - As through St. Stephen's portals passed - An Irish band, not over nice, - Whose banners bore the strange device-- - "Obstructionists!" - - Each brow was sad, each eye beneath - Glared at Cavan, Dungarvan, Meath; - And soon in Erin's brogue was heard - Again their policy absurd-- - "Obstructionists!" - - * * * * * - - "Tempt not the Commons," Northcote said, - "Dark lowers the tempest overhead; - Too long its rules have been defied;" - But still the Irish rowdies cried-- - "Obstructionists!" - - * * * * * - - "Beware the Ministerial branch-- - Beware the Tory avalanche!" - Was Biggar's caution, and he smiled, - When for a nap he left the wild - "Obstructionists!" - - At noon that day O'Donnell craved - A respite, but the Commons braved - The contest, and their only prayer - Was to demolish then and there-- - "Obstructionists!" - - The chaplain came his usual round, - The Commons sitting still he found, - Using each possible device - To crush that band, not over nice-- - "Obstructionists!" - - But late on that eventful day - The "stumbling blocks" were kicked away; - South Africa rejoiced afar, - And Biggar moaned, "It's done we are!"-- - "Obstructionists!" - - _Funny Folks._ - - * * * * * - - -ENDYMION. - - The shades of night were falling fast - Round Hughenden,--for some time past - A Statesman, working day and night, - A flowery fiction did indite-- - _Endymion_. - - His hair was dark, and you could trace - A soupçon of an ancient race; - And still, in quite his early way, - He wrote of Lords and Ladies gay-- - _Endymion_. - - "Tempt not the Press," Lord Rowton said. - "Of critics have a timely dread: - They skinned you when you wrote _Lothair_." - He answered, with his nose in air, - "_Endymion!_" - - "Oh stay," the Tory said, "and make - That wicked GLADSTONE writhe and quake." - A twinkle flash'd from out his eye: - "I'll give him rope," he said, "and try - _Endymion!_" - - "Beware the day they may begin - To break the Treaty of Berlin!" - This was the Tory's last appeal. - He only said, "I will reveal - _Endymion!_" - - And so, when Ireland was aflame, - The Eastern Question just the same, - Conservatives beheld with doubt - Their Leader bring his novel out-- - _Endymion_. - - And all who waded through the book, - Met Titles, Tailor, Prince and Dook: - What wonder it is all the rage? - For epigram adorns thy page, - _Endymion!_ - - There, in the twilight, cold and grey, - Serene in Curzon Street he lay. - "This cheque from LONGMANS' will go far," - A voice said. "Now for a cigar!" - _Endymion!_ - - _Punch_, December 4, 1880. - - * * * * * - - -A "COMMON" GRIEVANCE; OR, OUR OPEN SPACES AND OUR ÆDILES. - - The summer day was waning fast, - As o'er a London heath there pass'd - A youth who walked with steps precise, - And murmured, more than once or twice, - "The Heath is ours!" - - His eyes flashed brightly in his head, - Till, as the notice-boards he read, - His cheeks for one short moment blenched, - but soon he cried, with fingers clenched, - "The Heath is ours!" - - Then he recalled the large amount - The people'd paid that they might count - That Heath their own, and then again - He shouted out, with might and main, - "The Heath is ours!" - - As thus he cried, a keeper came, - And roughly said, "Young man! Your name? - I'll summons you for spouting here!" - "Bah," cried the youth, "I have no fear-- - The Heath is ours!" - - The liveried myrmidon but jeered, - "Well, that's the queerest tale I've heerd; - This 'eath's been taken by our Board." - Much moved, the youth in answer roared, - "The Heath is ours!" - - "Rouse not his ire," an old man said; - "You have not, p'rhaps, the by-laws read? - Alas! he's might upon his side." - "Go to!" the eager youth replied, - "The Heath is ours!" - - "O stay!" a maiden said, "nor pass - In that mad way across the grass! - You will be fined. Oh, please don't go!" - "Thanks!" cried the youth, "but I must show - The Heath is ours!" - - * * * * * - - Then, rising 'gainst crass Bumble's yoke, - He every stupid by-law broke, - And when stern keepers asked his name, - Still loud the self-same answer came: - "The Heath is ours!" - - As evening fell, a tottering form, - All heedless of the gathering storm, - Defied each notice-board he passed, - And cried--determined to the last: - "The Heath is ours!" - - * * * * * - - A youth, when next the sun came round, - Buried in summonses was found; - Still gasping, as yet more were served, - In accents, feeble and unnerved: - "The Heath is ours!" - - * * * * * - - There to the Police Court brought next day, - He'd many pounds and costs to pay; - And from his lips no more was heard - That cry he'd learned was so absurd: - "The Heath is ours!" - - _Truth_, August 2, 1883. - - * * * * * - -The following description of an unpleasant nocturnal adventure has been -written especially for this collection:-- - - The shades of night were falling fast, - One mile from town was Knightsbridge passed, - We found ourselves (it was not nice) - Tripped up by two men in a trice, - And felt so sore! - - Our brow was muddy, as beneath - Their pressure we could scarce draw breath, - Our "withers" seemed to be unwrung. - As we were in the gutter flung, - And felt so sore! - - We never shall forget that night - Rising in pitiable plight, - We found our jewellery gone, - Ourselves a sight to look upon, - We felt so sore! - - "Try not to pass!" they might have said. - Alas! they tripped us up instead. - Such warning was to us denied, - And stretched upon the pavement wide, - We felt so sore! - - "Oh, stay a moment, that arrest - May police vigilance attest," - Was what we were inclined to cry, - But we could only heave a sigh-- - We felt so sore! - - Beware a court, where the roads branch, - Be wary, lest an avalanche - Of blows should, when out late at night, - On your poor occiput alight, - We felt so sore! - - They ran away with watch and guard, - And left us on the pavement hard, - Whilst we to follow did not dare, - Because we had no breath to spare-- - We felt so sore! - - No passers by to make a sound, - And not a "peeler" to be found. - Still gasping from their hands of _vice_, - Glad to escape at any price, - We felt so sore! - - Then all at once we cried "hooray!" - Here comes a "Bobby" on his way. - A LONG FELLOW we spied afar, - And mentally exclaimed, "Ha! ha!" - Excelsior. - - T. F. DILLON CROKER. - - * * * * * - -A courteous correspondent has forwarded a little pamphlet, which was -issued by Enoch Morgan, Sons, and Co., New York, about three years ago. -It has some quaintly comical _silhouette_ illustrations, beneath each of -which is one of the following verses:-- - - The shades of night were falling fast, - As through an Eastern village passed - A youth who bore, through dust and heat, - A stencil plate, that read complete-- - SAPOLIO! - - His brow was sad, but underneath, - White with "Odonto" shone his teeth. - And through them hissed the words, "Well, blow - Me tight if here is 'ary show!" - SAPOLIO! - - On household fences, gleaming bright, - Shone "Gargling Oil," in black and white. - Once "Bixby's Blacking" stood alone, - He straight beside it clapped his own-- - SAPOLIO! - - "Try not my fence," the old man said, - "With 'Mustang Liniment' 'tis spread, - Another vacant spot thar ain't," - He answered with a dash of paint-- - SAPOLIO! - - "O, stay," the maiden said, "a rest - Pray give us! What with 'Bixby's Best,' - And 'Simmons' Pills,' we're like to die." - He only answered, "Will you try-- - SAPOLIO?" - - "Beware them Peaks! That wall so bright - Is but a snow bank, gleaming white, - Your paint won't stick!"; came the reply, - "I've done it! How is that for high?" - "SAPOLIO." - - One Sabbath morn, as heavenward - White mountain tourists slowly spurred, - On ev'ry rock to their dismay, - They read that legend strange, alway - "SAPOLIO." - - There on the summit, old and fat, - Shameless, but vigorous he sat, - While on their luggage as they passed, - He checked that word, from first to last, - "SAPOLIO." - - * * * * * - -Advertising parodies of _Excelsior_ abound. Extracts from a few of the -best are given below:-- - - -13, CROSS CHEAPING. - - The shades of night were falling fast, - As through the ancient city passed, - A youth who scorned to pause or stop, - Until he reached that noted shop, - 13, CROSS CHEAPING. - - In happy homes he saw the light, - Of household fires gleam warm and bright; - He heeded not the cheerful coal, - But strode straight onward to his goal, - 13, CROSS CHEAPING. - - "Beware of rain," an old man said, - "Dark lowers the tempest overhead," - The youth made quite a little speech, - "I fear no rain if once I reach - 13, CROSS CHEAPING." - - "Oh stay," a maiden said, "and rest; - Put not your strength to further test," - A smile lurked in his bright blue eye, - And merrily he made reply: - "13, CROSS CHEAPING." - - "Once safely there, I shall forget - My tired feet, and dread of wet; - Whilst buying where I've bought before; - Whilst choosing from that well-filled store, - 13, CROSS CHEAPING." - - "Their BOOTS have richly earned their fame; - Their SHOES have gained an envied name; - What matters mud, however thick, - When once your feet are shod by DICK, - 13, CROSS CHEAPING." - - -PILOSAGINE. - - The shades of night were falling fast, - When on the word his eyes he cast-- - That word which struck him with amaze-- - Couched in the adverts' meant to praise. - PILOSAGINE. - - Sleep from his eyelids fastly fled, - As to himself he wondering said: - "If it be true that I can buy - What will produce a beard, I'll try - PILOSAGINE." - - * * * * * - - "Tempt not the trash," in tones full rough, - His father urged, "Like other stuff - That you have oft and often tried - 'Tis sure to prove." The youth replied, - "PILOSAGINE." - - PILOSAGINE at once applied, - The wished-for three for which he sighed, - Imperial, beard, moustache, soon felt; - And thankful is he that e'er he spelt - PILOSAGINE. - - * * * * * - -I. - - The drizzling rain was falling fast, - As thro' the streets of London passed - A youth who bore a neat and nice - Umbrella with the strange device, - "THE IMPERCEPTIBLE." - -II. - - His step was firm, erect his form, - As heedless of the gathering storm - He homeward hied with dauntless mien - Beneath that elemental screen-- - "THE IMPERCEPTIBLE." - -III. - - He saw umbrellas creased and torn, - By wet and angry persons borne, - And sorrowing o'er their wretched plight, - He pitied those who lacked that night - "THE IMPERCEPTIBLE." - -IV. - - "Best try a cab," an old friend said; - "Dark lowers the tempest overhead. - The rain will faster fall anon;" - But still that youth relied upon - "THE IMPERCEPTIBLE." - -V. - - "O stay," a maiden said, "I'd fain - Ask a brief shelter from the rain." - The astonished youth gazed at the fair, - And gently answered, "You may share, - "THE IMPERCEPTIBLE." - - * * * * * - - -OZOKERIT. - - (_By a Long-way-after-a-Fellow-Poet._) - - The shades of night were falling fast, - When through a western suburb passed - A man who bore upon his back - A placard, with this word in black-- - "OZOKERIT." - - His brow was dark, his eye beneath - Gleamed like a lantern o'er his teeth, - Which gnashing ceaselessly he sung - That fragment of an unknown tongue-- - "OZOKERIT." - - In humble homes he saw the light - Of candles--if anything less bright - Above, the glimmering gas lamps shone, - The contrast wrung from him a groan. - "OZOKERIT." - - "Trust not the gas," the old man said, - "Dingy and dull the lamps o'er head-- - The illumination is ill supplied," - But loud that sandwich bearer cried, - "OZOKERIT." - - "O stay," the maiden said, "or rest - Until your mystery is guessed!" - A wink obscured his cunning eye, - As still he mentioned in reply-- - "OZOKERIT." - - Beware the peeler, stern and staunch, - With bull's-eye pendant at his haunch. - This was the pleasant last "Good-day," - A voice replied, some streets away, - "OZOKERIT." - - At break of day, while reeled along, - Shouting their oft repeated song. - Some "Jolly Dogs," with blinking stare, - They heard a voice ring through the air, - "OZOKERIT." - - The speaking, tracing by the sound, - They, sitting on a doorstep, found - A man, who bore upon his back - A placard, with that word in black, - "OZOKERIT." - - There on the doorstep, cold and flat, - Puzzled by pondering he sat; - And with the hoarseness of catarrh, - He sighed, "I wonders what it are!" - "OZOKERIT." - - From _Fun_, October 22, 1870. - - * * * * * - - -CURFEW. - -I. - - Solemnly, mournfully - Dealing its dole, - The Curfew Bell - Is beginning to toll. - - Cover the embers, - And put out the light, - Toil comes with the morning, - And rest with the night. - - Dark grow the windows, - And quenched is the fire, - Sound fades into silence,-- - All footsteps retire. - - No voice in the chambers, - No sound in the hall! - Sleep and oblivion - Reign over all! - - LONGFELLOW. - - * * * * * - - -CLOSE OF THE SEASON. - -I. - - Suddenly, joyfully, - Leaving the Row, - The London Belle - Is beginning to go. - - Cover the couches - And shut out the light, - Calls cease in the morning, - And parties at night. - - Closed are the windows, - And out is the fire. - The knockers are silent - All footmen retire. - - No groom in the chambers, - No porter in hall: - Dust and brown holland - Reign over all! - -II. - - The season is ended, - And closed like the play, - And the swells that adorned it - Vanish away. - - Dim grow its dances, - Forgotten they'll be, - Like the ends of cigars, - Thrown into the sea. - - Squares lapse into silence, - The Railways are full - The windows are papered, - The West End is dull. - - Fewer and fewer - The people to call - Sweeps and the charwoman, - Reign over all. - - * * * * * - - -THE END. - - Tuesday, September 7, 1880. - - (_A Vague Reminiscence of Longfellow._) - - Tardily, wearily, - Reacheth its goal - The Session of '80, - Tired old soul! - - Cover the benches, - And put out the light; - Divisions are over, - And sittings all night. - - The bells are all dumb, - And idle the wire; - Rant sinks into silence, - Reporters retire. - - Fewer and fewer - The few footsteps fall; - Quiet and Constables - Reign over all! - - _Punch_, September 18, 1880. - - * * * * * - - -THE BRIDGE. - - I stood on the bridge at midnight, - As the clocks were striking the hour, - And the moon rose o'er the city, - Behind the dark-church tower. - - * * * * * - - How often, oh, how often, - In the days that had gone by, - I had stood on the bridge at midnight - And gazed on that wave and sky! - - LONGFELLOW. - - -THE BRIDGE (By _Longus Socius_.) - - I stood on the bridge at midday, - And the crowd was striking in power, - And the roar rose from the City, - And the docks about the Tower. - - And I made a bright reflection - On the waters under me, - Like a muddy highway flowing - With steamers to the sea. - - * * * * * - - How often, oh, how often, - In omnibus or fly, - I have crossed the bridge at midday, - When you hardly could get by. - - How often, oh, how often - I have wished the crowd beside - Were at Jericho or elsewhere, - Or the pathways were more wide. - - For my heart was hot and restless, - And my mind was full of care, - Lest the train I wished to go by - Might start 'ere I got there. - - * * * * * - - And I think how many thousand - Of crowd-encumbered men, - Each striving to stem the current, - Have missed their trains since then. - - I see the long processions - Of the cabs and the 'busses go, - And the eager people restless, - Because they must walk so slow. - - And for ever, and for ever, - For all that a party knows, - As long as the cabs and the 'busses - Must pause with their frequent "whoas," - - To cross it in either direction - Will take an hour or near, - So you simply must start at eleven, - If by twelve you would cross it clear. - - _Fun_, November 3, 1866. - - * * * * * - - -THE RINK. - - _Respectfully Dedicated to the Author of "The Bridge."_ - - I sat in the Rink at midday; - The clocks were striking the hour, - But you would not have known, for the April sun - Was quenched in a copious shower. - - I saw the raindrops falling - In puddles in the street, - And I envied the throng that was passing along - With wet, but unrollered feet. - - And far in the hazy distance - Of that dripping April day, - My snug hearth fire gleam'd redder and higher, - Because I was far away. - - The rattle of wheels rang round me, - With a quaint and wooden roar, - And groups of the fair, with dishevelled hair, - Were lying about on the floor. - - E'en I, in a moment of madness, - Had snatched at the fatal cup. - And my rollers were on, but I sat all alone, - For alas! I could not get up. - - And like those rinkers rolling - Amongst their woodon piers, - A flood of thoughts came o'er me - That filled my eyes with tears. - - How often, oh, how often, - In the days that had gone by, - I had waltzed in that room at midnight, - With a fixed and a vacant eye. - - How often, oh, how often, - I had wished that a cab from afar, - Would bear me away in its bosom - To my rooms, and a mild cigar. - - For my limbs were hot and restless, - And my boots a serious care, - And the burden of mild flirtation, - Seemed greater than I could bear. - - But now it is changed and vanished, - It has fallen over the brink; - Before, we were sad, but now we are mad, - And the ball-room is turned to a rink. - - Yet whenever I watch these rinkers - Amongst their wooden piers, - Like the sound of April raindrops, - Comes the thought of other years. - - And I think how many thousands - Of skate-encumbered men, - Each bearing his burden of ladies, - Have rinked on this floor since then. - - I see the long procession, - Still tottering to and fro, - The young feet clumsy and rapid, - The old feet clumsy and slow. - - And for ever, and for ever, - As long as the raindrops fall, - As long as we've angling ladies, - (And angular too) at all, - - The Rink and its ceaseless rollers, - And its broken limbs, shall appear - As the symbol of Bedlam's madness - And its accurate image here! - - KIT NUBBLES - -_The Figaro_, June 14, 1876. - - * * * * * - - -THE WHITEFRIARGATE BRIDGE. - -I. - - I stood on the bridge at midnight, - As "Travis" was striking the hour; - And the moon rose o'er the city - Aslant the Dock Co.'s tower. - -II. - - I stood and recalled how savage, - In the day that's just gone by, - I was stopped by that bridge at midday, - And watched it raised on high. - -III. - - For my heart was hot and restless, - My business full of care; - And the check thus put upon me - Seemed longer than I could bear. - -IV. - - - And I thought how many thousands - Of work-encumbered men, - On hearing the bell a-ringing, - Have cursed this bridge since then. - -V. - - I see the long procession - Still pacing to and fro-- - The master, the clerk, the workman; - The Dockmen, officious and slow. - -VI. - - And forever, and forever, - As long as the Company goes, - As long as we brook the fashion - Of transit, and bow to our woes. - -VII. - - So long we shall lose our appointments, - So long by our spouses be told - That we're ten minutes late as usual, - And our dinner is getting cold. - - _The Whitefriargate Papers_, Hull, February 17, 1872. - - * * * * * - - -SUNSET. - - (_An Imitation._) - - I stood on the shore at even, - And I looked out into the west, - Out over the pathless ocean, - As the sun sank down to rest. - - I saw him dip into the billows, - And the sea was one blaze of light, - As if day's expiring effort - Was to blacken the darkness of night. - - From my feet to the far horizon - Was a golden sparkling road, - A type of the path that leads us - From earth to God's abode. - - As darkness fell on the waters, - I heard the sea-birds' cry, - And the mighty ocean answered - With its waves in an endless sigh. - - Then I thought how like the sunlight - We find our hopes depart, - And the ocean's endless sighing - Found an echo in my heart. - - F. W. D., St. Alban Hall. - -_College Rhymes_ (T. Shrimpton and Sons, Oxford), 1873. - - * * * * * - - -THE SLAVE'S DREAM. - - Beside the ungathered rice he lay, - His sickle in his hand; - His breast was bare, his matted hair - Was buried in the sand, - Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, - He saw his Native Land - - * * * * * - - The forests, with their myriad tongues, - Shouted of liberty: - And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud, - With a voice so wild and free, - That be started in his sleep, and smiled - At their tempestuous glee. - - He did not feel the driver's whip, - Nor the burning heat of day; - For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep, - And his lifeless body lay - A worn-out fetter, that the soul - Had broken and thrown away! - - LONGFELLOW. - - * * * * * - - -THE SWELL'S DREAM; OR, WHAT HIS HEIR WOULD LIKE TO BRING ABOUT. - - (_Dedicated by a Shortman to a Longfellow._) - -I. - - Beside an untouched ice he lay, - An eighteenpenny cigar in his hand, - He shook his hair with an angry air - At the sound of a distant band. - Then he dreamt in the mist and shadow of sleep - He was a beggar in the Strand. - -II. - - Wide through his frock-coat's gaping seams - His fancy shirting showed; - He had no gloves, no crutchy cane, - No nosegay _a la mode;_ - And he saw a man, with a tinkling pan, - Crying m-u-lk all down the road! - -III. - - He felt quite sore, and very lean, - His face was sadly tanned; - His bones stuck out on both his cheeks, - And he could hardly stand. - A tear dropped from the sleeper's lids, - His Havanna from his hand. - -IV. - - And then the dismal vision showed - The way in which he sank; - From golden chains, to aches and pains, - With no balance at the bank. - For this woe he could feel, and it caused him to reel, - He had but himself to thank. - -V. - - From a popular man, dubbed a wit and a wag, - To a pauper without a _sous;_ - From morn till night, like an unhappy wight, - Cut or shunned by all he knew. - And this was his fate, by stopping up late, - And losing his money at "loo!" - -VI. - - How he had wasted his time and his tin - By keeping and driving a team. - The care and the cash he had spent on his weeds, - All this he saw in his dream. - And, as his thoughts sped, the blood in his head - Curdled up like so much cream. - -VII. - - He thought of the good he might have done - For love and charity; - And with anguish bowed, he cried out aloud - A word that began with a "d!" - He started and woke--and exceedingly riled, - Rang the bell for a Soda and B. - -VIII. - - How did he feel as he took out his watch, - And consulted the time of day? - Had he learnt a lesson from the Land of Sleep? - I hope for my sake he may! - And I think the moral _did_ reach its goal, - For he's got quite stingy they say. - -From _Cribblings from the Poets_ (Jones and Piggott, Cambridge, 1883). - - * * * * * - - -SONG OF THE SILENT LAND. - - Into the Silent Land! - Ah! who shall lead us thither? - Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, - And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. - Who leads us with a gentle hand - Thither, O thither, - Into the Silent Land? - - LONGFELLOW. - - * * * * * - - -SONG OF THE IRISH LAND! - -(_After Longfellow and Salis._) - - Into the Irish Land! - Ah! who shall lead us thither? - Clouds in the Western sky less darkly gather, - And household wrecks less thickly dot the strand. - Who leads us with a friendly hand, - Thither, oh thither, - Into the Irish Land? - - O Land! O Land! - For which poor Pat hath plotted, - GLADSTONE, mild herald by kind fate allotted, - Beckons, and with his blessed Bill doth stand, - To lead us with a friendly hand - Into the Land whence we've long been parted, - Into the Irish Land! - - _Punch_, August 13, 1881. - -In _Punch_ of October 21, 1882, there was another parody of this poem, -entitled "Song of the Oyster Land," by a _Longing Fellow_, commencing-- - - "Into the Oyster Land! - Ah! Who shall lead us thither?" - - * * * * * - - -THE NORMAN BARON. - - In his chamber, weak and dying, - Was the Norman baron lying; - Loud without the tempest thundered, - And the castle-turret shook. - In this fight was Death the gainer, - Spite of vassal and retainer, - And the lands his sires had plundered, - Written in the Doomsday Book. - - * * * * * - - Every vassal of his banner, - Every serf born to his manor, - All those wronged and wretched creatures - By his hand were freed again. - And, as on the sacred missal - He recorded their dismissal, - Death relaxed his iron features, - And the monk replied, "Amen!" - Many centuries have been numbered - Since in death the baron slumbered - By the convent's sculptured portal. - Mingling with the common dust. - But the good deed, through the ages - Living in historic pages, - Brighter grows and gleams immortal, - Unconsumed by moth or rust. - - LONGFELLOW. - - * * * * * - - -THE REPENTANT BARON. - - A Lay of Berlin. - - (_After Professor Shortfellow._) - - In his chamber, mine adjoining, - Was the German Baron dining. - Loud his voice with passion thundered, - And with fear the kellner shook. - As I listened it was plainer - That he bullied this retainer, - Forasmuch as he had blundered; - Or it might have been the cook. - - Just outside, upon the Linden, - On an instrument (a wind 'un) - Played a minstrel most demurely, - Dismal as the parish waits. - And so loud he kept on getting, - While his frau stood by him, knitting, - That I thought, "The Baron, surely, - Will demolish all the plates." - - "Spare a groschen, princely stranger! - May you never be in danger - Of the want of means to spare 'un, - Or a couple, if so be." - Then the minstrel went on playing, - Not a single word more saying; - And exclaimed the shuddering Baron, - "_Miserere Domine!_" - - Tears upon his eyelids glistened - While in agony he listened - To the instrument (a wind 'un) - Which the minstrel he did play. - Then unto the kellner ready, - "Take this double thaler," said he, - To the minstrel of the Linden, - Begging him to go away." - - In that hour of deep contrition - He beheld with double vision - All the sins he had committed, - And he said in accents thick - To the kellner, "Loo' here, kellner, - You're a 'spec'ble kind o' felner; - _I'm_ a felner to be pitied; - I'm a mis'ble felner! Hic. - - "Can you feel for one in sorrow? - I shall make my will to-morrow; - I shall leave you all my money, - Every single thing that's mine. - Watch--repeater; ring--carbuncle; - Kellner you're my long-lost uncle. - Just discovered this--how funny! - Fesh another bolowine." - - Many hours the clock has numbered - Since the German Baron slumbered; - And his boots are at the portal - Of his chamber, free from dust; - And an instrument (a wind 'un) - Sounds again upon the Linden, - Waking that unhappy mortal - From the snorings of the just. - - GODFREY TURNER. - - _Tom Hood's Comic Annual_, 1871. - - * * * * * - - -Longfellow's ballad, _The Skeleton in Armour_ commences thus:-- - - "Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! - Who, with thy hollow breast - Still in rude armour drest, - Comest to daunt me! - Wrapt not in Eastern balms, - But with thy fleshless palms - Stretched, as if asking alms, - Why dost thou haunt me?" - -its metre was admirably imitated by the late C. S. Calverley, in his - - -ODE TO TOBACCO. - - Thou who, when fears attack - Bidst them avaunt, and Black - Care, at the horseman's back, - Perching, unseatest; - Sweet when the morn is grey; - Sweet when they've cleared away - Lunch, and at close of day - Possibly sweetest. - I have a liking old - For thee, though manifold - Stories, I know are told, - Not to thy credit. - - * * * * * - - Cats may have had their goose - Cooked by tobacco juice; - Still why deny its use - Thoughtfully taken? - We're not as tabbies are: - Smith take a fresh cigar! - Jones, the tobacco jar! - Here's to thee, Bacon! - -From C. S. Calverley's _Verses and Translations_ (George Bell and Sons). - - * * * * * - - -THE DERBY WEEK. - - (_A Long Way After a Longfellow._) - - Oh, Derby week, oh, Derby week, how precious are thy pleasures! - Not hymned alone in summer-time - With hoarse enthusiastic rhyme, - Oh, Derby week, oh, Derby week, but hailed in pewtern measures! - - Oh, Derby week, oh, Derby week, how coarse the cads who "put on" - Their three half-crowns for Insulaire, - Or intimate Sir Joseph's "square." - Oh, Derby week, oh, Derby week--as if I cared a button! - - Saturnian feasts, Saturnian feasts, you ape, despite Dame Grundy. - We laugh until the dread bell rings, - But oh, the aches to-morrow brings, - And Derby week, and Derby week, that reckoning on the Monday! - - The welsher's book, the welsher's book, is mirror of thy glories: - It's ready when _their_ horse comes in, - But somewhat muddled when _you_ win. - The welsher's book, the welsher's book, whips Black's in point of - stories! - - So Derby week, oh, Derby week, your usual style, we think, errs, - In ending in too cheerful nights, - Headaches and debts, green veils and fights, - And Derby week, oh, Derby week, Dutch dolls and British drinkers. - - _Funny Folks_, June 8, 1878. - - * * * * * - -The following are parodies of the "Saga of King Olaf," contained in -Longfellow's "Tales of a Wayside Inn":-- - - -QUEEN SIGRID THE HAUGHTY. - - (_A Longfellow Cut Short._) - - Queen Sigrid the Haughty sat proud and aloft, - In her chamber that looked over meadow and croft; - She held in her hand a ring of gold - That was brought to her by a henchman old. - King Olaf had sent her that wedding gift; - But knowing King Olaf was prone to thrift, - She gave the ring to her goldsmiths twain, - Who smiled as they handed it back again. - Then Sigrid the Queen in her haughty way, - Asked, "Why do you smile, my goldsmiths, pray?" - They answered, "Queen, if the truth be told, - The ring is Brummagem--'t isn't gold!" - The colour flushed over forehead and cheek, - She simply stamped--but she did not speak. - A footstep rang on the outer stair, - And in strode Olaf with royal air. - He kissed her hand, and he whispered love, - And (just for the rhyme) he murmured "Dove!" - She smiled with contempt as she said "Oh, king! - Step it--and get five bob on that ring!" - The face of King Olaf was dark with gloom, - He swore as he strode about the room. - She raised her brows and looked at the King-- - "To swear before ladies is not the thing!" - "Why should I wed thee," he cried, "old maid? - A faded beauty, a heathen jade!" - He swore a swear, and he stamped a stamp, - And he fetched her a whack with his gingham Gamp. - They placed the King in a dungeon vault, - Because he was guilty of an assault, - With Tupper for supper, and hot cross buns - They slowly starved him, those savage ones, - And his only drink was Petrole_um_-- - And he'd been accustomed to Red Heart Rum! - - A SHORTFELLOW. - - * * * * * - - -THE SAGA OF THE SKATERMAN. - - Down by the Serpentine, - Found I the Skaterman-- - Found him a-wiping his - Eyes with his ulster-sleeve, - Eyes full of scalding tears, - Red with much blubbering. - Red was his nose likewise-- - Deeply I pitied him. - - "Cheer up, O Skaterman! - Never say die!" says I. - "Cheer up, my hearty!"--so - Tried I to comfort him, - Slapping his back, whereby - Coughed he like anything, - Forth went my heart to him, - Lent him my wipe, I did, - Dried his poor nose and eyes, - Sitting aside of him - Holding his hand. - "Hark to the Skald!" I says, - "Tell him what's up with thee; - Thor of the Hammer will - Come to thine aid!" - Then spake the Skaterman, - Rumbling with muttered oaths - Deep in his diaphragm, - Grumbling at Thor: - "Blow Thaw and Scald!" he cried; - "Blow heverythink!" he cried, - Salt tears a-rolling down - Alongside his nose. - "See these here 'Hacmes,' Sir, - New from the Store they are, - Never been used afore, - Twelve-and-six thrown away! - Friga the Frigid came, - Friga, great Odin's wife, - Bound up the river-gods, - Laid out an icy floor - Mete for the Skaterman. - Then I began to hoard. - Weekly and weekly hoard, - All of my saving to - Buy these here things-- - Came Thaw, the thunder-god, - Brake up the Ice-bound stream-- - Twelve-and-six thrown away, - That's what's the matter, Sir-- - Thaw, he be blowed!" - Then, with a wild shriek, he - Upped with his knobby stick, - Smote on the Acme steel, - Smote with a mighty stroke, - Smote it and broke it up - Into small flinderkins, - Banged it and smashed it up - Into smithereens. - Shocked, then I left him there, - Grumbling at Thor! - - _Punch's Almanack_, 1884. - -Another long parody of the same original was contained in _Punch_, -September 20, 1879. It was entitled "A Modern Saga," and consisted of -nine verses, describing Professor Nordenskiöld's travels and discoveries -concerning the North-East passage. - - * * * * * - -It is now a good many years since a well-known American author, Mr. Bayard -Taylor, produced a clever little book, entitled "Diversions of the Echo -Club." The late Mr. John Camden Hotten published it in London, and it -has since gone through several editions. The scheme of the book is thus -given by the author:--"In the rear of Karl Schäfer's lager-beer cellar and -restaurant--which everyone knows, is but a block from the central part of -Broadway--there is a small room, with a vaulted ceiling, which Karl calls -his _Löwengrube_, or Lions' Den. Here, in their Bohemian days, Zoïlus -and the Gannet had been accustomed to meet, discuss literary projects, -and read fragments of manuscript to each other. The Chorus, the Ancient -and young Galahad gradually fell into the same habit, and thus a little -circle of six, seven, or eight members came to be formed. The room could -comfortably contain no more: it was quiet, with a dim, smoky, confidential -atmosphere, and suggested Auerbach's Cellar to the Ancient, who had been -in Leipzig. - -Here authors, books, magazines, and newspapers were talked about; -sometimes a manuscript poem was read by its writer; while mild potations -of beer and the dreamy breath of cigars delayed the nervous, fidgetty, -clattering-footed American Hours. The character which the society assumed -for a short time was purely accidental. As one of the Chorus, I was -present at the first meeting, and, of course, I never failed afterwards. -The four authors who furnished our entertainment were not aware that I had -written down, from memory, the substance of the conversations, until our -evenings came to an end, and I have had some difficulty in obtaining their -permission to publish my reports." - -These so-called "Reports" describe the proceedings at eight meetings of -the Club, and the conversation is devoted to criticisms of the most famous -modern poets. The members next proceed to draw lots as to whose works they -shall imitate, the result being a series of parodies, or, more correctly -speaking, comical imitations of style, many of which are exceedingly -amusing. - -The principal poets thus parodied are William Morris; Robert Browning; E. -A. Poe; John Keats; Mrs. Sigourney; A. C. Swinburne; R. W. Emerson; E. C. -Stedman; Dante G. Rossetti; Barry Cornwall; J. G. Whittier; Oliver Wendell -Holmes; Alfred Tennyson; H. W. Longfellow; Walt Whitman; Bret Harte; J. R. -Lowell; Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning; and several less known authors. - -Amongst the minor poets are included several American writers, whose works -are almost unknown to English readers. - -On the Fifth night _Zoilus_ draws _Longfellow_, and his comrades caution -him to beware how he treats an author, already a classic, whose works have -been complimented by many ordinary parodies. He composes the following -imitation of Longfellow's hexameters:-- - - -NAUVOO. - - This is the place: be still for a while, my high-pressure steamboat! - Let me survey the spot where the Mormons builded their temple. - Much have I mused on the wreck and ruin of ancient religions, - Scandinavian, Greek, Assyrian, Zend, and the Sanskrit, - Yea, and explored the mysteries hidden in Talmudic targums, - Caught the gleam of Chrysaor's sword and occulted Orion, - Backward spelled the lines of the Hebrew graveyard at Newport, - Studied Ojibwa symbols and those of the Quarry of Pipestone, - Also the myths of the Zulus whose questions converted Colenso, - So, methinks, it were well I should muse a little at Nauvoo. - - Fair was he not, the primitive Prophet, nor he who succeeded, - Hardly for poetry fit, though using the Urim and Thummin. - Had he but borrowed Levitical trappings, the girdle and ephod, - Fine twined linen, and ouches of gold, and bells and pomegranates, - That, indeed, might have kindled the weird necromancy of fancy. - Had he but set up mystical forms, like Astarte or Peor, - Balder, or Freya, Quetzalcoatl, Perun, Manabozho, - Verily, though to the sense theologic it might be offensive, - Great were the gain to the pictured, flashing speech of the poet. - - Yet the Muse that delights in Mesopotamian numbers, - Vague and vast as the roar of the wind in a forest of pine-trees, - Now must tune her strings to the names of Joseph and Brigham. - Hebrew, the first; and a Smith before the Deluge was Tubal, - Thor of the East, who first made iron ring to the hammer; - So on the iron heads of the people about him, the latter, - Striking the sparks of belief and forging their faith in the Good Time - Coming, the Latter Day, as he called it,--the Kingdom of Zion. - Then, in the words of Philip the Eunuch unto Belshazzar, - Came to him multitudes wan, diseased and decrepit of spirit, - Came and heard and believed, and builded the temple of Nauvoo. - - All is past; for Joseph was smitten with lead from a pistol, - Brigham went with the others over the prairies to Salt Lake. - Answers now to the long, disconsolate wail of the steamer, - Hoarse, inarticulate, shrill, the rolling and bounding of ten-pins,-- - Answers the voice of the bar-tender, mixing the smash and the julep, - Answers, precocious, the boy, and bites a chew of tobacco. - Lone as the towers of Afrasiab now is the seat of the Prophet, - Mournful, inspiring to verse, though seeming utterly vulgar: - Also--for each thing now is expected to furnish a moral-- - Teaching innumerable lessons for who so believes and is patient. - Thou, that readest, be resolute, learn to be strong and to suffer! - Let the dead Past bury its dead and act in the Present! - Bear a banner of strange devices, "Forever" and "Never!" - Build in the walls of time the fame of a permanent Nauvoo, - So that thy brethren may see it and say, "Go thou and do likewise!" - -This poem does not altogether meet with his comrades' approval; Zoïlus -retorts that "it is no easy thing to be funny in hexameters; the Sapphic -verse is much more practicable." - -_The Gannet_ hereupon asserts that he could write an imitation of -Longfellow's higher strains--not of those which are so well known and so -much quoted--which would be fairer to the poet, and after a short interval -produces-- - - -THE SEWING-MACHINE. - - A strange vibration from the cottage window - My vagrant steps delayed, - And half abstracted, like the ancient Hindoo, - I paused beneath the shade. - - What is, I said, this unremitting humming, - Louder than bees in spring? - As unto prayer the murmurous answer coming, - Shed from Sandalphon's wing. - - Is this the sound of unimpeded labour, - That now usurpeth play? - Our harsher substitute for pipe and tabor, - Ghittern and virelay? - - Or, is it yearning for a higher vision, - By spiritual hearing heard? - Nearer I drew, to listen with precision, - Detecting not a word. - - Then, peering through the pane, as men of sin do, - Myself the while unseen, - I marked a maiden seated by the window, - Sewing with a machine. - - Her gentle foot propelled the tireless treadle, - Her gentle hand the seam: - My fancy said, it were a bliss to peddle - Those shirts, as in a dream! - - Her lovely fingers lent to yoke and collar - Some imperceptible taste; - The rural swain, who buys it for a dollar, - By beauty is embraced. - - O fairer aspect of the common mission! - Only the Poet sees - The true significance, the high position - Of such small things as these. - - Not now doth Toil, a brutal Boanerges, - Deform the maiden's hand; - Her implement its soft sonata merges - In songs of sea and land. - - And thus the hum of the unspooling cotton, - Blent with her rhythmic tread, - Shall still be heard, when virelays are forgotten, - And troubadours are dead. - -It may be said of "Diversions of the Echo Club" (now published by Messrs. -Chatto and Windus), that whilst many of the parodies are amusing, none -are either vulgar or ill-natured; the criticisms on the various poets are -generally just, thoughtful, and keenly perceptive. - - * * * * * - -Before leaving Longfellow there are two amusing imitations of Hiawatha to -be quoted; Unfortunately, the very clever _Song of Big Ben_ is too long to -quote in full, but it is easily accessible:-- - - -THE SONG OF BIG BEN. - - Should you ask me why these columns - Filled with words of many speakers-- - Why this record of their doings, - With their frequent repetitions, - Their inane deliberations, - And their aggravating dulness? - I should answer, I should tell you, - "That I write them as I hear them, - As I hear, and as I see them;-- - That the world may learn what happens - In the painted, gilded chamber, - In the chapel of St. Stephen's, - At the House of Talkee-Talkee, - Where, upon the woolsack, patient, - Lolls the Chancellor, hard-headed, - Where, enthroned above the table, - Sadly sits and broods the Speaker." - Should you ask me why he sits there? - I should answer, I should tell you, - "'Tis because the people will it; - 'Tis because they send up members - Who will talk for moons together; - Nought accomplishing, yet spouting, - Like the dolphin, Mishe-no-zha, - Weak and watery stuff for ever." - If still further you should ask me, - Saying "But what do these members, - And the many like unto them, - In the House of Talkee-Talkee?" - I should answer your enquiry - Straightway in such words as follow:-- - "Much they love to hear their voices - Talking rubbish at all seasons: - Many 'mongst them seize all chances - For the riding of their hobbies; - Ride them late and ride them early, - Ride them through the Standing Orders; - Ride them without bit or bridle, - Knowing not, nor caring whither." - And if once again you query, - Saying, "Is this all they do there?" - I should answer your fresh query, - I should meet your new conundrum - Right away in some such fashion - As the following, for instance, - I should tell you, "There are many - Who will bide their time with patience, - Knowing that to them by waiting - Will come all the things they long for. - That M.P. means oft More Power; - That 'twill bring them briefs and clients, - Make them 'guinea-pigs' and chairmen, - Knight them, maybe, in the future; - Or ennoble them if only - They will spend their money freely - For the party they belong to." - If you really had the conscience - To make any more enquiries, - I would answer, I should tell you - Not to ask more leading questions, - But to wait and read these columns. - In these records find your answers, - In these lines replies discover. - - -THE LORDS. - - To the gilded, painted chamber - Of the House of Talkee-Talkee, - Comes a crowd of various people, - Comes a flock of noble ladies, - Painted most, and all _decolletees;_ - Come the Bishops and the Judges, - Gravely taking up their places; - Clad in their state robes, the Judges, - Like to agéd washerwoman; - In their puffed lawn sleeves, the Bishops, - Fussy, like the hen that cackles - Over new-laid egg or chicken; - Come diplomatists by dozens, - Blazing with their numerous orders, - Which they gladly take, like bagmen; - Come with their vermilion buttons - And their petticoats of satin, - Wond'ring much, the Chinese Envoys:-- - Wond'ring why it is the ladies - Care to sit squeezed up like herrings? - How it is their faces glow so - With the ruddy hues of nature? - Wond'ring why it is the nobles - Moon about with hideous cloaks on, - Making them appear round-shouldered, - Mute-like, "Jarvie-ish," ungainly? - Why it is Lord Coleridge carries - 'Neath the folds of his the head-gear - Known in slang phrase as a "stove-pipe!" - Why in swallow-tail of evening - Mr. Pierrepoint walks at noon-day? - Why the Primate greets profusely - Fezzed Musurus when he enters? - Why the latter comes to gaze on - These ill-fated dogs of Christians - That his former masters cheated? - And their wonderment continues - As they hear the _charivari_, - See the entrances and exits, - Watch staid men in green and silver, - Rushing here and running thither. - Others, clad in velvet small-clothes, - Pottering in among the benches, - Nought effecting but confusion. - - * * * * * - - Entered are at last the household, - And the Queen comes through the doorway, - Sits she in her dress of velvet - On the throne, and all is silent. - Only for a minute's space though, - For, from down a distant lobby, - Comes the sound of pattering footsteps, - Like the rush of many waters, - By the shore of Gitche Gumee, - By the shining Big Sea Water. - Nearer, nearer, comes the pattering, - Louder, louder grow the voices, - More pronounced the hurried scuffling. - Now it seems as though the sound wave - Rolled close to the chamber's portal, - And, 'midst loud complaints and laughter, - Plainly heard by all who sat there, - Comes unto the bar the Speaker; - At his heels are Stafford Northcote, - And Ward Hunt, the Tory giant, - After them the deluge! Members - Fight and push, and pull and scuffle; - Loudly wrangle for their places, - And protest with scanty measure - Of politeness or good breeding; - Whilst their premier, safe translated, - Smiles a smile that's cold and selfish. - - But at length the Commons settle - Into order as behoves them. - And the Chancellor upstanding - Mounts the throne's wide steps, and kneeling - To his sovereign he offers - Her own speech, which she declining, - He unrolls, and then distinctly - With a voice and tone majestic - (Picked up in his constant practice), - Read it in this way and this wise:-- - "Listen to these words of wisdom - Sounding much but meaning little, - That with much elaborate caution, - In the Cabinet we hit on. - - Oh, my faithful Lords and Commons, - As it is so far from likely - That you read the daily journals, - As it is so very certain - You've heard nothing that has happened, - I will tell you what you cannot - By remotest chance have heard of: - Know ye then, my trusted children, - There has been a war in Turkey, - And my Ministers have written - Some despatches on the subject; - So if, later on, my Commons - Should find out the vote for foolscap - And for ink and quills is swollen, - They will know the cause and pass it; - But let me haste on to tell you - In thrice twenty lines the items - That for weeks have been known fully - Through the papers to the people. - Know ye then, my Lords and Commons - (This is likewise news important, - I have journeyed far to tell you), - We joined Europe in a Conference, - And we sent our trusty cousin, - Robert Cecil, Salisbury's Marquis, - To take part in its discussions? - Know ye not that Robert Cecil, - Lordly master he of Hatfield, - Went and saw, but did not conquer-- - Went and talked, but did not manage - Well his coaxing or his bluster; - Nay, came back completely vanquished, - And must do without his dukedom? - Need I add, my knowing children, - How his failure grieved his colleagues-- - How Lord Derby wept to hear it-- - How Lord Beaconsfield has felt it? - Still bewails it much in private, - And in public should his lips curl, - That is merely force of habit. - Know ye too, my legislators, - My most able statute-makers, - That my Indian subjects vastly - Liked the squibs let off at Delhi, - By my dreamy poet-Viceroy; - And, about to die of famine, - They enjoyed the show immensely. - All the Colonies are prosp'rous! - Which, if I am not mistaken, - Will be news to many of them, - Say, for instance, to Barbadoes. - - Gentlemen, who pull the purse-strings, - I presume you will, as usual, - Vote sufficient of the needful. - Go, then, and in these great labours - May the spirit of the Master, - Gitche Manito, the Mighty - Aid you, lest they should o'erwhelm you." - - Then uprose the Queen, and vanished, - And a hubbub fills the Chamber: - Peers take off their robes of velvet; - Ladies cover up their shoulders, - And the throng is quickly scattered; - Yet was very full the chamber-- - Full of Lords, and full of strangers, - All come down, and feeling curious - How the Earl and eke the Marquis - Would get on when brought together; - Some there were who thought the Marquis - Would upon the Earl his back turn; - Some who thought the Earl would curl his - Upper lip, and snub the Marquis; - Others that the Marquis, smarting - With the knowledge that he'd been offered - Coolly on the Eastern altar, - That he had been made a victim; - Had been sent to wreck his prestige, - 'Mongst the diplomatic breakers, - Would dig up the buried hatchet - From the _Quarterly's_ shut pages, - Would dash down the friendly peace-pipe, - And his tomahawk turn wildly - On his former foe, Ben Dizzy; - But it did not come to pass so, - For on Thursday all was quiet, - And the Salisburian lion - Lay down with the Dizzian lambkin. - And the Marquis keeps his vengeance - For a more convenient season, - If, indeed, he has not hopes still - Of a dukedom for his failure. - After this they talked for four hours, - But the talk meant simply nothing! - - -THE COMMONS. - - As the "brave" re-seeks his wigwam, - Left deserted in the autumn, - When the early spring-tide tempts him - To return and hunt the bison-- - To return and trap the beaver-- - To return and scalp the "pale-face"-- - To return, in short, and do for - Many beasts and birds and fishes; - So unto their long-left places, - To their worn and padded places, - Where they sought for reputation-- - Where they strove for loaves and fishes-- - Where they hounded down the helpless-- - Where they vexèd those in office-- - Where they howled and snored and hooted-- - Where they quite wore out the Speaker, - Harried Adderley and Holker, - Tried in vain to draw Ben Dizzy, - And gave forth such endless rubbish-- - Came the M.P.'s for the Session. - Came in state, too, Mr. Speaker - With the mace and with his chaplain;-- - Gold the mace, and Byng his chaplain; - Whereupon did Captain Gossett, - In his normal tights and ruffles, - "Tile" the door till prayers were over. - Thus all present fell to praying, - Let us hope they prayed in earnest, - For delivery from envy, - Spite and malice and Kenealy. - Prayed for sense (God knows most want it), - Prayed for very frequent count-outs, - And for early dissolution. - [_Left Praying._ - - Now the mace is on the table - From his oaken throne the Speaker, - In his hand the Queen's speech holding, - Tries to read it, but half through it, - Something ails him, and he falters. - May we not trace his emotion - To the thought of what's before him? - How can he fail to remember - That the bores have re-assembled. - Stronger both in lung and purpose, - That when they left town last August. - And he knows he can't escape them, - That his eye perforce will caught be - By the Lewises and Lawsons, - By the Biggars and the Whalleys, - By the Newdegates and Parnells, - This is why his voice completely - Fails him and prevents his reading, - This is why his accents die out, - Like the last song of Pu-kee-wis, - Of the dying swan, Pu-kee-wis; - This is why they have to bring him - Of the water from his cistern - (Let us hope it first was filtered), - Which he drinks, and so recovers; - Drinks, and so concludes his reading. - - Then, since there is no amendment, - One would think that when the mover - And the seconder had spoken - That the House would straightway scatter; - Little do they know, who think so, - Of the ways of Mr. Gladstone! - Little do they understand him, - If they think he can keep silence - When the Eastern question's talked of! - Could they fancy Whalley speechless, - With the Jesuits on the _tapis?_ - Could they picture Doctor "Dewdrops" - Dumb upon the Magna Charta? - Or the Common Serjeant henceforth - Dropping his deceased wife's sister? - Could they e'en think Holker clever? - Couple modesty and Jenkins? - Take from Lewis his white waistcoats, - Or from Plimsoll his last hobby? - Could they do all this? it's doubtful, - Even then, if Mr. Gladstone - Could be really kept from speaking. - When the Eastern question's mentioned, - He is always running over - With a tide of verbal fulness; - At a moment's notice ready - To break through his lips or flow out - In a pamphlet from his study, - Just as when the cat, Me-aw-nee, - Sees a mouse she pounces on it; - As the buffalo, Shu-shu-kah, - At the sight of crimson's maddened; - As the sturgeon, Minhe-nah-ma, - Meets a mackerel, but to bolt it, - As the 'possum, Pau-ku-kee-wis, - When it finds a gum-tree, climbs it, - So does this M.P. for Greenwich - Seize upon the Eastern question, - Be it in, or out of, season, - Be it _apropos_ or useless, - Be it positively dangerous - To allude to it in public; - So on Thursday seized he on it, - Even though he knew the time was - Not yet come to talk upon it, - Poured his stream of words upon it, - Swamped it with his fluent diction; - And when he had talked a column, - Was informed by Gathorne Hardy, - That the questions he'd propounded - Would be answered in the blue-books; - That the information asked for - Would be printed in the blue-books; - That, in short, his speech was useless-- - _Verba et præterea nihil_. - Whereupon the Speaker vanished, - And the House broke up its sitting. - - _Truth_, February 15, 1877. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF PAHTAHQUAHONG. - -"The REV. HENRY PAHTAHQUAHONG CHASE, hereditary Chief of the Ojibway -tribe, President of the Grand Council of Indians, and missionary of the -Colonial and Continental Church Society at Muncey Town, Ontario, Canada, -has just arrived in England, on a short visit."--_The Standard._ - - Straight across the Big-Sea-Water, - From the Portals of the Sunset, - From the prairies of the Red Men, - Where Suggema, the mosquito. - Makes the aggravated hunter - Scratch himself with awful language; - From the land of Hiawatha, - Land of wigwams, and of wampum, - Land of tomahawks and scalping, - (See the works of J. F. COOPER), - Comes the mighty PAHTAHQUAHONG, - Comes the Chief of the Obijways. - Wot ye well, we'll give him welcome, - After manner of the Pale Face, - Show him all the old world's wonders, - Griffins in the public highways, - Gormandising corporations, - And the Market of Mud-Salad. - Show him, too, the dingy Palace, - And the House of Talkee-Talkee; - Where the Jossakeeds--the prophets-- - And the Chieftains raise their voices. - Like Iagoo the great boaster, - With immeasurable gabble, - Talking much and doing little, - Till one wishes they could vanish - To the kingdom of Ponemah-- - To the Land of the Hereafter! - We will show him all the glories - Of this land of shams and swindles, - Land of much adulteration, - Dusting tea and sanding sugar, - And of goods not up to sample; - Till disgusted PAHTAHQUAHONG, - Till the Chief of the Obijways, - President of Indian Council, - Missionary swell, and so forth, - Cries, "Oh, let me leave this England, - Land of Bumbledom and Beadles, - Of a thousand Boards and Vestries; - Let me cross the Big-Sea-Water, - With Keewaydin--with the Home Wind, - And go back to the Ojibways!" - _Punch_, March 12, 1881. - - * * * * * - -A _jeu d'esprit_ somewhat in the nature of _The Rejected Addresses_ -has recently been published by Mr. George Dryden, of Lothian Street, -Edinburgh. It is entitled "_Rejected Tercentenary Songs_, with the -comments of the Committee appended." Edited by Rolus Ray. - -It will be remembered that the Edinburgh University has just been -celebrating its Tercentenary, and the contents of this amusing little -sixpenny pamphlet consist of the Poems supposed to have been sent in, by -matriculated students of the University, in competition for a prize of Ten -Guineas, offered by the Tercentenary Committee for the best song in honour -of the occasion. - -It contains numerous Latin and Macaronic verses, a long parody of Walt -Whitman, one of Gilbert, and two of Longfellow, which I venture to quote. -The first is incomplete:-- - - "I stood in the quad at midnight, - As the bells were tolling the hour; - And the moon shone o'er the city, - Behind the Tron Kirk tower." - - "Among the black stone gables - The ghostly shadows lay; - And the moonbeams from the rising moon, - Falling, made them creep away." - - "With weary brain and mind opprest, - I stood in the quad and pondered--" - -Here it breaks off abruptly; the other is a very fair parody of the _Song -of Hiawatha_, although, of course, some of the allusions are only of local -interest. The poem is entitled-- - - -PIAMATER. - -_By Alfred Longcove._ - - Should you ask of what I'm writing, - With the scented smoke of segars - Curling around my weary head, - With the odours of the class-rooms, - And its wild reverberations - Of the many interruptions - Of its bands of many students, - Rankling in my ears and nostrils? - Why my head I scratch so often? - Why I ask my muse to aid me - With her bright poetic fire? - Why I burn the gas at midnight? - Why I have so many books-- - Poetry books on prosy subjects, - Books of songs by Burns and Moore, - Ponderous books for words referring, - Webster's Unabridged and Walker's - Poet's Rhyming Dictionary-- - Strewed around me on the table? - I should answer, I should tell you, - "'Tis because I am composing - A natal song to Alma Mater." - - 'Tis thy year, O Alma Mater, - Of thy great Tercentenary. - Time, thy years three hundred measures - With his glass; the mighty Hour-glass - Marks thy seconds, passing quickly, - With grains of sand for e'er falling - Through its glassy neck so slender, - Let us sing to her, O students, - A pæan song of natal greetings, - Let us spread our banquet-tables - In the halls of Edina's town. - Let us drain to her good welfare - Many bottles filled with good wine - From the vineyard of the Loire, - From the Spanish town of Xeres, - From the town of great Oporto, - From the country of the Deutchers, - From the flow'ry land of Champagne; - Let us drain the pewter tankards, - Filled with Bass's bittery beer - And with Dublin's triple X stout; - Let us drain our glassy goblets, - Filled with the wine of Gooseberry, - Filled with clarets made in London, - And with other imitations; - Let us brew the Festive Toddy - From the whisky, great Tanglefeet, - On that morn--her natal morning! - Sons and daughters of old Scotland, - Land of Oatcakes and of Whisky, - Don your costumes made for Sunday; - O ye students of Edina, - Put your "go-to-meetings" on you; - O ye Dons, that festal morning, - Don ye your gowns and mortar boards; - Let the Billirubin warble - One of his impromptu ditties, - Physiologic songs of praise-- - Sing the praise of Alma Mater; - Let the great, her mighty surgeon, - Throw his dazzling, lustrous sheen - Of his intellect most massive, - In a speech of his own making, - Stock full of jokes and anecdotes-- - Speak the praise of Alma Mater; - Let them all, her swell Professors, - Puff her up above the skies. - From the Gardens to the Meadows, - From the Loch--great Duddingston-- - To the station of Haymarket, - From the Place of the Lunatics - To the town of Portobello-- - Where the many donkey-riders - Ride along its dirty sands; - Where the fellows go on Sunday - For a walk, and drink the _Ozone_ - Wafted round promiscuously; - Where they go to meet their damsels, - And walk with them along the strand-- - From Merchiston to Warriston, - Let merry songs of praises ring - On that day, her happy birthday. - Now join with me, ye students all, - Wish her now, your Alma Mater, - Greatest wealth and prosperity. - Hail to thee, O Alma Mater, - School above schools upon this earth! - Hail to thee, thou great Alchemist! - Hail to thee, O Verdant Pasture! - Hail to thee, O Parenchyma! - Hail to thee, thou Grecian Pet! - Hail to thee, the great Kail Runter! - Hail to thee, O Billirubin! - Hail to thee, O Wells of Water! - Hail to thee, the Kitchen Surgeon! - Hail to thee, thou Man of Physic! - Hail to thee, thou Just Lawgiver! - Hail to thee, the great Drug Speaker! - Hail to thee, her Story-teller! - Hail to thee, the great Dissector! - Hail to thee, O Damsonjamer! - Hail to thee, her Organ Grinder! - Hail to thee, thou Fossilfeller! - Hail to thee, O Afterglower! - Hail to thee, the Celtic Chairer! - Hail to thee, O Wandering Jew! - Hail to thee, the Magna Charta! - Hail to thee, O great Kirkpaddy! - Hail to thee, Cephalic Mewer! - Hail to thee, no Small Pertater! - Hail to thee, the great Schoolboarder! - Hail to thee, her Comet-gazer! - Hail to thee, the Soda-fountain! - Hail to thee, thou Cubic Crystal! - Hail to thee, O Science Gossip! - Hail to thee, the Engine-Driver! - Hail to thee, thou great Darwiner! - Hail to thee, the Eye-restorer! - Hail to thee, O great Lunatic! - Hail to thee, her long Gatekeeper! - Hail to ye, her famous Children! - Hail to ye, O Students' Council! - Hail to ye, her many Students! - Hail to me, her Song Composer! - Hail to ye, all her Children, Friends, - And Near Relations, on that day! - All hail to our Alma Mater - On her natal morn be given!!![5] - - * * * * * - -The author of _The Dagonet Ballads_ has produced so many pathetic poems, -descriptive of the terrible miseries of our London poor, that one is -rather apt to overlook the humorous poetry proceeding from the same pen. -But, like all true masters of pathos, this poet of the people has the -power to summon up smiles through our tears. It was well said of Tom Hood -"that the blending of the grave with the gay which pervaded his writings, -makes it no easy task to class his poems under the heads of 'serious' and -'comic.'" This remark applies with equal force to the poems of George R. -Sims, and were it possible to anticipate the verdict of posterity we might -expect to find the names of Hood and Sims classed together; indeed, so far -as practical results are concerned, the philanthropical efforts of the -younger poet are likely far to exceed anything that was achieved by the -author of _The Bridge of Sighs_ and _The Song of the Shirt_. - -But this is not the place to consider Mr. Sims' position as a serious -writer, although, indeed, even the following poem has a moral:-- - - -A PLUMBER. - -(_An Episode of a rapid Thaw._) - - The dirty snow was thawing fast, - As through the London streets there passed - A youth, who, mid snow, slush, and ice, - Exclaimed, "I don't care what's the price-- - A Plumber!" - - His brow looked mad, his eye beneath - Was fixed and fierce--he clenched his teeth, - While here and there a bell he rung, - But found not all the shops among - A Plumber. - - He saw his home, he saw the light - Wall-paper sopped--a gruesome sight. - He saw his dining-room afloat, - He cried, "I'll give a fi' pun note-- - A Plumber!" - - "O stop the leak!" his wife had said; - "The ceiling's cracking overhead. - The roaring torrent's deep and wide"-- - "I'll go and fetch," he had replied, - "A Plumber." - - "Pa ain't at home," the maiden said, - When to the plumber's house he sped. - He searched through London low and high, - But nowhere could he catch or spy - A Plumber. - - Next morn, a Peeler on his round, - A mud-bespattered trav'ller found, - Who grasped the "Guide to Camden Town" - With hand of ice--the page turned down - At "Plumbers." - - They brought a parson to his side, - He gently murmured ere he died-- - "My house has floated out to sea, - I am not mad--it's not d. t.-- - It's Plumbers." - -This parody is to be found in a small volume entitled _The Lifeboat and -other Poems_, by George R. Sims (John P. Fuller, Wine Office Court, -London, 1883). - -By the author's kind permission I am also enabled to quote the very funny, -although slightly incoherent, remarks of-- - - -THE POETS ON THE MARRIAGE WITH A DECEASED WIFE'S SISTER BILL. - - It comes as a boon and a blessing to men - When your missus as was disappears from your ken. - - ANONYMOUS. - - When from the wife you get a parting benison, Her sister will - console you-- - - ALFRED TENNYSON. - - When weary, worn, and nigh distraught with grief, - You mourn Maria in your handkerchief, - Rush, rush to Aunty, and obtain relief. - - AN F.S.A. OF OVER 100 YEARS. - - Beneath the spreading chestnut tree - The village smithy stands-- - With Mrs. Smith it's all U P, - She's gone to other lands. - But he goes on Sunday to the church, - And hears her sister's voice; - He leaves his scruples in the lurch, - And she makes his heart rejoice. - The morning sees his suit commenced, - The evening sees it done-- - Next day the Parson ties the knot, - And Pa and Aunt are one. - - LONGFELLOW. - - O blood-bitten lip all aflame, - O Dolores and also Faustine, - O aunts of the world worried shame, - Lo your hair with its amorous sheen, - Meshes man in its tangles of gold; - O aunts of the tremulous thrill, - We are pining--we long to enfold - The Deceased Wife's Fair Relative Bill. - - SWINBURNE. - -Although the above lines were written several years ago, they may be -appropriately quoted now that the House of Commons has once again carried, -and by a large majority, a resolution in favour of the repeal of the law -prohibiting marriage with a deceased wife's sister. - -(In a division in the House of Commons on May 6, 1884, Mr. Broadhurst's -motion was carried by 238 to 127, or a majority of 111 in favour of the -repeal.) - - * * * * * - - -DYSPEPSIA. - - The dinner hour had come at last, - The evening sun was sinking fast; - I sat me down in sorry mood, - And darkly look'd upon the food. - Dyspepsia! - - My happy comrades' bright eyes beam'd, - And o'er the steaming _potage_ gleam'd; - Alas! not mine to find relief - In whitebait's flavour bright and brief. - Dyspepsia! - - "Try not the duck," my conscience said; - 'Twill lie upon your chest like lead; - Delusion all, that bird so fair; - The sage and onions are a snare. - Dyspepsia! - - "Oh, taste!" our hostess cried, and press'd - A portion of a chicken's breast; - I view'd the fowl with longing eye, - Then answer'd sadly, with a sigh, - Dyspepsia! - - I mark'd with fix'd and stony glare - A brace of pheasants and a hare; - A tear stood in my bilious eye, - When helping friends to pigeon-pie. - Dyspepsia! - - "Beware the celery, if you please; - Beware the awful Stilton cheese." - This was the doctor's last good-night; - I answered feebly, turning white, - "Dyspepsia!" - - The scarcely-tasted dinner done, - Old Port and walnuts next came on; - I kept my mouth all closely shut; - But how I long'd for just one nut! - Dyspepsia! - - Some nuts I had, at early day, - (Morn was just breaking cold and grey), - I, starting up, with loud ha! ha! - Felt falling, like a falling star. - Dyspepsia! - -_The Mocking Bird_, by Frederick Field (John Van Voorst, London, 1868.) - - -THE FATE OF THE WINTER RIDER. - -(_By a young lady aged fourteen_). - - The shades of night were falling fast, - As through a lonely village passed - A youth, who rode 'mid snow and ice - A two-wheeled thing of strange device-- - A Bicycle. - - His brow was sad, his eye below - Flashed like his bicycle's steel glow, - While like a silver clarion rung - A bell, which on the handle hung-- - Of the Bicycle. - - In cosy sheds he saw the light - Of bicycles well cleaned and bright; - Along the road deep ruts had grown, - And from his lips escaped a moan-- - "My Bicycle!" - - "Try not that road," the old man said, - "'Tis full of holes, you'll break your head; - The farm pond, too, is deep and wide;" - But loud the bicyclist replied, - "Rot! Bicycle!" - - "Beware the oak-tree's withered arm, - Beware the holes, they'll do you harm!" - This was the peasant's last good-night; - A voice replied, "Don't fear, all right-- - Vive Bicycles!" - - At break of day, as in a brook - A passenger did chance to look, - He started back, what saw he there? - His voice cried through the startled air, - "A Bicycle!" - - A bicyclist, upon the ground, - Half buried in the dirt, was found - Still hugging, in his arms of ice, - That two-wheeled thing of strange device, - The Bicycle. - - There in the twilight cold and grey, - Helpless, but struggling, he lay, - While, now no longer bright and fair, - His bicycle lay broken there-- - Poor Bicycle! - -_Whizz;_ the Christmas number of _The Bicycling Times_, 1880. - - * * * * * - - -THE SETTLER'S VERSION OF EXCELSIOR. - - The shades of night were a coming down swift, - Upidee, Upida. - The snow was heapin' up, drift on drift, - Upidee, Upida. - Through a Yankee village a youth did go, - Carrying a flag with this motto-- - "Upidee, Upida." - - On his high forehead curled copious hair, - He'd a Roman nose, and complexion fair, - A bright blue eye, with an auburn lash, - And he ever kep' a shoutin' thro' his moustache, - Upidee, Upida! - - About half-past nine, as he kep' gettin' upper - He saw a lot of families a sitting down to supper; - He eyed those slippery rocks, he eyed 'em very keen - And he fled as he cried, and he cried as he was fleein'-- - "Upidee, Upida." - - "Oh take care," cried an old man, "stop; - It's blowing gales up there on top; - You'll be blown right off the other side," - But the humorous stranger still replied, - "Upidee, Upida." - - "Beware the branch of the sycamore tree, - And rolling stones, if any you see;" - Just then the farmer went to bed, - And a singular voice replied overhead, - "Upidee, Upida." - - "Oh, stay!" the maiden said, "and rest, - Your weary head upon this breast." - On his Roman nose a tear-drop come, - As he ever kep' a shoutin' as he upward clum, - "Upidee, Upida!" - - About a quarter to six in the next forenoon - A man accidentally going up too soon - Heard repeated above him, as much as twice, - Those very same words, in a very weak voice, - "Upidee, Upida." - - The very same man about a quarter to seven - (He was slow a-gettin' up, the road being uneven), - Found buried up there, among the snow and ice, - That youth with the banner with the strange device, - "Upidee, Upida." - - He was dead, defunct, beyond any doubt, - The lamp of his life was quite gone out, - On the dreary hill-side the youth was a layin', - There was no more use for him to be sayin', - "Upidee, Upida!" - - * * * * * - - The shades of night were falling fast, - As through the streets of London passed - A party with a packet nice, - On which was seen the strange device-- - _Exitium_. - - "Hi, stay!" the Bobby cried, "you man." - Says he, "You'll catch me if you can." - Three rapid strides, and he was gone; - From Bobby's lips escaped a groan-- - _Exitium_. - - At break of day, as in a fright, - The Bobbies came from left and right, - Each murmured, starting in a scare; - A crash resounded through the air-- - _Exitium_. - - There in the twilight cold and grey-- - In ruins stately buildings lay, - And o'er the land the news is spread: - "Another Fenian escapade!" - _Exitium_. - -_Scraps_, 14 May, 1884. - - * * * * * - - Use not the coke, the old man said, - The stove must be by small coal fed. - The heap of slack is deep and wide, - But still their saucy voices cried, - Don't bother us! - - _Printer's Devil_, Northampton, 1884. - - -WHAT IS IN AN AIM. - -(_After "The Bridge."_) - - I went to bed at eleven, - At the sign of the Azure Boar, - And I knew that my room was seven, - For I'd seen it upon the door. - - With a flickering, flaring candle, - That glimmered like sickly Hope, - I found out my way to the handle, - And I flung the portal ope, - - When a gentleman--not to _my_ thinking-- - Was placed in the door upright; - It was evident he had been drinking, - For he hiccuped out in the night; - - And he spoke in a language mighty, - That rang through the chill and gloom; - And he asked me, "Highty-tighty," - "What the deuce do you do in my room?" - - And never of warning mildly - A word had the stranger said, - Ere he took up a bootjack wildly, - And hurled it at my head; - - And down with a noise and clatter - It fell o'er the winding stair, - And some one cried, "What's the matter?" - And I said, "I am not aware!" - - And whenever I feel dyspeptic, - And whenever my soul's unwell, - And whenever I've got lumbago, - And whenever my eyelids swell, - - I see the man with the bootjack, - He swears as he used to swear, - And I hear the implement falling - And clattering down the stair; - - And I say to myself at twilight, - A vindictive person's a brute; - I'd rather have been on the skylight - Than down at the staircase foot! - - For whatever evil you suffer, - The words of the sage rehearse, - "Though things may be bad, you duffer, - They might be a good deal worse." - -_The Story of a Railway Tavern_, by Professor Long, Fellow of the Learned -Societies, contained in _Vere Vereker's Vengeance_, by Thomas Hood, 1865. - - * * * * * - -Reference was made, on page 80, to Edmund H. Yates's parody on -_Evangeline_, it is to be found in "Mirth and Metre," by F. E. Smedley and -E. H. Yates, 1855. - -It commences thus:-- - - -PICNIC-ALINE. - - These are the green woods of Cliefden. The glorious oaks and the - chestnuts - All appertain to the Duke, whose residence stands in the distance-- - Stands like a toyhouse of childhood, besprinkled all over with - windows-- - Stands like a pudding at Christmas, a white surface, dotted with - black things. - Loud from the neighbouring river, the deep voiced clamorous bargée - Roars, and in accents opprobrious holloas to have the lock opened. - These are the green woods of Cliefden. But where are the people who - in them - Laughed like a man when he lists to the breath-catching accents of - Buckstone? - Where are the wondrous white waistcoats, the flimsy baréges and - muslins, - Worn by the swells and the ladies who came here on pleasant excursions? - Gone are those light-hearted people, flirtations, perhaps love--even - marriage, - All have had woeful effect since Mrs. Merillian's picnic; - And of that great merry-making, some bottles in tinfoil enveloped, - And a glove dropped by Jane Page, are the vestiges only remaining! - Ye who take pleasure in picnics, and dote on excursions aquatic, - Flying the smoke of the city, vexations and troubles of business, - List to a joyous tradition of one which was once held at Cliefden-- - List to a tale of cold chicken, champagne, bitter beer, lobster salad! - - EDMUND H. YATES. - - * * * * * - - -TOWN AND GOWN. - - Brightly blazed up the fires through the long dark days of November, - Glimmered the genial lamp in the wainscoted rooms of the College, - Brightest of all in the rooms of De Whyskers, "the talented drinker." - Thence came the festive song, and the clink of the bottles and glasses, - Thence came the chorus loud, abhorred of the Dean and the Fellows. - There sat De Whyskers the jolly, the drinker of curious liquors, - There sat De Jones, and De Jenkyns, stroke oar of the Boniface Torpid; - There too, De Brown, and De Smith, well known to the eyes of the - Proctors, - Heedless of numberless ticks, and the schools, and a "plough" _in - futuro_, - Sat by the ruddy-faced fire, and quaffed the bright vintage of Xeres. - Merrily out to the night through the fogs and the mist of November - Floated the breath of the weed through the fields of the dark Empyrean, - Rose the melodious sounds of the "dogs" which are known as "the jolly," - "Slapping" and "banging" along through that noisy and meaningless - ditty. - But silence! the welkin now rings (whatever the meaning of that is), - A rumour of battle is heard, and the wine and the weeds are deserted. - Out to the darkling High, where the cad and the commoner struggle, - Out to the noise, and the din, and the crowd of the unwashed mechanics, - Went forth De Whyskers the bold, brimfull of the valour of Holland, - Flashed both his eyes in the dark with a gleam that was quite meteoric, - As flashes the pheasant's tail when he hears the first gun in October. - Now with a yell and a spring the cads came up to the onset, - Cursing and swearing amain, and throwing their arms out like thunder. - Stopping before All Saints' the hideous work of Dean Aldrich, - Stopping De Whyskers made emphatic the sign for the battle, - Thereon he let fall a blow swift like an armourer's hammer, - Down on his face fell a cad as falls an oak on the mountains, - Forth from his nose came "the red" as oft in the vintage the dresser - Squeezes the blushing grape on the plains of Estremadura. - Now from the end of the High a rush of the cads overwhelming - Sweeps as the sea sweeps on in the long dark nights of the winter, - Howling as howl the wolves through the snow in the forests of Sweden; - Blow after blow is struck, as the flakes come down in the snowstorm. - Now from the Turl to the Broad, and St. Giles's, abode of the peaceful, - Even to Worcester the slow, or _Botany Bay_, as they call it, - Down by Trinity Gates, and Balliol beloved of the scholar, - Down by the temple of Tom, whence the Curfew rings in the gloaming - Thundered the fray till the rain came down on the scene as a damper. - - _College Rhymes_ (T. and G. Shrimpton, Oxford, 1865.) - -The great "Town and Gown" rows that used to occur annually on the Fifth -of November, between the undergraduates and the townspeople, have been -gradually dying out, but the memory of them still lingers in many old -College Rhymes and traditions. They are most vividly described in _Verdant -Green, an Oxford Freshman_, a light-hearted clever little work, by the -Rev. E. Bradley, Rector of Lenton, better known under his pseudonym -of Cuthbert Bede. Mr. Bradley, although himself a Cambridge man, was -intimately acquainted with Oxford. - - * * * * * - - -A VOICE FROM THE FAR WEST, - -_Hailing the Centenary Birthday of Burns_. - - Happy thy name, O BURNS! for burns, in thy native Doric, - Meaneth the free bright streams, exhaustless, pellucid, and sparkling, - Mountain-born, wild and erratic, kissing the flow'rets in passing, - Type of thy verse and thyself--loving and musical ever; - And the streams by thy verse made immortal are known by our giant - rivers, - Where the emigrants sing them to soothe the yearnings for home in - their bosoms, - And the Coila and gentle Doon, by the song of the Celtic wanderer, - Are known to the whispering reeds that border the great Mississippi. - Thou wert the lad for the lasses! lasses the same are as misses; - And here we have misses had pleased you--Missouri and the Mississippi. - And "green grow the rushes" beside them--as thy evergreen chorus would - have them. - Thou wert the champion of freedom!--Thou didst rejoice in our glory! - When we at Bunker's Hill no bunkum display'd, but true courage! - Jubilant thou wert in our Declaration of Independence! - More a Republican thou than a chain-hugging bow-and-scrape Royalist! - Even the Stars and the Stripes seem appointed the flag of thy - destiny;-- - The stars are the types of thy glory, the stripes thou didst get - from Misfortune. - -_Rival Rhymes, in honour of Burns_. Edited by Ben Trovato (Routledge, -Warnes & Routledge. London, 1859.) - - * * * * * - -There are several excellent parodies in _Lays of the Saintly_, amongst -them the following, which is given here as it is also in the style of -Longfellow's _Evangeline:_-- - - -SISTER BEATRICE (A.D. uncertain). - - This is the metre Columbian. The soft-flowing trochees and dactyls, - Blended with fragments spondaic, and here and there an iambus, - Syllables often sixteen, or more or less, as it happens, - Difficult always to scan, and depending greatly on accent, - Being a close imitation, in English, of Latin hexameters-- - Fluent in sound, and avoiding the stiffness of commoner blank verse, - Having the grandeur and flow of America's mountains and rivers, - Such as no bard could achieve in a mean little island like England; - Oft, at the end of a line, the sentence dividing abruptly - Breaks, and in accents mellifluous follows the thoughts of the author. - -I. - - In the old miracle days, in Rome the abode of the saintly, - To and fro in a room of her sacred conventual dwelling, - Clad in garments of serge, with a veil in the style of her Order, - Mass-book and rosary too, with a bunch of keys at her girdle, - Walk'd, with a pensive air, Beatrice the Carmelite sister. - Fair of aspect was she, but a trifle vivacious and worldly, - And not altogether cut out for a life of devout contemplation. - More of freedom already had she than the rest of the sisters, - For hers was the duty to ope the gates of the convent, and take in - Messages, parcels, _et cetera_, from those who came to the wicket. - Ever and often she paused to gaze on the face of Our Lady, - Limn'd in a picture above by some old pre-Raphaelite Master; - Then would she say to herself (because there was none else to talk to), - "Why should I thus be immured, when people outside are enjoying - Thousands of sights and scenes, while I'm not allowed to behold them, - Thousands of joys and of changes, while I am joyless and changeless? - No, I can bear it no longer. I'll hasten away from the Convent: - Now is the time, for all's quiet; there's no one to see or to catch - me." - So resolving at length, she took off her habit monastic, - And promptly array'd herself in smuggled secular garments; - Then on the kneeling-desk she laid down the keys, in a safeplace, - Where some one or other, or somebody else, would certainly find them. - "Take thou charge of these keys, blest Mother," then murmured Beatrice, - "And guard all the nuns in this holy but insupportable building." - And as she spoke these words, the eyes of the picture were fasten'd - With mournful expression upon her, and tears could be seen on the - canvas; - Little she heeded, however, her thoughts had played truant before her, - Then stole she out of the portal, and never once looking behind her, - Wrapp'd in an ample cloak, and further concealed by the darkness, - Out through the streets of the city Beatrice quickly skedaddled. - -II - - Out in the world went Beatrice, her cell was left dark and deserted; - Scarce had she gone, when lo! with wonderment be it related-- - Down from her canvas and frame, there stepp'd the blessed Madonna, - Took up the keys and the raiment Beatrice had quitted, and wore them, - Also assuming the face and figure of her who was absent; - Became in appearance a nun, so that none could discover the difference. - Save that the sisters agreed that Beatrice the portress was growing - Better and better, as one who aspired to canonization; - Daily abounding in grace, a pattern to all in the convent; - Till it would not have surprised them to see a celestial halo - Gather around her head, and pinions spring from her shoulders, - That, when too good for this world, she might fly away to a better. - Her post was below her deserts, and so by promotion they made her - Mistress of all the novices seeking religious instruction. - Such was her great success in that tender and beautiful office, - Her pupils all bloomed into saints, and some of the very first water. - -III. - - Many a day had pass'd since Beatrice escaped from the convent, - Much had she seen of the world, and its wickedness greatly distress'd - her; - Oft she repented her act, and long'd to return, yet she dared not; - Oft was determined to go, still she "stood on the order of going." - Thus it at last occurr'd that her convent's secular agent - Entered one day, in the house where the truant sister was staying, - But changed as she was in appearance, he did not know her from Adam; - Whilst he in his clerical garb was to her a familiar figure. - "Now I shall learn," thought she, "what they say of my flight and - my absence." - And so she eagerly asked of the nuns and of sister Beatrice, - As of a friend she had known when living near to the convent. - "Truly," the factor replied, "She is still the pride of our sisters, - Favourite too of the abbess, and worthy of all our affection. - Would there were more of her kind in _some_ houses monastic I know of," - Puzzled and rather distress'd, then answer'd the truant _religieuse_, - "She whom I speak of, alas! was less of a saint than a sinner, - She fled from the veil and the cell, so surely you speak of another?" - "Not in the least, my child," the secular agent responded; - "Sister Beatrice, the saint-like, did _not_ run away from the cloister, - Mistress is she of the novices. Why should she go? Stuff and nonsense!" - "What can it mean?" thought Beatrice, "and who is my double and - namesake?" - So when the agent was gone, resolved she would settle the question, - Off to the convent she went, and knocked at the portal familiar, - Ask'd for the sister Beatrice, was shown to the parlour and found a - Counterpart of herself, as she was in her days of seclusion. - Down on her knees went Beatrice--the why and the wherefore she knew - not. - "Welcome, my daughter, again," said her double, the blessed Madonna; - "Now I restore you your keys, your robe, and your other belongings, - Adding the excellent name and promotion I've won in your likeness; - Be you a nun as before, but more pious; farewell, take my blessing." - Speaking, she melted away in the holy pre-Raphaelite picture. - Again was Beatrice "herself," like Richard the third, _à la_ - Shakespeare, - Growing in grace from that day, and winning the glory of Saintship; - While each of the pupils she taught, went to heaven as surely as - _she_ did. - - * * * * * - - Such is the metre Columbian, but where is the bard who devised it? - Tenderest he of the poets who wrote in the tongue of (New) England, - Where the minstrel who sang of "Evangeline," also "Miles Standish?" - Alas! he will never again pour forth his effusions pathetic, - But his name and his fame endure, and this characteristic measure - In honour of him I adopt, without any thought of burlesquing. - Thus on the ear its cadence, like sounds from the labouring ocean, - Breaks, and in accents mellifluous follows the thoughts of the author. - -_Lays of the Saintly_, by Walter Parke (Vizetelly & Co.), London, 1882. - - - - -Charles Wolfe. - - -The Reverend Charles Wolfe, who was born in Dublin in 1791, has earned -literary immortality by one short poem, and that copied with considerable -closeness from a prose account of the incident to which it refers. Reading -in the _Edinburgh Annual Register_ a description of the death and burial -of Sir John Moore, the young poet turned it into verse with such sublime -pathos, such taste and skill, that his poem has obtained imperishable fame -in our literature. - -Mr. Wolfe also produced a few other poems of unquestionable grace and -pathos, but nothing approaching the beauty of his immortal ode. He was, -for a time, curate of Ballyclog, in Tyrone, and afterwards of Donoughmore. -His arduous duties in a large, wild, and very scattered parish left him -little leisure to cultivate the muses, and soon told on his delicate -constitution. He died of consumption on 21st February, 1823, at the early -age of 32, and thus the assertion of his detractors that he produced -nothing else of sufficient merit to show that he could have written the -ode in question, may be easily met by the two pleas--firstly, that he had -other duties to perform; and, secondly, that his career was too brief to -admit of many, or great, performances. - -The battle of Corunna was fought on January 16, 1809, by the British army, -about 15,000 strong, under Sir John Moore, against a force of about 20,000 -Frenchmen. - -The British troops had just safely accomplished a retreat to the coast in -the face of a superior force, and were on the point of embarking, when the -French attacked; the enemy was repulsed, but the British loss was very -great, and Sir John Moore, who was struck on the left shoulder by a cannon -ball, died, much lamented by his troops. His body was removed at midnight -to the citadel of Corunna, and a grave was dug for him on the ramparts by -a party of the 9th Regiment. No coffin could be procured, and the officers -of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it was, in a military cloak -and blankets. The interment was hastened, for firing was heard, and the -officers feared that if a serious attack were made, they should be ordered -away, and not allowed to pay him their last duty. The embarkation of the -troops took place next day, under the command of Sir David Baird, who had -also been wounded in the fight. - -The following is what Lord Byron correctly termed, "The most perfect Ode -in the language":-- - - -THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. - - 'The following lines were written by a Student of Trinity College, - on reading the affecting account of the Burial of Sir John Moore, in - the _Edinburgh Annual Register_':-- - - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, - As his corpse to the rampart we hurried; - Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot - O'er the grave where our hero we buried. - - We buried him darkly at dead of night, - The sods with our bayonets turning. - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, - And the lantern dimly burning. - - No useless coffin enclosed his breast, - Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; - But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, - With his martial cloak around him. - - Few and short were the prayers we said, - And we spoke not a word of sorrow; - But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, - And we bitterly thought of the morrow. - - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, - And smoothed down his lonely pillow, - That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, - And we far away on the billow! - - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, - And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him-- - But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on - In the grave where a Briton has laid him. - - But half of our heavy task was done, - When the clock struck the hour for retiring; - And we heard the distant and random gun - That the foe was sullenly firing. - - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, - From the field of his fame fresh and gory; - We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone-- - But we left him alone with his glory! - -The ode was first published in _Currick's Morning Post_ (Ireland) in 1815, -with the signature "W. C.," and the Rev. J. A. Russell, in his "Remains of -C. Wolfe" (London, 1829), states that a letter is preserved in the Royal -Irish Academy, addressed by the Rev. C. Wolfe to John Taylor, Esq., at -the Rev. Mr. Armstrong's Clononty, Cashel, in which he says:--"I have -completed the 'Burial of Sir John Moore,' and will here inflict it upon -you." This letter bears the post mark "September 9, 1816." - -Yet although the poem was quickly copied into all the newspapers, and -at once became widely popular, its authorship long remained the subject -of controversy. By some it was ascribed to Lord Byron, whilst Shelley -was inclined to name Thomas Campbell as its author. In 1841, long after -the death of Wolfe, it was dishonestly claimed by a Scotch teacher, Mr. -Macintosh, who ungenerously sought to pluck the laurel from the grave of -its owner. - -The friends of Wolfe came forward, and established his right to the poem; -the impostor was compelled to withdraw his claim, and apologise for his -misconduct. - -Of the numerous claims to the authorship of these lines the most striking -was that advanced by the Rev. Francis Mahony ("Father Prout") in -"Bentley's Miscellany," Vol. 1, p. 96, 1837:-- - - "The Rev. Mr. Wolfe is _supposed_ to be the author of a single - poem, unparalleled in the English language for all the qualities - of a true lyric, breathing the purest spirit of the antique, and - setting criticism completely at defiance. I say _supposed_, for the - gentleman himself never claimed its authorship during his short and - unobtrusive lifetime. He who could write the "Funeral of Sir John - Moore" must have eclipsed all the lyric poets of this latter age by - the fervour and brilliancy of his powers. Do the other writings of - Mr. Wolfe bear any trace of inspiration? None. - - "I fear we must look elsewhere for the origin of those beautiful - lines; and I think I can put the public on the right scent. In - 1749, Colonel de Beaumanoir, a native of Brittany, having raised - a regiment in his own neighbourhood, went out with it to India, - in that unfortunate expedition, commanded by Lally-Tolendal, the - failure of which eventually lost to the French their possessions in - Hindostan. The colonel was killed in defending against the forces - of Coote, PONDICHERRY, the last stronghold of the French in that - hemisphere. - - "He was buried that night on the north bastion of the fortress - by a few faithful followers, and the next day the fleet sailed - with the remainder of the garrison for Europe. In the appendix to - the "Memoirs of LALLY-TOLENDAL" by his son, the following lines - occur, which bear some resemblance to those attributed to Wolfe. - Perhaps Wolfe Tone may have communicated them to his relative, the - clergyman, on his return from France. _Fides sit penes lectorem._" - - PADRE PROUT. - - -LES FUNÉRAILLES DE BEAUMANOIR. - -(_The Original of "Not a drum was heard_.") - -I. - - Ni le son du tambour ... ni la marche funèbre ... - Ni le feu des soldats ... ne marqua son départ. - Mais du BRAVE, à la hâte, à travers les ténèbres, - Mornes ... nous portâmes le cadavre au rempart! - -II. - - De minuit c'était l'heure, et solitaire et sombre-- - La lune à peine offrait un débile-rayon: - La lanterne luisait péniblement dans l'ombre, - Quand de la bayonnette on creusa le gazon. - -III. - - D'inutile cercueil ni de drap funéraire - Nous ne daignâmes point entourer le HEROS; - Il gisait dans les plis du manteau militaire - Comme un guerrier qui dort son heure de repos. - -IV. - - La prière qu'on fit fut de courte durée: - Nul ne parla de deuil, bien que le cœur fut plein! - Mais on fixait du MORT la figure adorée ... - Mais avec amertume on songeait au demain. - -V. - - Au demain! quand ici ou sa fosse s'apprête, - Ou son humide lit on dresse avec sanglots, - L'ennemi orgueilleux marchera sur sa tête, - Et nous, ses vétérans, serons loin sur les flots! - -VI. - - Ils terniront sa gloire ... on pourra les entendre - Nommer l'illustre MORT d'un ton amer ... ou fol; - Il les laissera dire.--Eh! qu'importe A SA CENDRE, - Que la main d'un BRETON a confiée au sol? - -VII. - - L'œuvre durait encore, quand retentit la cloche - Au sommet du Befroi:--et le canon lointain, - Tiré par intervalle, en annonçant l'approche, - Signalait la fierté de l'ennemi hautain. - -VIII. - - Et dans sa fosse alors le mîmes lentement ... - Près du champ où sa gloire a été consommée: - Ne mîmes à l'endroit pierre ni monument - Le laissant seul à seul avec sa Renommée! - -This "Father Prout," whom Mr. G. A. Sala terms "the wittiest pedant, the -most pedantic wit, and the oddest fish he ever met with," was well known -as an inveterate jester, as well as an accomplished linguist, so that the -above effusion did not deceive his associates, especially as the documents -referred to in it, as evidence, had no existence save in the fertile brain -of "Father Prout." - -In the recent edition of the "Maclise Portrait Gallery," by Mr. William -Bates, M.A. (Chatto and Windus, 1883), is an interesting biography of -this eccentric genius, in which will be found all that is known about -his French imitation of Wolfe's Ode. Mr. Bates truly remarks that, -notwithstanding Padre Prout's skill in French versification, there are -internal evidences that the poem was not written by a Frenchman, and -further that it has the unmistakable air of a translation. Unfortunately, -however, the mischief was done, and what Mahony may have intended -for a harmless pleasantry, has raised a literary controversy of wide -dimensions. His verses were copied into serious French journals, and many -well-informed foreigners believe the lines to have originated from a -French source. Thus M. Octave Delepierre, in his _Essai sur la Parodie_ -(Trübner and Co., London, 1870), seems to have been entirely misled by -the hoax. He gives part of the French version, and whilst stating that -it is not a settled point, which was first written, he does not mention -Father Prout's article, and seems entirely ignorant of the fictitious and -humorous origin of the French imitation. - -Singularly enough, _The Athenæum_, of July 1, 1871, in reviewing M. -Delepierre's work, fell into the same error, and seriously argued against -the French claim, forgetting all about Father Prout. - -M. Delepierre's statement is (_Essai sur la Parodie_, p. -163):--"Lorsqu'elle fut publiée en 1824, elle parut assez belle pour que -le Capitaine Medwin suggérat qu'elle était due à la muse de _Byron_. -Sydney Taylor réfuta cette supposition, et restitua l'ode à son véritable -auteur, le _Rev. Charles Wolfe_." - -"Ce n'est pas seulement en Angleterre qu'on a discuté la paternité de -cette ode célèbre. On trouve à ce sujet toute une discussion littéraire -dans le journal _L'Intermédiare des Chercheurs et Curieux_, 5ᵋ année, -page 693, et 6ᵋ année, pages 19 et 106." - -"D'après ces détails, il paraîtrait que cette pièce n'est que la -traduction d'une ode Française, composée à l'occasion de la mort du Comte -de Beaumanoir, tué en 1749, à la défense de Pondichery. L'une de ces deux -odes est évidemment une traduction de l'autre; mais quel est l'original?" - -The following is the note in the _Intermédiare_, to which M. Delepierre -refers:-- - - "The well-known verses on the death of Sir John Moore, attributed - to the Rev. Charles Wolfe, but never acknowledged by him, are - so similar to the above, that it is supposed Mr. Wolfe may have - received the French stanzas from his relative, Mr. Wolfe Tone, after - his return from France." - -The best answer to which is, that the French have never yet produced a -genuine and authentic copy of the original version, of a date earlier than -that of Wolfe. - -The ode has been translated into German (by the Rev. E. C. Hawtrey); into -Latin Elegiacs (by the Rev. J. Hildyard); and there is a Greek translation -of it "By a Scottish Physician" in the _Arundines Devæ_ (Edinburgh, -1853); there is also a parody of it by the late Mr. J. H. Dixon, which -is highly spoken of, but, up till now, this has eluded the editor's -researches. - -The Rev. R. H. Barham's well known parody in "The Ingoldsby Legends" is -especially notable for its close imitation of the original; thus not only -is the metre closely followed, but nearly all the lines are made to end -with similar rhymes to those in the original. - -Barham had a good excuse for this comical effusion, in the wish to -expose and ridicule the pretensions of a certain _soi-disant_ "Doctor," -a Durham veterinary surgeon of the name of Marshall, on whose behalf a -claim had been made, in 1824, for the authorship of the "Ode." But this -was afterwards said to have been a mere hoax, as this Marshall was more -remarkable for convivial, than literary tastes. - - Note.--In the autumn of 1824, Captain Medwin having hinted that - certain beautiful lines on the burial of this gallant officer might - have been the production of Lord Byron's muse, the late Mr. Sydney - Taylor, somewhat indignantly, claimed them for their rightful owner, - the late Rev. Charles Wolfe. During the controversy a third claimant - started up in the person of a _soi-disant_ "Doctor Marshall," who - turned out to be a Durham blacksmith, and his pretensions a hoax. - It was then that a certain "Doctor Peppercorn" put forth _his_ - pretensions to what he averred was the only "true and original" - version, viz.:-- - - Not a _sous_ had he got, not a guinea or note, - And he looked confoundedly flurried, - As he bolted away without paying his shot, - And the Landlady after him hurried. - - We saw him again at dead of night, - When home from the Club returning, - We twigg'd the Doctor beneath the light - Of the gas lamp brilliantly burning. - - All bare, and exposed to the midnight dews, - Reclined in the gutter we found him, - And he look'd like a gentleman taking a snooze, - With his _Marshall_ cloak around him. - - "The Doctor's as drunk as the d----," we said, - And we managed a shutter to borrow; - We raised him, and sigh'd at the thought that his head - Would consumedly ache on the morrow. - - We bore him home, and we put him to bed, - And we told his wife and his daughter - To give him, next morning, a couple of red - Herrings, with soda water. - - Loudly they talk'd of his money that's gone, - And his Lady began to upbraid him; - But little he reck'd, so they let him snore on - 'Neath the counterpane just as we laid him. - - We tuck'd him in, and had hardly done, - When, beneath the window calling, - We heard the rough voice of a son-of-a-gun - Of a watchman, "One o'clock," bawling. - - Slowly and sadly we all walk'd down - From his room in the uppermost story; - A rushlight we placed on the cold hearth-stone, - And we left him alone in his glory. - - Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores.--_Virgil._ - I wrote the verses, * * claimed them--he told stories. - - _Thomas Ingoldsby._ - - * * * * * - -The following parody is copied literally from an old ballad sheet in the -British Museum, bearing the imprint:--"Printed and sold by J. Pitts, 6 -Great St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials." No date is given, but that it was -prior to 1830 is shown by the reference to the "Charleys," a nick-name for -the old London watchmen, who were superseded by the new police towards -the end of 1829. But the crimes of Body-snatching, and "Burking," were -not finally put a stop to until, by the act of 1832, provision was made -for the wants of surgeons by permitting, under certain regulations, the -dissection of persons dying in workhouses, etc.:-- - - Not a trap was heard, or a Charley's note - As our course to the churchyard we hurried, - Not a pigman discharg'd a pistol shot - As a corpse from the grave we unburied. - - We nibbled it slily at dead of night, - The sod with our pick-axes turning, - By the nosing moonbeam's chaffing light, - And our lanterns so queerly burning. - - Few and short were the words we said, - And we felt not a bit of sorrow, - But we rubb'd with rouge the face of the dead - And we thought of the spoil for to-morrow. - - The useless shroud we tore from his breast - And then in regimentals bound him, - And he looked like a swoddy taking his rest, - With his lobster togs around him. - - We thought as we fill'd up his narrow bed, - Our snatching trick now no look sees; - But the bulk and the sexton will find him fled, - And we far away towards Brooks's. - - Largely they'll cheek 'bout the body that's gone - And poor Doctor Brooks will upbraid him; - But nothing we care if they leave him alone - In a place where a snatcher has laid him. - - But half of our snatching job was o'er, - When a pal tipt the sign quick for shuffling, - And we heard by the distant hoarse Charley's roar - That the beaks would be 'mongst us soon scuffling. - - Slily and slowly we laid him down, - In our cart famed for staching in story; - Nicely and neatly we done 'em brown, - For we bolted away in our glory. - - * * * * * - -At the time when the first Reform Bill was under discussion its opponents -constantly asserted that, if it were carried, the ancient constitution of -the country would be swept away, and that ruin, revolution, and anarchy -would result. The following parody appeared in a Liberal newspaper of the -period:-- - - -ODE ON THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF THE CONSTITUTION. - - "Who will not be alive to the merits of the following verses on the - death of the British Constitution, which has been dying for the - last four years at least. The lament of the Conservative party over - his death and burial abounds in feeling and sentiment worthy of its - prototype." - - Not a moan was heard--not a funeral note, - As his corpse to the devil they hurried, - Not a speaker discharged his farewell shot, - O'er the grave where our idol was buried. - - They buried him darkly at dead of night, - With their threats our remonstrance turning, - By the struggling Stephen's misty light, - In the brazen socket burning. - - No useless coffin enclosed his breast, - In a sheet of parchment they bound him, - And he lay with Old Sarum for ever at rest, - With schedule A around him. - - Few and short were the speeches said, - And we spoke not a word of sorrow, - But we mournfully looked on the face of the dead, - And thought of the coming morrow. - - We thought as they tumbled him into his bed, - And laid him at rest on his pillow, - That the Radical soon would step over our head, - And we be turned out by the bill--oh! - - Lightly they talk of the spirit that's gone, - And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, - But England's destroyed if they let him sleep on, - In the grave where Lord Russell has laid him. - - But half our heavy task was done, - When the time came for ending the session, - And we heard by the sound of the Tower gun, - That the King was now in procession, - - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, - From the further defence of the Tory, - We carved not a line on his funeral stone, - But we left him alone in his glory. - -_Figaro in London_, 8th September, 1832. - - * * * * * - -There was another parody of these celebrated lines published just after -Mr. John O'Connell had threatened to die on the floor of the House of -Commons, a threat which, of course, gave rise to more laughter than -dismay:-- - - -LINES, - -(AFTER WOLFE) - - _Written on the threatened Death_ (_on the Floor of the House_) _of - John O'Connell_. - - Not a groan was heard, not a pitying note, - As down on the floor he hurried; - Not a member offered to lend his coat, - Or ask'd how he'd like to be buried - - We looked at him slily at dead of night, - Our backs adroitly turning, - That he might not see us laugh outright - By the lights so brightly burning. - - No useless advice we on him press'd, - Nor in argument we wound him; - But we left him to lie, and take his rest, - With his Irish _clique_ around him. - - Few and short were the speeches made, - And we spoke not a word in sorrow; - But we thought, as we look'd, though we leave him for dead, - He'll be fresh as a lark to-morrow. - - We thought, we'll be careful where we tread, - And avoid him where he's lying; - For if we should tumble over his head, - 'Twould certainly send us flying. - - Lightly they'll talk of him when they're gone, - And p'rhaps for his folly upbraid him; - But little he'll care, and again try it on, - Till the Serjeant-at-arms shall have stayed him. - - But half of us asked, "What's now to be done?" - When the time arrived for retiring, - And we heard the door-keeper say, "It's no fun - Our attendance to watch him requiring." - - Slowly and softly they shut the door, - After Radical, Whig, and Tory; - And muttering out, "We'll stop here no more," - They left him alone in his glory. - -_Punch_, December, 1847. - - * * * * * - - -"GRAVE SENTIT ARATRUM." - -"A GRIEVOUS THING HE FEELS IT TO BE PLOUGHED." - - He looked glum when he heard, by a friendly note - Which, of course, his chum sent in a hurry, - That, alas! he had no testamur got; - And he felt in a deuce of a flurry. - - He thought how he'd read at dead of night, - The page of Herodotus turning, - By the tallow-candle's flickering light, - Or the moderator burning. - - No ruthless coughing arose from his chest, - Nor did indigestion wound him; - But he said--as the worry was breaking his rest-- - "That Examiner--confound him!" - - "What's the odds?" were the words that he said; - But he choked not down his sorrow; - For he sadly remembered the hopes that were fled, - And pictured the "Governor's horror." - - Then he thought, as he hurled himself into bed, - And dashed his head down on the pillow, - That his foe, the tailor, would want to be paid, - And would quickly be sending his bill, oh! - - Very likely he thought (now his credit was gone), - "Oh! I wish with cold cash I had paid him; - But nothing he'll get: I'll be off to Boulogne," - And he went, out of Britain to shade him. - - Just after his heavy sleep, each tone, - As the clock struck the hour, was mocking, - And he fancied that many a ravenous dun - At the oak was sullenly knocking. - - He cautiously put out his head, and looked down - From his room in the second story: - He saw but the quad, and its paving of stone; - He was all alone,--in his glory (?) - - JEREMY DIDDLER, Oxford. - -_College Rhymes_ (T. & G. Shrimpton), Oxford, 1864. - - * * * * * - - -PARODY ON "THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE." - - "Not a laugh was heard, not a joyous note, - As our friend to the bridal we hurried; - Not a wit discharged his farewell shot, - As the bachelor went to be married. - - "We married him quietly to save his fright, - Our heads from the sad sight turning; - And we sighed as we stood by the lamp's dim light, - To think he was not more discerning. - - "To think that a bachelor free and bright, - And shy of the sex as we found him, - Should there at the altar, at dead of night, - Be caught in the snares that bound him. - - "Few and short were the words that we said, - Though of wine and cake partaking; - We escorted him home from the scene of dread, - While his knees were awfully shaking. - - "Slowly and sadly we marched him down, - From the first to the lowermost storey; - And we never have heard or seen the poor man - Whom we left alone in his glory." - -These lines appeared in _Notes and Queries_ June 27, 1868, and are said to -have been written by Thomas Hood. - - * * * * * - - -THE FLIGHT OF O'NEILL, THE INVADER OF CANADA. - -"General O'Neill, who, at the head of the Fenian forces recently invaded -Canada, seems to combine, together with his love for Ireland, a certain -amount of affection for the ordinary enjoyments of life; for one complaint -against him is, that the morning of the attack, when awakened at three -o'clock by a captain belonging to his quarters, he merely said, "All -right!" and fell asleep again. On two subsequent occasions he was awakened -with no more practical result, and on being called a fourth time, got -up. Even then, however, he declined to proceed at once with the glorious -work of liberating Ireland, but said, "He guessed he would wait till -breakfast." After breakfast this great patriot advanced at the head of his -forces, but being surprised by a party of Canadian Volunteers, who fired -upon the Fenians, immediately retired to his quarters, where he was found -very comfortably lodged, and was arrested by General Foster, the United -States Marshal, for a breach of the neutrality laws." - - Not a gun was heard, not a bugle note, - As over the border he hurried; - He took to his heels without firing a shot, - Only looking tremendously flurried. - - No ridiculous scruples inspired his breast, - As over the ground he jolted; - Not caring a straw what became of the rest, - He unhesitatingly bolted. - - And snug in his quarters, at dead of night, - The Yankee General found him; - His bed all ready, his candle alight, - And bottles of whisky around him. - - And when at his door came the clanking and noise, - His courage all sank to zero; - For, though at the head of the Fenian "bhoys," - He wasn't exactly a hero. - - When the Britishers find that he really is gone, - In impotent rage they upbraid him; - If Mr. O'NEILL they had laid hands upon - At that moment, they surely had flay'd him! - - Few and short were the words they said-- - They only expressed their sorrow - That they hadn't caught him, and put him to bed - Where he wouldn't wake up on the morrow. - - But safe in New York, under FOSTER'S convoy, - He has gone to tell his own story; - Where "shut up" very much, this broth of a boy - Is at present alone in his glory! - - _Judy_, 22nd June, 1870. - - * * * * * - - -"RUNNING HIM IN." - -_By a Good Templar in the Force._ - - A groan was heard, like a funeral note, - From a toper in mud half-buried, - And our Serjeant "Drunk and incapable" wrote, - When his form to the station we hurried. - - We hurried him swiftly at dead of night, - And oft with our truncheons spurning, - Under many a gas-lamp's flickering light, - Through alley and crooked turning. - - In rags and tatters the toper was dressed, - For in poverty drink had bound him. - And he lay like a pig in a gutter at rest, - With little pigs squeaking around him. - - We lifted him up, but he fell as one dead, - And we tumbled him into a barrow; - And the idle spectators shouted and said, - "He'll be fined, with a caution, to-morrow!" - - Lightly they talk of the _spirit_ that's gone, - And o'er empty bottles upbraid him; - But little he'll reck, as they let him sleep on - In the cell where the constables laid him. - - No curtains had he to his lonely bed, - And a rough deal plank was his pillow; - He will wake with parched throat and an aching head, - And thirst that would drink up a billow. - - Roughly, yet sadly, we laid him down, - That toper, worn, haggard, and hoary, - And wished that the dissolute youth of the town - A warning might take from his story. - - _Funny Folks._ - - * * * * * - - -THE MURDER OF "MACBETH." - - Not a hiss was heard, not an angry yell, - Though of both 'twas surely deserving-- - When, cruelly murdered, _Macbeth_ fell - By the hand of the eminent Irving. - - He murdered him, lengthily, that night, - With his new and original reading. - Till his efforts left him in sorry plight, - And the sweat on his brow was bleeding. - - Five different garments enclosed his breast, - Five brand-new dresses were found him, - Though in never a one did he look at rest, - Though the people might sleep around him. - - Many and long were the words he said, - Till we wished in fervent sorrow, - We could only get home to our welcome bed, - And we vowed not to come on the morrow. - - We thought as he quivered, and gasped, and strode, - And made us long for our pillow, - That a taste of his tragic genius he owed - To our cousins far over the billow. - - Even there, though his fame before has gone; - He may find it melt in a minute; - But little he'll reck, if they let him act on - In a play with a murderer in it. - - But half the heavy play was o'er - When we seized the chance for retiring, - And left him grovelling about on the floor, - With his friends all madly admiring. - - Sadly we thought as we went away, - From his acting so dreary and gory, - That the eminent I, if he's wise will not play, - _Macbeth_ any more, if for glory. - - _The Figaro_, 16th October, 1875. - -This critic, who left the theatre before the tragedy was half over, was, -of course, eminently qualified to point out the shortcomings of Mr. Irving -in the part of _Macbeth_, But perhaps the critic had forgotten that the -leading character has one, or two, rather strong situations towards the -end of the play, which he should have witnessed before condemning the -actor. - - * * * * * - - -THE BURIAL OF THE TITLE, "QUEEN." - - Not a cheer was heard, not a joyous note, - As the Bill to the tellers we hurried; - So solemn and dread is the midnight vote - When a title has to be buried. - - We rolled up our sleeve and took off our coat, - To make it a question burning; - We strained every nerve to set it afloat, - The hate of all Englishmen earning. - - They hurled at us gibe, and mud so foul - (There's much of it still adhering), - And we knew by the distant and random growl - That the foe was sullenly sneering. - - Oh, little we reck of the name that's fled - (That Lowe's a most impudent monkey); - For "Empreth" sounds sweetly when lispingly said - By the lips of some courtly flunkey. - - 'Twas fondly imagined a title of might, - Renowned in an ancient story; - But we dug a deep hole and rammed it in tight, - And left it alone in its glory! - - _The Figaro_, April 8, 1876. - -One of the arguments against Mr. Disraeli's Titles Bill, was that -_Empress_ was likely altogether to supersede the older, and more -constitutional, title of _Queen_. The lapse of but a few years has shown -how groundless was this apprehension, for except in state documents or -Daily Telegraph leaders, the title of Empress is never employed. - - * * * * * - -In November, 1879, _The Weekly Dispatch_ (a high-class London Liberal -newspaper) commenced a series of Prize Competitions, the subjects, and -methods of treatment, being indicated by the Prize Editor. On April 18, -1880, the prize of Two Guineas was for the best Poem on the Downfall of -the Beaconsfield Government, in the form of a parody of "The Burial of -Sir John Moore." It was awarded to Mr. D. Evans, 63, Talma Road, Brixton, -S.E., for the following:-- - - -(_From a Tory point of view._) - - Not a hum was heard, not a jubilant note, - As away from the House we all scurried-- - Not a Liberal's tear bedewed the spot, - The grave where our hopes were buried. - - We buried them sadly and deep that night, - For we had no hope of returning, - By Reason's bright returning light, - And our hearts were sadly yearning. - - Few indeed were the words we said, - But though few they were pregnant with sorrow, - As we all in search of Benjamin fled - To inspire us with hope for the morrow. - - No gaudy star was upon his breast, - No ermine cloak was around him, - Yet he stood like a man who had feathered his nest; - And he smiled at us all, confound him! - - We thought, as we left with a silent tread, - Of Cross and his dreadful Water, - That the Liberals would soon be seen there instead, - And we far away from that quarter. - - Lightly they'll talk of us when we have gone, - And of course they've a right to abuse us; - But little we'd care if they'd let us keep on - In our places and wouldn't refuse us. - - But scarce had our sad hearts aching done. - When again to the fight we were guided; - And we knew that the foe had a victory won, - That our fate was indeed decided. - - Slowly and sadly we all went down - With the blood of our brethren all gory; - But our sun at Midlothian has now gone down, - So farewell to the hopes of the Tory. - -Another parody on the same subject by Mr. James Robinson, of 59, Lyal -Road, North Bow, was also inserted:-- - - Not a sigh was heard, not a tear-drop fell, - As its corpse from the hustings we hurried; - But we felt more anxious than tongue can tell - To get the thing decently buried. - - With a woodcutter's help we dug it a grave-- - (It was deep and contained some water)-- - All willingly helped, and the sexton gave - An address on its deeds of slaughter. - - With a "brilliant" lie we bedecked its breast, - In a "cloak of deceit" we wound it, - So it lay like a hypocrite taking its rest, - With its weapons all around it. - - Brief and stern was the service said, - In its own peculiar lingo; - By a Hebrew scribe was a chapter read - From the gospel according to Jingo. - - Lightly we'll speak of the Ministry gone. - Nor o'er its cold ashes upbraid it, - We'll forgive a good deal if it only sleeps on - In the dishonoured past where we've laid it. - -The Editor added the following remarks:-- - - "Among the numerous parodies of 'The Burial of Sir John Moore' - there are some, faulty in parts, in which there are remarkably - vigorous verses. One competitor, for instance, treating Jingo as a - personality, says:-- - - 'No well-bunged beer-cask confined his breast, - Nor in cerement white we bound him; - But he lay 'neath a water-butt, taking his rest, - With a pool of that liquid around him.' - -Another winds up thus:-- - - 'Smiling and gladly we toppled him down, - That image of humbug so gory; - We wrote but one line--'Here, under this stone, - _Lies_ bombast, false glitter, and glory.' - -And a third is particularly energetic in his speculations as to the -behaviour of the Premier on hearing of the defeat of his policy:-- - - 'He thought, as he holloa'd aloud in bed, - And pommelled his lonely pillow, - He was pitching away into Gladstone's head; - And his fury was like the billow.'" - - -THE BURIAL OF THE MASHER. - -"Mr. Burnand's good-natured but well-directed chaff in 'Blue Beard,' at -the Gaiety, may be said to have ridiculed that curious product of modern -civilisation, the Masher, out of existence. His continued life now seems -to be impossible."--_Daily Paper._ - - Not a laugh was heard, not a cheery sound, - As the song to an _encore_ was hurried; - Not a man in the stalls to cheer was found, - On the night that the Masher was buried. - - He'd come before to a parlous pass, - Sore stricken by TRUTH'S endeavour; - But "Blue Beard" gave him his _coup de grâce_. - And finished him once for ever! - - It killed and buried him sitting there, - By ridicule on him turning; - 'Neath the shifting lime-light's brilliant glare, - With the footlights brightly burning. - - His wired gardenia graced his breast, - And sodden in scent one found him, - As he sat there sucking his stick with zest, - With his three-inch collar around him. - - A deep red groove in his puffy throat, - That collar's starched edge was flaying; - And the bow trimmed pumps, on which youths now dote, - Were the clocks of his hose displaying. - - Pearl-headed pins kept his tie in place. - And his shirt front's wealth of whiteness - Made yet more sallow his pasty face, - More dazzling his chest-stud's brightness. - - No thought worth thinking was in his breast, - Nor on his dull brain was flashing, - But he sat encased in his board-like vest, - Equipped for the evening's mashing. - - But few and short were the leers he gave - At the chorus-girls singing before him; - For cold and swift as an ocean wave, - The chaff of Burnand swept o'er him. - - And vainly he turn'd, sore at heart and sick, - Some hope from the "Johnnies" to borrow; - For they steadfastly sucked every one his stick, - And most bitterly thought of the morrow. - - They thought, as the dramatist chaffed them to death, - And foreshadowed their doom so plainly, - That they next morning, with feverish breath, - Might demand devilled prawns all vainly; - - That their faith in the curried egg might go, - And a cayenne salad not serve them, - Nor champagne cheer when their "tone" was low, - Nor a _fricassee'd_ oyster nerve them! - - They felt that the power to attention gain - Would surely henceforth evade them, - And that public contempt would let them remain - In the grave where a "Blue Beard" had laid them. - - And so, when Burnand his task had done, - And received a right warm ovation, - Of all the Mashers was left not one; - 'Twas complete annihilation. - - And they buried them there, where they first were born, - With gardenias on them clustered-- - In the mashing garbs that they long had worn-- - Near the stalls where they'd nightly mustered. - - Blithely and gaily they laid them down, - Nor heard was a sob nor a sigh there; - And they carved not a line and they raised not a stone-- - For the Mashers were worthy of neither! - - _Truth_, March 22, 1883. - - * * * * * - - -NEVER JOHN MOORE; OR, THE REJECTED SUITOR. - - (An old story by an Old Bachelor.) - - (_With sincere apologies to the Rev. Charles Wolfe--for the sheep's - clothing._) - -I. - - He felt highly absurd, as he put on his coat, - And, of course, exceedingly worried; - He swore he'd never return to the spot, - As out of the front door he scurried. - -II. - - He tried to banish her face from his sight, - She for whom he was yearning; - Hadn't Fred said, he knew he was right, - And that she was fond of spurning. - -III. - - But who'd have thought--ah, even guessed-- - That after she had caught and bound him; - It was to be but a flirting jest. - An impartial joke to sound him. - -IV. - - Few and short were the words he had said, - Only this--only this, "love be mine." - She gave him a rap with her fan on his head, - And laughingly left him to pine - -V. - - What was he to do? should he hate her instead? - Or weeping wail, waly willow; - Or wiping away the tears he had shed, - Launch in some fresh peccadillo? - -VI. - - Lightly they'd talked in the days that were gone, - In arbours and in kitchen gardens; - Only to find _his_ poor heart torn - By devotion, which her hard heart hardens. - -VII. - -L'ENVOI. - - The moral of this I hope you won't shun, - Don't be in your mind too enquiring, - Don't fall in love, or as sure as a gun, - You're not cared for by her you're admiring. - -VIII. - - Talk to them civilly and leave them alone, - And this is the end of my story. - And as I don't mean to alter my tone, - I drink to all flirts "con amore." - -From _Cribblings from the Poets_ (Jones & Piggott), Cambridge, 1883. - - -A FUNERAL AFTER SIR JOHN MOORE'S, FURNISHED BY AN UNDERTAKER. - - Not a mute one word at the funeral spoke - Till away to the pot-house we hurried, - Not a bearer discharged his ribald joke - O'er the grave where our "party" we buried. - - We buried him dearly with vain display, - Two hundred per cent. returning, - Which we made the struggling orphans pay, - All consideration spurning. - - With plumes of feathers his hearse was drest, - Pall and hatbands and scarfs we found him; - And he went, as a Christian, unto his rest, - With his empty pomp around him. - - None at all were the prayers we said, - And we felt not the slightest sorrow, - But we thought, as the rites were perform'd o'er the dead, - Of the bill we'd run up on the morrow. - - We thought as he sunk to his lowly bed - That we wish'd they'd cut it shorter. - So that we might be off to the Saracen's Head, - For our gin, and our pipes, and our porter. - - Lightly we speak of the "party" that's gone, - Now all due respect has been paid him; - Ah! little he reck'd of the lark that went on - Near the spot where we fellows had laid him. - - As soon as our sable task was done, - Nor a moment we lost in retiring; - And we feasted and frolick'd, and poked our fun, - Gin and water each jolly soul firing, - - Blithely and quickly we quaff'd it down, - Singing song, cracking joke, telling story; - And we shouted and laughed all the way up to Town, - Riding outside the hearse in our glory. - - _Punch_, January 5, 1850. - -At the time when the above parody appeared there was an agitation on foot -to reform the costliness and vain display at funerals. _Punch_, both in -his cartoons and his letterpress, was exceedingly bitter against the -undertakers. - -The matter was so energetically taken up by the press and the public, that -funerals were soon shorn of their costly mummery, and are now conducted on -much more sensible and economical principles than they were in 1850. - -In reference to the disputed authority of the ode "Not a drum was heard," -the Rev. T. W. Carson, of Dublin, has kindly forwarded a _facsimile_ of -the letter, (to which reference was made on page 105), from the Rev. C. -Wolfe to his friend Mr. John Taylor. It varies slightly from the version -already given, and seems conclusively to establish Wolfe's title as author -of the poem. - -It runs thus:-- - - "I have completed the Burial of Sir John Moore, and will here - inflict it upon you; you have no one but yourself to blame, for - praising the two stanzas (?) that I told you so much;-- - - (_Here follows the poem._) - - "Pray write soon--you may direct as usual to College, and it will - follow me to the country. Give my love to Armstrong, and believe me, - my dear John, ever yours, - - (Signed) CHARLES WOLFE." - -This is addressed-- - - "JOHN TAYLOR, ESQ., - At the Rev. Mr. Armstrong's, - Clonoulty, - Cashel." - -Date of postmark, Se, 6, 1816. - -The handwriting is small, neat, and clear, and there is only one slight -verbal correction, which occurs in the last verse; in verses 3 and 4 a few -end words have been torn off by the seal. - -There is a postscript, as it has no reference, however, to the poem, it is -needless to reprint it. - - * * * * * - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 4: This appears to be a covert allusion to the lady-bird.] - -[Footnote 5: We shall not publish the vocabulary with this song.--ED.] - - - - -Thomas Hood. - -1798--MAY 3, 1845. - - -In Hood's poems a rare blending is found of wit, fancy, humour and pathos; -and as his personal character was amiable, gentle and good, his memory is -cherished by Englishmen with peculiar affection and respect. - -Thomas Hood was born in London, and was the son of a member of the then -well-known firm of booksellers, Vernor, Hood, and Sharp. - -Hood was intended for an engraver, and although he soon deserted that -profession, he acquired a sufficient knowledge of it to enable him to -illustrate his own works, which he did in a quaintly comical manner. His -sketches, though generally crude and inartistic, admirably explain his -meaning, and never certainly did puns find such a prolific, and humourous, -pictorial exponent as Hood. - -Hood's eldest son (Thomas Hood the younger) was also the author of several -novels and some humourous poetry. He was for many years editor of _Fun_. - -Of Hood's poems the four most usually selected for parody and imitation -are, _The Song of the Shirt;_ _The Bridge of Sighs;_ _The Dream of Eugene -Aram;_ and a pretty little piece entitled _I remember, I remember_. - -It is a somewhat curious fact that one of the most earnest and pathetic -of Hood's poems should first have appeared in _Punch_. _The Song of the -Shirt_ will be found on page 260 of vol. 5, 1843, of that journal. - -This dirge of misery awoke universal pity for the poor victims of the -slop-sellers and ready-made clothiers; but like most of the spasmodic -outbursts of British rage and indignation little permanent good resulted -from it. The machinists, and unattached out-door employés of the London -tailors, are probably worse off now than ever they were in Hood's time. - -As might have been expected from the wonderful popularity of _The Song of -the Shirt_ and its peculiarly catching rhythm, it has been the subject of -almost innumerable parodies, and has also served as the model for many -imitations of a serious nature. - - -TRIALS AND TROUBLES OF A TOURIST. - - In clothes, both muddy and wet, - Without hat--left on the fell; - A pedestrian sought, with a tottering gait, - Refreshment at this hotel. - He'd walked a long and weary way, - O'er mountain-top and moor; - And thus he mused, mid'st wind and rain, - As he approached the door. - - "I walk! walk! walk! - First climbing hills, and then down - Where the people are not to be seen, - Many miles from village or town. - Oh! haven't I been a dupe, - Pedestrian pleasure to seek, - When so quiet I might have stayed - At Redcar all the week." - - "I walk! walk! walk! - With my boots fast breaking up, - And walk! walk! walk! - Without either bite or sup. - Oh! that again I was at home, - To feel as I used to feel, - And not as now, in hunger and thirst, - With a doubly-blistered heel." - - "I walk! walk! walk! - Up to the knee in bog, - And loudly call, 'Lost! Lost!' - Surrounded by clouds and fog. - I walk! walk! walk! - Till my head begins to spin; - Oh! that I ne'er had scrambled out - The stream I tumbled in." - - "I walk! walk! walk! - With cheeks all swollen and red; - A nasty aching within my ears, - Rheumatics in my head. - I walk! walk! walk! - In trousers tattered and torn! - With every thread from foot to head - Quite soaked since early morn." - - "The day is fast wearing out, - And so are my boots and I; - The sleet blows in my face, - As with the breeze I sigh. - Although white fog I'm in, - Yet 'tis a dark look out - For one who hither has come for a change, - And cannot change a clout." - - "I walk! walk! walk! - And nothing can find to see; - While water and mud from out my boots - Is squirting up to each knee. - Talk of scenery! Bah! it's all stuff, - But the waterfall, I admit, - Is good, for it's running down my back, - And I've no dry place to sit." - - "I walk! walk! walk! - With my throat quite parched and dry; - No spirit to rouse my spirits up; - With pulse quite fevered and high. - I've a dropsy got outside, - Whilst inside there's a drought; - Oh! for a good warm draught within, - As a check to the draught without." - - "Walk! walk! walk! - I'll never come here again: - My holiday shall be spent elsewhere, - Free from fatigue and pain. - Or I'll stay at home with my wife, - Where a dry shirt I can wear;"-- - And worn out with misfortune's strife, - And almost weary of his life, - He sank in the old arm chair. - - JOHN REED APPLETON, F.S.A. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE SPURT. - - With hands all blistered and worn, - With eyes excited and red, - A boating man sat, in jersey and bags, - Awaiting the signal with dread. - Tug! tug! tug! - Every bone in his body is hurt; - And still, with a sigh and a dolorous shrug, - He sang the "Song of the Spurt!" - - "Work! work! work! - Till I shiver in every limb; - Work! work! work! - Till the eyes begin to swim - Steam, bucket, and pant, - Pant, bucket, and steam, - Till over the oar I almost faint, - And row along in a dream." - - "O, men, with sisters dear, - O, men, with pretty cousins, - I must mind and keep my form for the end-- - They'll be there on the barge by dozens! - Pull! pull! pull! - What is poverty, hunger, or dirt, - Compared with the more than double dread - Of catching a crab in the spurt!" - - With eyes excited and red, - With good hope of victory fired, - He was rowing along in his jersey and bags, - But feeling uncommonly tired! - Pull! pull! pull! - He began his full powers to exert; - Soon his boat would have been at the head of the river, - But when just at the barge--an unfortunate shiver - Made him catch a crab in the spurt! - - REMEX MORIBUNDUS. - -_College Rhymes_ (T. and G. Shrimpton), Oxford, 1865. - - * * * * * - - -THE DRIPPING SHEET. - -"This sheet, wrung out of cold or tepid water, is thrown around the body. -Quick rubbing follows, succeeded by the same operation with a dry sheet. -Its operation is truly _shocking_. Dress after to prevent remarks." - - -SONG OF THE SHEET. - -(_After Hood._) - - With nerves all shattered and worn, - With shouts terrific and loud, - A patient stood in a cold wet sheet-- - A Grindrod's patent shroud. - Wet, wet, wet, - In douche, and spray, and sleet, - And still, with a voice I shall never forget, - He sang the song of the sheet. - - "Drip, drip, drip, - Dashing, and splashing, and dipping; - And drip, drip, drip, - Till your fat all melts to dripping. - It's oh, for dry deserts afar, - Or let me rather endure - Curing with salt in a family jar, - If this is the water cure. - - "Rub, rub, rub, - He'll rub away life and limb; - Rub, rub, rub, - It seems to be fun for him. - Sheeted from head to foot, - I'd rather be covered with dirt; - I'll give you the sheet and the blankets to boot, - If you'll only give me my shirt. - - "Oh men, with arms and hands; - Oh men, with legs and shins; - It is not the sheet you're wearing out, - But human creatures' skins. - Rub, rub, rub, - Body, and legs, and feet, - Rubbing at once with a double rub, - A skin as well as a sheet. - - "My wife will see me no more-- - She'll see the bone of her bone - But never will see the flesh of her flesh, - For I'll have no flesh of my own: - The little that was my own, - They won't allow me to keep, - It's a pity that flesh should be so dear, - And water so very cheap. - - "Pack, pack, pack, - Whenever your spirit flags, - You're doomed by hydropathic laws - To be packed in cold wet rags: - Rolled up on bed or on floor-- - Or sweated to death in a chair; - But my chairman's rank--my shadow I'd thank - For taking my place in there. - - "Slop, slop, slop, - Never a moment of time, - Slop, slop, slop, - Slackened like masons' lime; - Stand and freeze or steam-- - Steam or freeze and stand; - I wish those friends had their tongues benumbed, - That told me to leave dry land. - - "Up, up, up, - In the morn before daylight, - The bathman cries, "Get up," - (I wish he were up for a fight). - While underneath the eaves, - The dry, snug swallows cling, - But give them a cold wet sheet to their backs, - And see if they'll come next spring. - - "Oh! oh! it stops my breath, - (He calls it short and sweet), - Could they hear me underneath, - I'll shout them from the street! - He says that in half an hour - A different man I'll feel - That I'll jump half over the moon and want - To walk into a meal. - - * * * * * - - "I feel more nerve and power, - And less of terror and grief; - I'm thinking now of love and hope-- - And now of mutton and beef. - This glorious scene will rouse my heart, - Oh, who would lie in bed? - I cannot stop, but jump and hop; - Going like needle and thread." - - With buoyant spirit upborne, - With cheeks both healthy and red; - The same man ran up the Malvern Crags, - Pitying those in bed. - Trip, trip, trip, - Oh, life with health is sweet; - And still in a voice both strong and quick, - Would that its tones could reach the sick, - He sang the Song of the Sheet. - -From _Health and Pleasure, or Malvern Punch_. By J. B. Oddfish, Esq., -M.P., L.L.D. (Malvern Patient, Doctor of Laughs and Liquids). - -Simpkin, Marshall and Co., London, 1865. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE STREET. - -(To the memory of the good, the genial, the large-hearted Thomas Hood, -this humble imitation of his "Song of the Shirt" is inscribed by the -writer). - -I. - - With lips all livid with cold, - And purple and swollen feet, - A woman, in rags, sat crouch'd on the flags, - Singing the Song of the Street! - "Starve! starve! starve! - Oh, God! 'tis a fearful night! - How the wind does blow the sleet and the snow! - Will it ever again be light? - -II. - - "I have rung at the 'Refuge' bell, - I have beat at the workhouse-door, - To be told again that I clamour in vain, - They are full--they can hold no more. - Starve! starve! starve! - Of the crowds that pass me by, - Some with pity, and some in pride, - But more with indifference turn aside, - And leave me here to die! - -III. - - - "Oh! you that sleep in beds, - With coverlet, quilt, and sheet, - Oh think when it snows what it is for those - That lie in the open street: - That lie in the open street, - On the cold and frozen stones, - When the winter's blast, as it whistles past, - Bites into the very bones. - -IV. - - "Oh! what with the wind without, - And what with the cold within, - I own I have sought to drive away thought - With that curse of the tempted--gin. - Drink! drink! drink! - Amid ribaldry, gas, and glare. - If there's hell on earth, - 'Tis the ghastly mirth - That maddens at midnight, there. - -V. - - "Oh you, that never have stray'd, - Because you have not been tried, - Oh look not down with a Pharisee's frown - On those that have swerv'd aside. - And you that hold the scales, - And you that glibly urge - That the only plan is the Prison van, - The Treadmill, or the Scourge. - -VI. - - "Oh, what are the lost to do? - To famish, and not to feel? - For days to go, and never to know - What it is to have one meal? - They cannot buy, they dare not beg, - They must either starve or steal. - - "Food--food--food! - If it be but a loaf of bread, - And a place to lie-- - And a place to die, - If it be but a workhouse bed! - If you will not give to those that live, - You at least _must_ bury the dead!" - -VIII. - - With lips all livid and blue, - And purple and swoll'n feet, - A woman, in rags, sat crouch'd on the flags, - And sang the Song of the Street. - As she ceased the doleful strain, - My homeward path I trod; - And the cry and the prayer, - Of that lost one there - Went up to the Throne of God. - - W. H. B. - -_The Standard_, February 16th, 1865. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE STUMP. - - Stump--stump--stump-- - Through market-place, pothouse, and dirt; - Stump--stump--stump-- - With a greasy mob fast to his skirt; - Having changed his coat to secure their vote, - Mr. Gladstone now changes his shirt. - And if he but ends as he does begin, - There is little doubt he will change his skin, - On the stump--stump--stump. - - Stump--stump--stump-- - Through Ormskirk, St. Helen's and Newton, - Whilst after him shout a rabble rout - Of electors "Ain't he a cute 'un?" - Stump--stump--stump-- - With the aid of rhetorical steam, - Till over his speeches we fall asleep, - And hear him stump in a dream; - Stump--stump--stump-- - For ever upon our ear. - Alas! that principle's so cheap, - And office is so dear! - Stump--stump--stump. - - _The Tomahawk_, November, 1868. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE FLIRT. - - With bosom weary and worn, - With eyelids painted and red, - A lady, just from a Duchess's ball, - Sat on the side of her bed. - Her sapphires were gleaming and rich, - And faultless her lace and her skirt, - And yet with a voice of dolorous pitch, - She sang the "Song of the Flirt." - - "Flirt, flirt, flirt! - When the lunch is scarcely begun! - Flirt, flirt, flirt! - Till the sickening supper is done - Ball and dinner, and rout, - Rout, and dinner, and ball, - Till I long for my bed to rest my head, - And in a wakeless slumber to fall." - - "Flirt, flirt, flirt! - Till the room begins to swim; - Flirt, flirt, flirt, - Till the eyes are starting and dim: - Beam, and falsehood, and frown, - Frown, and falsehood, and beam, - Till over my lyings I fall asleep, - And flirt my fan in a dream!" - - "Flirt, flirt, flirt! - My labour never ends; - And what are its wages? all true men's scorn, - And a dreary dearth of friends. - That shattered life--and this broken heart-- - And yon smile that shrines a sneer; - And a house so blank, my cousin I thank - For sometimes calling here!" - - "Oh! but to scent the breath - Of an honest man on my brow-- - To feel the throb of a worthy arm - Winding around me now; - For only one brief hour - To feel as the pure can feel, - To staunch with the power of hearty love - The wounds that refuse to heal!" - - With bosom weary and worn, - With eyelids painted and red, - A woman, fresh from a great duke's ball, - Knelt by the side of her bed. - Her rubies were ruddy and rich, - And perfect her bodice and skirt-- - She looked like a splendid and tigerly witch, - And yet with a voice of dolorous pitch - She sang the "Song of the Flirt." - - F. C. W., Exeter College, Oxon. - -_College Rhymes_ (T. Shrimpton and Son), Oxford, 1872. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE WIRE. - - With finger cunning and firm, - With one eye and a crooked back, - An old man, clad in an old pair of bags, - Was carving a profile in black. - Snip! snip! snip! - Cold, wet, or whatever the day, - And still, with a voice of a ludicrous crack, - He croaked the "Wirer's Lay." - - "Wire! wire! wire! - While men to their lectures fly, - And wire! wire! wire! - Where the Turl runs into the High! - It's O, to be the Vice, - Or a Prince in his cap and gown, - It's O, to be able to pay the price - To be stuck round my hat's old crown. - - "Wire! wire! wire! - Till the nose begins to be clear; - Wire! wire! wire! - Till the lips and the chin appear! - Hair and shoulder and brow, - Brow and shoulder and hair, - Till over the likeness I chuckle and wait - For a gent who's a moment to spare. - - "O, men, with sisters dear! - O, men, with mothers to please! - It is not for them my portraits are bought, - But for dearer far than these! - Snip! snip! snip! - With a point as keen as a dart, - Carving at once a likeness to suit, - And a place in the loved one's heart. - - "But why do I talk of her? - The fair one of unknown name, - I hardly think she could tell the face, - They all seem much the same-- - They all seem much the same, - Because of the types I keep; - 'Tis odd that faces should be so like, - And yet I work them so cheap! - - "Wire! wire! wire! - My labour never flags; - And what are its wages? a copper or two, - Which I lose through the holes in my bags, - A nod of the head, or a passing joke,-- - A laugh,--a freshman's stare,-- - Or a gent so bland, when I ask him to stand - While I carve him his portrait there. - - "Wire! wire! wire! - In the sound of S. Mary's chimes, - Wire! wire! wire! - As specials wire to the _Times!_ - Hair, and shoulder, and brow, - Brow, and shoulder, and hair, - Till the trick is done, and I pocket the coin, - As I finish it off with care. - - "Wire! wire! wire! - In the dull month of Novem- - ber--wire! wire! wire, - When Oxford is bright with Commem. - While under light parasols, - The pretty girls slily glance, - As if to show how nice they would look - If they'd only give me a chance. - - "Oh! but to catch that face - Which health and beauty deck-- - That hat posed on her head, - And the curl that falls on her neck; - For only a minute or two - To sketch as I could when I tried - To take off the Vice as he passed one day, - And the Prince in my hat by his side. - - "Oh! but for a minute or two! - A moment which soon will have gone! - No blessed second for fair or brunette, - Nor even to copy a don! - A little sketching would bring some brass, - But in its musty case, - My scissors must lie, for I have but one eye - With which to look out for a face!" - - With finger cunning and firm, - With one eye and a crooked back, - An old man clad in an old pair of bags, - Was carving a profile in black. - Snip! snip! snip! - Cold, wet, or whatever the day, - And, still with a voice of a ludicrous crack, - Would I could describe its cadaverous knack-- - He croaked the "Wirer's Lay." - - ARTHUR-A-BLAND. - -This parody appeared in _The Shotover Papers_ for May, 1874 (J. Vincent, -High Street, Oxford), it will certainly appeal more to old Oxford men, -from its allusions, than to the general reader. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF LOVE. - - With bosom weary and sad, - With eyelids heavy and red, - A maiden sat, in maidenly grace, - Thinking o'er pleasures dead. - Sigh! sigh! sigh! - In misery, sorrow, and tears, - She sang, in a voice of melody, - The plaintive song of her fears. - - Love! love! love! - Whilst the birds are waking from rest; - And love! love! love! - Till the sun sinks in the west; - It's oh! to be in the grave, - Where hope's false dream is not, - Where doubts ne'er rise to bedim the eyes, - If this is woman's lot! - -Here follow nine more verses in an equally plaintive style, and of no -particular interest. - - From _The Figaro_, February 28, 1874. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE CRAM. - - With fingers trembling and warm, - With eyelids heavy and red, - A schoolboy sat, in true schoolboy style, - His hand supporting his head. - Throb! throb! throb! - With frantic excitement and dread, - And still with a look of dolor and pain, - He sat on the side of his bed. - - "Throb! throb! throb! - In my chamber next the roof; - And work! work! work! - From my friends I must keep aloof; - French and German and Greek, - Greek and German and French, - Till my brow grows damp, and my breath comes hard, - And my agonised hands I clench. - - "Work! work! work! - While my cousins are laughing beneath, - And work! work! work! - Till I scarcely can draw my breath; - It's oh! to prepare! prepare! - My head with knowledge to cram, - Not a word to say! not a moment to spare! - I'm going in for Exam! - - "Work! work! work! - Till the brain begins to swim, - And work! work! work! - Till my eyes are heavy and dim; - Greek and German and French, - French and German and Greek, - Till over the problems I have a nap, - And work them out in my sleep. - - "Throb! throb! throb! - My courage is ebbing fast! - Work! work! work! - I fear that my brain won't last! - Throb! throb! throb! - O come and help me cram! - I'm going to be a lunatic, - If plucked in this Exam! - - "O men with cousins dear! - O men with mothers and wives! - I'd cram you, if I had you here, - Within an inch of your lives! - But Examiners' hearts are hard, - And their wisdom is but a sham; - And little they care what we have to bear, - Or how hard we need to cram! - - "Oh! but to play a game - With my happy friends below! - Oh! but to make a pun, - Or try--but 'tis all 'no go'-- - So they for me may wish, - But I must stay and cram; - Oh, bother it! I'm just 'done up' - With this horrible Exam!" - - With fingers trembling and warm, - With eyelids heavy and red, - A schoolboy sat in true schoolboy style, - His hand supporting his head. - Throb! throb! throb! - And cram! cram! cram! - And still with a look of dolor and pain, - He studied and crammed with might and main, - To pass the dreaded Exam! - - A. P. - -_The Dunheved Mirror_, Cornwall, December, 1876. - - * * * * * - - -THE SLAVE OF THE PEN. - -I. - - With fingers inky and cold, - With eyelids heavy and red, - A scribbler sat through the dreary night, - Spinning "Copy," at morn to be read. - Scratch! scratch! scratch! - In a gas-lighted steamy den, - And still, in a voice of dolorous pitch, - He sang the song of the pen. - -II. - - "Scratch! scratch! scratch! - While engines are shaking the roof; - Scratch! scratch! scratch! - Till the "Devil" appears with a proof. - And it's oh! to be a slave - Of the pen, whether steel or quill, - Is as bad as being a worthless knave - Doing his month at the 'mill.' - -III. - - "Scratch! scratch! scratch! - Is it farce or tragedy grim, - Making up the requisite batch, - With fact, and fancy, and whim? - It fritters away my life, - In the flow of this inky stream. - And over the copy I fall asleep, - And punctuate in a dream." - - * * * * * - - Oh! husband with slippered feet; - Oh! wife in morning gown: - Coming down to breakfast, pleased to read - The latest news of the town-- - Think of the dismal scratch - Of these midnight slaves of the pen. - Forgive them a caustic, or feeble phrase, - And remember they are but men. - - _Funny Folks_, January 9th, 1875. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE SWORD. - - Weary, and wounded, and worn, wounded and ready to die, - A soldier they left, all alone and forlorn, on the field of the - battle to lie. - The dead and the dying alone could their presence and pity afford, - Whilst, with a sad and terrible tone, he sang ... the Song of the - Sword. - "Fight--fight--fight! though a thousand fathers die; - Fight--fight--fight! though a thousand children cry! - Fight--fight--fight! while mothers and wives lament; - And fight--fight--fight! while millions of money are spent. - - "Fight--fight--fight! should the cause be foul or fair, - Though all that's gained is an empty name, and a tax too great to - bear; - An empty name, and a paltry fame, and thousands lying dead; - Whilst every glorious victory must raise the price of bread. - War--war--war! fire, and famine, and sword; - Desolate fields and desolate towns, and thousands scattered abroad, - With never a home, and never a shed, whilst kingdoms perish and fall; - And hundreds of thousands are lying dead, ... and all for nothing at - all! - - "War--war--war! musket, and powder, and ball-- - Ah! what do we fight so for? ah! why have we battles at all? - 'Tis Justice must be done, they say, the nation's honour to keep; - Alas! that Justice should be so dear, and human life so cheap! - War--war--war! misery, murder, and crime; - Are all the blessings I've seen in thee, from my youth to the present - time. - Misery, murder, and crime--crime, misery, murder, and woe; - Ah! would I had known in my younger days half the horrors which now - I know." - - Weary, and wounded, and worn, wounded and ready to die, - A soldier they left, all alone and forlorn, on the field of the - battle to lie. - The dead and the dying alone could their presence and pity afford, - And thus with a sad and a terrible tone (oh! would that these truths - were more perfectly known!) he sang the Song of the Sword. - - ANONYMOUS. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF A SOT. - -Words composed by Bro. J. B. Davies, P.M. (753). - -_Dedicated to George Cruikshank, Esq., by his kind permission._ - - With a visage pale and wan, - With a vacant stare of eye; - The wreck of a man, and a friend, I saw, - In a tavern standing by. - Drink, drink, drink, - Was the demon that urged him on; - And yet still with a husky voice did he call - For drink, till "his pence were gone." - - Drink, drink, drink, - From morning until night! - Drink, drink, drink, - By the glare of bright gaslight. - Oh! fearful sight to see, - And a dreadful thought to think, - That man, who should rule, a slave should be - To that fearful demon, drink. - - Drink, drink, drink, - Till power of sense is gone, - Drink, drink, drink, - Till it's of health and wealth both shorn; - Beer, brandy, gin and rum, - Rum, brandy, gin and beer, - Till the glorious form of manhood's lost - In the beast that you now appear! - - Oh! men with thoughtful minds, - Oh! men with a reason fair, - Tread not in the paths that drunkards go-- - From demon drink, stand clear. - Drink, drink, drink, - Both in slums and great highway, - Is a curse that we too often meet - In our walks by night or day. - - But why do I thus depict - That fell demon of the soul? - I do but so that my fellow men - Themselves from drink control. - Themselves from drink control, - Because of the scenes we see! - Oh, God! to think that man should seek - In drink his misery! - - Drink, drink, drink, - But soon the time will come, - And what will be the end? a soul that's lost, - A drunkard's wretched home - Where sorrow is found, and mark the cost-- - Neither victuals, fire, or light - With a starving wife near the close of life - To meet the drunkard's sight! - - Drink, drink, drink, - From morning until night, - Drink, drink, drink, - 'Tis the drunkard's sole delight. - Beer, brandy, gin, and rum, - Rum, brandy, gin, and beer, - Till his health is gone and his wealth as well, - For the demon nought will spare. - - Drink, drink, drink, - In mansion as well as in cot, - 'Tis drink, drink, drink, - With the highest and lowest sot; - While toiling thousands sleep - Their rest of calm content, - In gilded palaces round about, - The night's in riot spent. - - Oh! that the world would shun, - That demon in form of drink; - And would reason within themselves - And from its presence shrink! - Oh! how might the soul of wayward man, - Rejoice in freedom then-- - And be better far in health and wealth-- - And better far as men. - - Oh! but that men would see, - The sorrow that drink entails! - The orphan's cry and the madman's shout, - As well the widow's wails. - A curse to body, as well as soul, - Sends thousands to their grave; - And makes of Man, God's noblest work, - A low dejected slave. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF "THE CASE." - -(_A Reminiscence of the late Session_). - - With spirits drooping and worn, - With eyelids heavy as lead, - The members sat on their seats in the House, - And wearily longed for bed; - While "Tich, Tich, Tich," - With gruesome and long-drawn face, - "The Doctor," with voice of dolorous pitch, - Sang the Song of "the Case." - - "Tich, Tich, Tich, - In spite of all reproof; - And Tich, Tich, Tich, - Though the members stand aloof, - It's I that ought to be classed - Along with Chatham and Burke, - And I'll never cease to raise my voice - Against such monstrous work!" - - "Tich, Tich, Tich, - Till the brain begins to swim, - Tich, Tich, Tich, - Till their eyes are heavy and dim. - Stream, and minnow, and twitch, - Minnow, and twitch, and stream, - Till over the _tattoo_ they fall asleep, - And see it done in a dream." - - "O, men, so callous and blind-- - O, men, so bloated and rich-- - It isn't Orton you're locking up, - But the real and only 'Tich!' - Tich, Tich, Tich, - 'Prison'd, dishonour'd, opprest, - Stitching at once with his sewing-machine, - A shroud as well as a vest." - - (_Four verses omitted here._) - - With spirits drooping and worn. - With eyelids as heavy as lead, - The members sat in their place in the House, - And wearily longed for bed; - While Tich, Tich, Tich, - With gruesome and long-drawn face, - "The Doctor," with voice of dolorous pitch, - (Ah me! to have to listen to sich), - Sang the Song of "the Case." - - _Funny Folks_, October 2nd, 1875. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE TURK IN 1877. - - With arguments tattered and worn, - With facts long torn to a shred, - The statesman rose in eloquent rage - To ply his political trade. - Stump, stump, stump, - Is this the successor of Burke, - Who, with a voice of dolorous pitch, - Still sings his song of the Turk? - - Turk, Turk, Turk! - While the Czar is biting the dust. - And Turk, Turk, Turk, - The incarnation of lust. - It's O to be a slave, - Along with the barbarous Turk, - Where women have never a soul to save, - And only a body for--work! - - Turk, Turk, Turk! - Till the brain begins to swim. - Turk, Turk, Turk, - Till the audience is eager and grim. - Rape, and outrage, and murder, - And outrage, murder, and rape, - Till stories, long since disproved, appear - To assume a bodily shape. - - O, men, with sisters dear! - O, men, with mothers and wives! - These are things that are wearing away - Bulgarian Christian lives. - Stump, stump, stump, - It's not uncongenial work, - To be damning away, with a double tongue, - The Tory as well as the Turk. - - Turk, Turk, Turk! - My labour never flags, - Yet, what are its wages? A Nottingham feast, - And a suit of political rags, - A broken party, a shattered name, - A smile from the "Daily News," - A bloody war, and a future so blank - That my mind the thought eschews. - - Turk, Turk, Turk! - On the chill October night, - And Turk, Turk, Turk, - When the weather is warm and bright. - And yet, underneath the theme - A longing for power lurks. - So the people of England show me their backs, - And twit me about my Turks. - - Oh, but to breathe the air - Of the Treasury Bench so sweet, - With never a soul above my head, - And Lord Beaconsfield under my feet! - Oh, but for one short hour, - To feel as I used to feel, - When the Liberal Government was in power, - And I was the man at the wheel! - - Oh, but for one short hour! - A period however brief!-- - No blessed leisure for Power or Hope, - But only time for grief! - A little writing eases my mind-- - A pamphlet, a postcard, a note-- - Yet my pen must stop, for each hot ink-drop - May cost my party a vote. - - With statements tattered and worn, - With facts distorted and cooked, - The statesman may hope that his share in the war - Will perchance be overlooked, - Turk, Turk, Turk! - 'Tis vain the truth to shirk, - While thousands of bleeding corpses cry, - "Your pamphlets and speeches have made us die, - And we hope you are proud of your work." - - _They are Five_, by W. E. G. (David Bogue), London. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE FLIRT. - -(_Hood's Own--for Somebody Else._) - - In the loudest things that are worn, - With her cheek a peculiar red, - A maiden sat, in a gentleman's vest,-- - This one idea in her head: - To be stitched, stitched, stitched, - Yet a little more tight in her skirt, - The while, with her voice disdainfully pitched, - She sang the "Song of the Flirt!" - - "Work, work, work. - In the broiling drive and row, - And work, work, work, - At the stifling crush and show. - And I'm so sick of it all, - That to-morrow I'd marry a Turk, - If he'd ask me--I would! For, after this, - Yes,--_that_ would be Christian work! - - "Work, work, work, - On the lawn in the lazy shade; - Work, work, work, - In the blaze of the baked parade. - Tea, and tennis, and band,-- - Band, and tennis, and tea:-- - If I can but ogle an eldest son, - They're all the same to me. - - "You men, do you dare to sneer, - And point to your sisters and wives!-- - Because they simper 'Not nice, my dear;'-- - As if they had ne'er in their lives - Been stitched, stitched, stitched, - Each prude in her own tight skirt, - And wouldn't have been, without a blush, - Had she had the chance--a _Flirt!_ - - "And why do I talk of a blush? - Have I much of Modesty known? - Why, no. Though, at times, her crimson cheek - Grows not unlike my own. - Yet strange that, not for my life, - Could I redden as she does, deep. - I wonder why colour called up's so dear,-- - Laid on should come so cheap. - - "But, work, work, work, - With powder, and puff, and pad: - And, work, work, work, - For every folly and fad! - With Imogen's artless gaze? - No?--Phryne's brazen stare! - With soul undone, but body made up, - I've all the fun of the fair. - - "So I work, work, work! - My labour never fags. - And what are its wages? A Spinster's doom, - And a place on the roll of hags. - Still I ogle away by the wall,-- - A playful kittenish thing; - Autumn well written all over my face, - Though my feet have lost their spring. - - "So at times, when I'm out of breath, - And the men go off in a pack - To dangle about some chit just 'out,'-- - Who smirks like a garrison hack,-- - I try for a short half hour - To feel as I used to feel - When a girl, if my boldness was all assumed, - My hair, at least, was real. - - "And at times, for a short half hour, - It seems a sort of relief - To think of Fred, and the few bright days - Before he came to grief. - My work? May be! Had I a heart, - My tears might flow apace; - But tears must stop--when every drop - Would carry away one's face!" - - In the loudest things that are known, - With her cheek a peculiar red, - A maiden sat, in a gentleman's vest,-- - This one idea in her head: - To be stitched, stitched, stitched, - Yet a little more tight in her skirt; - The while with her voice disdainfully pitched - (Some ears at the sound, I wis, might have itched), - She sang the "Song of the Flirt!" - - _Punch_, September 18, 1880. - - * * * * * - - -THE JANITOR'S SONG. - - With features sallow and grim, - With visage sadly forlorn, - The Janitor sat in the Janitor's room, - Weary, and sleepy, and worn. - 'Tis a fact, fact, fact! - He sat with a visage long; - And still as he sat, with a voice half cracked, - He sang this Janitor's song: - - "Sweep, sweep, sweep, - In dirt, in smoke, and in dust, - And sweep, sweep, sweep, - Till I throw down my broom in disgust. - Stairs, and chapel, and halls, - Halls, and chapel, and stairs-- - Till my drowsy head on my shoulder falls, - And sleep brings release from my cares." - - "From the very first crack of the gong, - From the earliest gleam of daylight, - Day after day and all day long, - Far into the weary night, - It's sweep, sweep, sweep, - Till my broom doth a pillow seem; - Till over its handle I fall asleep, - And sweep away in my dream. - - "Oh! students of high degree, - (I scorn to address a low fellow), - "Oh! seniors most reverend, potent, and grave, - (In the words of the great Othello), - My story's a sad one indeed, - Notwithstanding your laughter and sport; - My life is naught but a broken reed, - And my broom is my only support." - - With features sallow and grim, - With visage sadly forlorn, - The Janitor sat in the Janitor's room, - Weary, and sleepy, and worn. - It's a fact, fact, fact, - He sat with a visage forlorn, - And still as he sat with a voice half cracked, - He sang the Janitor's song. - - _Carmina Collegensia._ - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE SHIRK. - - With a countenance weary and worn, - With eyelids all heavy and red, - An Undergrad sat, in his nightgown torn, - Reading his Paley in bed. - Read, read, read, - Till his voice is quite feeble and low, - He can read no more, so in accents poor, - He sang of the dire Littlego. - - Read, read, read, - While the Rooks are cawing around; - And read, read, read, - Till of Cabs I hear the sound. - If only last time I had passed, - And had left all this Littlego work, - I'd become a Jew or a "pious Hindoo," - Or perhaps a barbarous Turk. - - Read, read, read, - It's nothing but read all day; - Read, read, read, - Till I read myself away, - Paley and Euclid so hard, - Mathematics with Latin and Greek, - I only wish I had read them before, - For the Exam begins in a week. - - O, men, who Examiners are, - Recollect when the period arrives - 'Tis not only the _papers_ you're setting this time, - But a _limit_ to Undergrad's lives. - Read, read, read, - By days, by month, by year, - Reading forsooth so uncommonly hard, - That you feel excessively queer. - - But why do I sing of them? - Their hearts are like pieces of stone, - I believe I ought to shun the thought - Of Examiners when I'm alone. - It makes me almost mad - To think of that awful sight; - O, dear, that to some the papers are stiff, - While to others they're easy and light. - - Read, read, read, - My reading will never stop; - And what's its reward? a name in a list, - Where the bottom's as good as the top. - This tumbled bed, with its shaky legs, - Yon room in disorder so great, - All attired with cards, tobacco, and wine, - It shows that I kept it up late. - - Read, read, read, - How full my time has been. - My reading I bless (?) for I possess - No leisure to read _Light Green_. - Hard Latin and odious Greek, - Hard Greek and odious Latin, - Their very dread makes me think this bed - Is the worst I ever sat in. - - Read, read, read, - Till my brain becomes infirm; - Read, read, read, - In this and the Lenten Term. - And then the men who have passed, - As I see them in the street, - Will laugh at me, and twit, and jeer, - Whenever them I meet. - - O, but to get through now-- - A "Second" I would not mind, - With the "General" looming in front, - And the "Littlego" left behind. - Then to think of the feelings of those, - Who cannot these subjects acquire, - Is enough to give one the direst of woes - (Not to mention the wrath of your sire). - - O, but for one short look - At the Euclid or Paley paper, - For one short glance, I soon would dance, - And cut about and caper. - A little peeping would ease my heart, - But from those papers hated, - My eyes must keep, for every peep - Might make me rusticated. - - With a countenance weary and worn, - With his nose, alas! awfully red, - The Undergrad blew out his candle's flame, - And settled himself in his bed. - "Read, read, read," - In his troubled sleep he said. - Examiners think on his piteous face, - If he's plucked, you know 'tis your disgrace, - So in the "First" or "Second" place - The man who reads Paley in bed. - - P. M. W. - -_Light Green_, Cambridge (W. Metcalfe and Son), 1882. - - * * * * * - - -THE BROOD ON THE BEARD. - - With face like a maiden's bare, - With hair on his head strewn thin, - A youth ill at ease, in an easy chair, - Sat stroking his cheeks and chin. - Stroke, stroke, stroke, - Yet never a symptom appeared, - Indulging, yet nowise enjoying the joke, - In penning THIS Brood on the Beard. - - I wish, wish, wish, - Till wishing becomes a whirl, - Wish, wish, wish, - For the locks with a flowing curl. - Imperial, beard, moustache, - Moustache, imperial, beard, - I long for them each till the three become - Wove into a triad weird. - - Young men with beards full grown, - Young men with moustaches neat; - Say, is it not your lot to own, - The joys of life complete? - I shave, shave, shave, - My cheeks with lather besmeared, - Scraping the skin with razor keen, - To make it utter a beard. - - But why should I dream of beards, - For the pleasure of manhood pine; - Or think of the looks my soul so craves, - That never may be mine? - That never may be mine. - Tho' my heart with hope may pant, - And mourn that some with such are blest, - Whilst I of such am scant. - - I watch, watch, watch - My glass each morning and night; - Watch, watch, watch, - But no sprouting gladdens my sight. - That shaving glass, that razor keen, - That strop I so often whet; - Betray the desire that ne'er may tire - Of what I ne'er may get. - - I feel, feel, feel, - Each morning of each week-- - Feel, feel, feel, - My lips, my chin, my cheek. - Moustache, imperial, beard, - Imperial, beard, moustache, - Could I but see signs of the three, - I would give good sterling cash. - - I rub, rub, rub, - When the shades of night set in, - Rub, rub, rub, - Pomatum o'er cheeks and chin, - Whilst Tabby, with whiskers long, - Upon the hearthrug lies, - And seems to purr contentment for - What nature me denies. - - Oh! could I but only see - Just the faintest dawn of down, - Or FANCY that Nature would - In the end my wishes crown! - Or hope that even I - The hours at last will enjoy, - When maids no longer will deem me - An o'ergrown hobbledehoy. - - But I to have glossy hair, - On my lips a flowing curl, - A pair of whiskers to grace my cheeks, - A moustache to turn and twirl, - Is but a dream, a gloomy gleam; - A wish without a hope, - Where fancy free may gain for me - Nothing AT ALL but scope. - - With face like a maiden's bare, - With hair on his head strewn thin, - A youth ill at ease in an easy chair, - Sat stroking his cheeks and chin. - Stroke, stroke, stroke, - Till he glanced at THE HOUR, and there was seen - A word that brought the news that he sought-- - 'Twas the famed PILOSAGINE! - - _Old Advertisement._ - - * * * * * - - -"THE SONG OF THE DIRT." - -(_With Respectful Memories of Tom Hood._) - - With garments soddened and soiled, - With boot-tops covered in grime, - With trousers bespattered with foulest mud, - Picking one's way through the slime. - Slush--slush--slush! - And foul-smelling filth and dirt, - That clings like a kind of malodorous pitch-- - I sing the "Song of the Dirt." - - Dirt--dirt--dirt! - In the January night, - And dirt--dirt--dirt! - While the weather is muggy though bright. - Smell, and slime, and reek, - Reek, and slime and smell; - Till over the kerbstone I fall and slip, - And smother myself as well. - - O! but for one short hour! - A respite: 'twould be so sweet! - I'd bless the scavenger's shovel and broom, - If he'd clear the mud 'neath my feet. - For only one short hour, - To feel as I used to feel: - The pavement free from grease and slime - In my walk that's now an ordeal. - - _Funny Folks_, January, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE WAIL OF A PROOF-READER. - -_Made During a Fearful "Spell" of Weather by One of 'Em._ - - With fingers weary and worn, - And nose quite puffy and red, - A Proof-reader sat in his old linen coat, - With a snorting "cold in 'is ead." - With handkerchief in his left, - And pen in his dexter paw, - The miserable man first blew his nose, - Then thus let loose his jaw: - - Read, read, read, - With tears rolling down from my eyes, - Read, read, read, - Till I can't tell l's from i's. - Read, read, read, - In pain, confusion, and noise, - And bored by a voice of dolorous pitch - Belonging to "one of the boys." - - Read, read, read, - In the story next to the roof: - Read, read, read, - Till my soul is lost in the proof. - It's oh to be a Hottentot - In the burning sand, - Where never an author sent a lot - Of manuscript the "devil" could not, - Nor the "reader" understand! - - Read, read, read, - Till my weary spirits sink, - And mark, mark, mark, - While mind ebbs with the ink. - French, and Latin, and Greek! - Hebrew, Spanish, and Dutch! - Poring o'er all till my eyes grow weak, - And I seem to be, by Fancy's freak, - But a part of the pen I clutch. - - Oh, but to "DELE" work! - To "transpose" toil for rest! - To "make up" life's remaining years - On smiling Nature's breast! - A "space" of time to join the "chase," - Some "quoins" to see me through! - A good "fat take" of these I want, - But a few large "notes" MIGHT do. - - Oh, for a brief respite - From toilsome pen and proof! - An "out," while I might calmly seek - A "double" who would share my roof; - The "sort" that could "correct" my "forme," - And save me from life's many traps, - And round our "table" smiling "set" - Sweet "fat-faced" MINIONS in "SMALL CAPS!" - - L. F. THOMAS. - - _The British and Colonial Stationer_, May, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE BITTER CRY! - -"Few persons have any conception of these pestilential human rookeries -where tens of thousands are crowded together amidst horrors which call to -mind the middle passage of the slave ship."--[The Bitter Cry of Outcast -London.] - - Wearily wandering into the winding - Maze of the filthy and festering slums, - Borne on the blast of the hurricane blinding, - Suddenly into my spirit there comes - Bitterest cry of the careworn and dying, - Weeping and wailing of old and of young-- - Wailing of women aweary and sighing. - Heavenward? Hear the song that they sung: - - "Strive, strive, strive, - With the wolf at the door, in vain, - Tho' the struggle to keep alive - Is worse than a hell of pain. - - Gin, gin, gin, - Our cares we'll drown once more; - 'Tis but folly to shrink from the spirit of drink, - So, swig till our lives be o'er." - - Fiercer than fathomless cry of the weepers, - Wilder than wailing of women and men, - Echoing ever a voice, "O ye sleepers, - Where is the harpy who owneth each den? - Where are the vultures who prey on the living?" - Pitiless dealers of wrong at each breath, - Shedders of blood who each moment are giving - Children and women and strong men to Death: - - "Here, here, here," - Is the loud and bitter cry. - "Oh, heed our sob of fear, - And save us ere we die. - - "Rent, rent, rent, - Our cares we'll drown once more, - For there's nothing but gin when the bailiffs are in, - And the baby's dead on the floor." - - G. B. BURGIN. - -Ashley House, High Barnet, Herts, England. - - * * * * * - - -I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. - - I REMEMBER, I remember, - The house where I was born, - The little window where the sun - Came peeping in at morn; - He never came a wink too soon, - Nor brought too long a day, - But now, I often wish the night - Had borne my breath away! - - TOM HOOD. - - * * * * * - -NURSERY REMINISCENCES. - - I REMEMBER, I remember, - When I was a little Boy, - One fine morning in September, - Uncle brought me home a toy. - I remember how he patted - Both my cheeks with kindliest mood; - "Then," said he, "you little fat head, - There's a top because you're good." - - Grandmamma--a shrewd observer-- - I remember gazed upon - My new top, and said with fervour, - "Oh! how kind of Uncle John!" - While mamma, my form caressing,-- - In her eye the tear-drop stood, - Read me this fine moral lesson, - "See what comes of being good!" - - I remember, I remember, - On a wet and windy day. - One cold morning in December, - I stole out and went to play; - I remember Billy Hawkins - Came, and with his pewter squirt, - Squibb'd my pantaloons and stockings, - Till they were all over dirt! - - To my mother for protection - I ran quaking every limb. - She exclaim'd, with fond affection, - "Gracious goodness! look at _him!_" - Pa cried when he saw my garment-- - 'Twas a newly-purchased dress-- - "Oh! you nasty little _Warment_, - How came you in such a mess?" - - Then he caught me by the collar-- - Cruel only to be kind-- - And to my exceeding dolour, - Gave me several slaps behind. - Grandmamma, while yet I smarted, - As she saw my evil plight, - Said--'twas rather stony-hearted-- - "Little rascal! sarve him right!" - - I remember, I remember, - From that sad and solemn day, - Never more in dark December - Did I venture out to play. - And the moral which they taught, I - Well remember; thus they said-- - "Little boys, when they are naughty, - Must be whipped, and sent to bed!" - - _The Ingoldsby Legends._ - - * * * * * - -A correspondent, writing to _Notes and Queries_ as far back as June 10, -1871, mentions a parody, of which, unfortunately, only the two verses -following are given:-- - - "I remember, I remember, - The day that I was born, - When first I saw this breathing world, - All naked and forlorn. - They wrapped me in a linen cloth, - And then in one of frieze; - And tho' I could not speak just then, - Yet I contrived to sneeze. - - "I remember, I remember, - Old ladies came from far; - Some said I was like mother dear, - But others thought like _par;_ - Yet all agreed I had a head, - And most expressive eyes; - The latter were about as large - As plums in Christmas pies." - - UNEDA. - -Philadelphia. - - * * * * * - - -A REMINISCENCE. - - I remember, I remember, - The cell, which now I scorn. - The little window where no sun - Could cheer the dreary morn. - Policeman X. no wink too soon, - Brought in my musty fare, - And, growling as he went away, - Locked me in safely there! - - I remember, I remember, - We'd been out late at night. - Twain heroes who, o'er sundry cups, - Wound up by "getting tight;" - And then, although no blood was spilt, - That fiend in blue we met; - "Run in" upon my natal day-- - Oh, would I could forget. - - I remember, I remember, - No soda would he bring, - He said the air seem'd rather fresh - For night birds on the wing! - The _spirits_ needed _feathers_ then, - And rest my fevered brow; - He only said, "The place is cool," - And, "Mind! don't make a row!" - - _The Figaro_, March 7, 1874. - -Another parody of the same original appeared in _The Figaro_ for August -26, 1874. It was entitled, "I Remember, I Remember, a reminiscence of -Child-Hood and Thomas Hood," and consisted of four verses, but they are -not now of sufficient interest to be quoted. - - -I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. - - I remember, I remember, - When first I saw a rink, - How fine to be a skater, - I always used to think, - To roll about, both in and out, - Through all the livelong day, - But now I wish the rink and skates - Had been far, far away. - - I remember, I remember, - The skates that first I wore, - The joy I had in buying them, - That I shall have no more; - On being a great skater - My youthful heart was set-- - Now the rink has gone the way of rinks; - The skates I have them yet. - - I remember, I remember, - When first I had a fall, - How hard I found the asphalte, - How loudly I did bawl; - There was anguish in my bosom, - There was fever on my brow, - There were bruises on my body-- - I bear the traces now. - - I remember, I remember, - How oft from school I'd beg; - But my rinking days were over. - When at last I broke my leg. - It was a foolish fancy, - And now 'tis little joy, - To know I broke my fibula, - When I was a little boy. - -_Idyls of the Rink_ (Judd and Co., London, 1876). - - * * * * * - - -THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. - - One more Unfortunate, - Weary of breath, - Rashly importunate, - Gone to her death! - Take her up tenderly, - Lift her with care; - Fashion'd so slenderly, - Young and so fair! - Loop up her tresses, - Escaped from the comb, - Her fair auburn tresses; - Whilst wonderment guesses - Where was her home? - Alas! for the rarity - Of Christian charity - Under the sun! - Oh! it was pitiful! - Near a whole city full-- - Home she had none. - * * * * - TOM HOOD. - - * * * * * - - -ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE. - -"ATQUI SCIEBAT QUÆ SIBI BARBARUS TORTOR PARARET." - -I. - - One more unfortunate - Ploughed for degree, - By those importunate - Questioners three. - -II. - - Tell it him gingerly, - Break it with care, - Think you he'll angry be? - Or will he swear? - -III. - - Look at his college cap, - Bent with its broken flap, - Whilst his hand constantly - Clutches his gown, - And he walks vacantly - Back through the town. - -IV. - - Didn't he study? - Wasn't he cute? or - Had he a coach? and - Who was his tutor? - Or was he a queerer one - Still, and had ne'er a one, - And all this the fruit? Or - -V. - - Was his brain muddled, - Addled and puddled, - From over-working? - Or did he all the day - Racquets and cricket play, - Books and dons shirking? - -VI. - - His Greek was a mystery, - So was his history, - His throbbing brain whirled, - And through his shaggy hair, - Both his hands twirled. - -VII. - - He goes at it boldly, - No matter how coldly - Examiners scan - Him over the table, - And say, "If you're able, - Construe it, man; - Look at it, think of it, - Do what you can." - -VIII. - - Now they stare frigidly, - Calmly and rigidly, - Courteously, slily; - How well he knows them, - Who could suppose them - Witty and wily? - -IX. - - Helplessly staring, - He looks at it long, - Then with the daring - Last look of despairing, - Construes it wrong. - -X. - - Failing most signally, - Construing miserably; - Frequent false quantity, - But as they want it, he - Must do his best, - Until they tell him he - Need not decidedly - Construe the rest. - -XI. - - Full of urbanity - And inhumanity, - See what they've done; - Out of each couple, - They with tongues supple - Ploughed at least one. - -_Lays of Modern Oxford_, by Adon (Chapman and Hall, 1874). - - * * * * * - - -THE HAIR OF THE DEAD. - - Pile it up, - Pile it up, - Till it towers above; - Pile it up, - Pile it up, - 'Tis a labour of love: - Pin it so carefully, - Cannot be known - Of that temple of hair fully - Half's not your own. - That dark plaited mass, - So dear and so rare: - That highly-prized mass, - Is a dead woman's hair. - - Maybe she was poor, - With no money or purse; - Homeless and fasting, - A vagrant, or worse-- - A sport for the wind, - As it listlessly blew, - And who from her kind, - No sympathy knew. - Who knows how she died? - Perchance of her life, - O'er burdened with strife, - She grew weary and cried-- - "To death's awful mystery swift to be hurled - Anywhere, anywhere out of the world." - - Then when the dark waters - Had closed o'er her head, - And this type of Eve's daughters - Was told with the dead; - Then when her poor body - Was borne by the wave - To the shore; they allowed her - A wanderer's grave. - Nor perfect, indeed, - Could she enter it there; - In their terrible greed - They must clip off her hair; - In their venomous greed - They must steal off her hair. - - * * * * * - - What do we care - That this long flowing curl, - Such a charm to a girl, - Is a dead woman's hair? - Our changeable sex, - Do as fashion directs; - And so long as the hair - Is a grace to the head, - So long will we wear - The locks of the dead. - - _The Figaro_, May 5, 1875. - -(At that date ladies were wearing very large chignons). - - * * * * * - -On the occasion of an inebriated "swell" being expelled from the Prince of -Wales's Theatre, by P. C. 22 Z.:-- - - Take him up tendahly, - Lift him with caah; - Clothes are made slendahly - Now, and will taah! - - Punch not that nob of his, - Thus I imploah; - Pick up that bob of his, - Dropped on the floah! - - Pwaps he's a sister, - Pwaps he's a bwother, - Come to the play with him-- - Let 'em away with him-- - One or the other. - - Ram his hat lightly, - Yet firmly and tightly, - Ovah his head. - Turn his coat-collah back, - Get his half-dollah back. - - 22 Z. - - * * * * * - - -THE RINK OF SIGHS. - - One more unfortunate - Knocked out of breath-- - "Rashly importunate," - Jealousy saith. - - Lift her up tenderly-- - Mind her back hair; - Fashioned so slenderly-- - Fetch her a chair. - Burst are her garments, - Hanging in cerements, - While buttons constantly - Fall from her clothing. - Take her up instantly - Loving, not loathing; - Scornfully touch her not-- - Think of the bump she got, - All through those wheels of hers - Which she used killingly; - And those high heels of hers-- - Sat she unwillingly. - She in a mess is - All things betoken, - And spoilt her gay dress is, - While wonderment guesses: - "Are the bones broken?" - "Who is her milliner?" - "Has she a glover?-- - P'raps a two-shilliner;" - "Or has she a dearer one - Still?" P'raps a nearer one-- - Gifts from her lover! - - Alas, for the rarity - Of Christian charity, - There isn't one - Who's a bit pitiful, - While that sad, witty fool, - Woffles, makes fun. - She, as she shivers - And mournfully quivers, - Sits bolt upright. - From window to casement, - From roof unto basement - She stares with amazement, - Mournful of plight. - - Never this history - Tell--'tis a mystery. - How her wheels twirled. - Anywhere, anywhere, - Facing the world; - Whirled her skates boldly, - No matter how coldly - Regarded by man. - Oh, but the Rink of it-- - Picture it--think of it, - When it began; - Rave at it, wink at it, - Now if you can. - - Take her up tenderly-- - Mind her back hair; - Fashioned so slenderly-- - Fetch her a chair. - Can't she sit down on it? - Is she in pain? - True. She doth frown on it-- - "Shan't rink again!" - - _Funny Folks_, February 26, 1876. - - * * * * * - - -THE LAST APPEAL, 1878. - - One more importunate - Struggle for place! - One more unfortunate - Slap in the face! - - Dizzy's a devil--he, - What should I spare? - Trip him up cleverly, - Fair or unfair. - - Never mind arguments, - Tear up his Pargaments - (While the ink's scarcely dry, - Easy is blotting), - Honour and decency - Wholly forgotten. - - Talk of him scornfully, - Talk of him mournfully, - Treat him inhumanly. - Arguments failing. - Throw dirt, and try railing, - Spiteful and womanly. - - Make no deep scrutiny - Into past mutiny, - Rash and undutiful, - England's dishonour, - While I heap on her-- - Won't it be beautiful? - - Point out all slips of his, - Sneer at his family; - Closed are those lips of his, - He must bear silently. - Fear not excesses, - Only hit home. - The "Daily News" blesses, - While wonderment guesses - What next may come. - - Sneer at his father, - Jeer at his mother, - Is he a Christian? - Nay, I'll go further. - He's not an Englishman, - Only a Charlatan, - Worse than a murderer. - - Oh! for the rarity - Of Christian charity - Under the sun! - Oh! it was pitiful - To see a whole City full - Greet such an one. - - Countryfolk, citizens, - Foreigners, denizens, - Greetings combined! - Yet may such eminence, - Spite of such evidence, - By my malevolence, - Be undermined. - - When the lamps quiver - Over the river, - With many a light - From many a casement, - I'll seek his abasement; - And for his displacement, - I'll fight, yes, I'll fight. - - John Bull's cold glance - May make other men shiver, - But still I advance, - Implacable ever, - Mad from life's history. - This creature of mystery - Forth shall be hurled - Anywhere, anywhere, - Out of the world. - - In I plunged boldly, - No matter how coldly - Popular feeling ran, - Over the brink of it. - Picture it, think of it, - Dissolute man! - How can Heav'n wink at it? - It's more than I can. - - Dizzy's a devil--he, - Why should I spare? - Trip him up cleverly, - Fair or unfair. - Treats he me frigidly, - Formally, rigidly. - Decently kindly, - Can this compose me? - While his eyes pose me, - Staring so blindly! - - Dreadfully staring - Through that eye-glass of his, - Malice and daring - Point me--despairing-- - To Honour and Peace. - - Perish I gloomily - Spurned by contumely. - Soured humanity, - Yields to insanity. - As for the rest-- - When my name's perished, - Will his be cherished - By Englishmen blest? - - When History has measured - My evil behaviour, - His name shall be treasured - As his country's saviour! - -_They are Five_, by W. E. G. (David Bogue, London). - - * * * * * - - One more unfortunate - Author in debt, - Scorn'd and importunate, - Badger'd, beset. - - Lethe, I'd drink of it, - Die without fuss, - Picture it, think of it-- - Manager "Gus." - - HARRIETT JAY. - - _Old Drury Lane, Christmas Annual_, 1883. - - * * * * * - - -BOOTS OF SIZE. - - Take them up tenderly, - Lift them with care, - Fashioned so slenderly - "Twelves" never were. - - Touch them not scornfully, - Think of her mournfully - Who has to bear them. - Think of the pains of her-- - All that remains of her - Save what will wear them. - - How were her father's feet? - How were her mother's? - How were her sister's feet? - How were her brother's? - What had the maiden done - That she should merit it? - Was it a judgment? - Or did she inherit it? - - Alas for the rarity - Of Christian charity - Under the sun! - Oh, it is pitiful, - From a whole city full - Praise she has none. - - Sisterly, brotherly, - Fatherly, motherly - Feelings are changed; - Love goes with "pettitoes," - "Tootsie" and "pootsie" nose - Ever from feet like those - Turning estranged. - - Never the ballroom - (Save she had all room) - Could she be daring; - And if at croquet seen, - "Gracious! that huge _bottine_," - People would cry or mean, - Dreadfully staring! - - The bleak winds of March - Made her tremble and shiver; - Clothes raised in arch - Her huge "trotters" dis-_kiver_. - Oh, then, from scrutiny, - Comment or rootin' eye, - Swift to be hurl'd, - Anywhere, anywhere, - Out of the world. - Take them up tenderly, - Lift them with care, - Fashioned more slenderly - Buckets ne'er were. - - _Scraps_, 1884 - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE LINES. - - With Gradus dirty and worn, - With heavy and weary eyes, - A Freshman sat who had written an ode - For the last Vice-Chancellor's prize. - Wait, wait, wait, - 'Mid Grinders, Lectures, and fines, - And thus on a lyre of dolorous chord - He sang the Song of the Lines. - - Wait, wait, wait, - When the bell is ringing aloof, - And wait, wait, wait, - When we leave our Grinder's roof, - And it's oh to be a Jib - In the Godless College of Cork, - Where never Vice-Chancellor gives a prize, - If this be Christian's work. - - Oh, Fellows with pupils dear, - Oh, Fellows with nephews and sons, - It is not paper you're tearing up, - But Senior Freshman's Duns, - For the Duns are growing rude, - Because of the Bills I owe, - Madden and Roe, Kinsley and Jude, - Jude and Kinsley and Roe. - - Wait, wait, wait, - Till term after term fulfils, - And wait, wait, wait, - As minors wait for wills, - Week after week in vain - We've looked at the College gate, - For how many days? I would hardly fear - To speak of ninety-eight. - - With Gradus dirty and worn, - With heavy and weary eyes, - A Freshman sat who had written an ode - For the last Vice-Chancellor's prize. - Wait, wait, wait, - 'Mid Grinders, Lectures, and fines, - And thus on a lyre of dolorous chord, - (Would that its tones could reach the Board), - He sang the Song of the Lines. - - C. P. MULVANY. - -_Kottabos_, Dublin (William McGee), 1873. - - * * * * * - -The following imitation was written by Father McCarthy, and appeared in -_The Catholic Herald_ (Jersey), about forty years ago:-- - - -THE SONG OF THE DRUNKARD. - - With body shrivelled and worn, - With eyeballs bloodshot and red, - A man in plight forlorn, - Lay moaning sore in bed. - Drink, drink, drink, - In poverty, fever, and pain, - And still he sang of his favourite drink - 'Mid the whirlings of his brain. - - Drink, drink, drink, - Oh! there's nothing like drink for man, - Drink, drink, drink, - Till the head reel round again. - It's oh! to be a beast, - Without a soul to save, - With no fear to stay the drunken feast, - And no Hell beyond the grave. - - Brandy, and gin, and rum, - Rum, and brandy, and gin, - 'Till wild delirium come, - And we rave in the pit of sin. - Oh! men with children dear, - Oh! men with starving wives, - It is not gin you are drinking there, - But your wives and children's lives. - - Drink, drink, drink, - Let them all be ragged and bare, - Drink, drink, drink, - Is the drunkard's only care. - Drink, drink, drink, - Our guzzling never flags, - And our wages go, and our homes are woe, - And our children skulk in rags. - - Forced by day to starve or steal, - By night a floor their bed, - And all their life is a life of vice, - And where are they when dead? - Drink, drink, drink, - Let us fight and curse and swear, - Drink, drink, drink, - 'Till our breath pollute the air. - - Brandy, and gin, and rum, - Rum, and brandy, and gin, - 'Till wasted frame and fever come, - And the sorrows of Hell begin. - Drink, drink, drink, - 'Till staggering home we go, - Drink, drink, drink, - 'Till we blast that home with woe. - - Drink, curses, murder, and shame, - Make up the drunkard's life, - With the rags and vice of a starving child, - And the groans of a sickly wife. - With body shrivelled and worn, - With eyeballs glaring and red, - A savage man in plight forlorn, - Lay, raving loud on his bed. - - Drink, drink, drink, - In racking fever and pain, - And still he raved of his murderous drink, - 'Mid the frenzies of his brain. - - * * * * * - -A distinguished officer writes that the recent spell of warm weather -has reminded him of a parody he read in India twenty-five years ago. It -describes, in no exaggerated manner, a very disagreeable complaint to -which Anglo-Indians are liable in the hot season:-- - - -THE SONG OF "THE PRICKLY HEAT." - -I. - - With fingers never at rest, - With cuticle measly red, - A heat-oppress'd victim capered about, - Itching from ankles to head-- - Scratch, scratch, scratch-- - At a rate few North-Britons could beat, - And still with a voice of dolorous pitch - Thus sang he of "Prickly Heat." - -II. - - "Itch, itch, itch, - Till my brain begins to swim, - And scratch, scratch, scratch, - Till I bleed in every limb. - Thighs, and body, and arms, - Back, and body, and thighs, - Till weary with scratching I fall asleep, - And scratch with sleep-sealed eyes. - -III. - - "Oh! white men banished here! - Oh! men all greedy of wealth! - It is not money your sweating out, - But your precious, precious health! - Itch, itch, itch, - Through years of monotonous rack, - Sowing at once with a double seed, - Disease as well as a Lakh! - -IV. - - "They say it is not disease, - This villanous pimply glow, - If not disease's tangible shape, - 'Tis deuced like it though-- - 'Tis deuced like it though, - If healthy skins are pale. - Oh, God! that suns should be so strong - And flesh and blood so frail. - -V. - - "Scratch, scratch, scratch, - My labour never flags; - And what are its wages?--a carcass raw-- - Lint, plaisters, and swathing rags, - This tortured head, and this body flayed, - Dyspepsia and gloom alway, - And a brain so blank, each ninny I thank - Who drones me through the day. - -VI. - - "Itch, itch, itch, - When good dinners glad the sight, - And scratch, scratch, scratch, - When I'm longing to bite, bite, bite, - When under silver roofs - Rich viands my servants bring, - As if to show me their dainty shapes, - And twit me for lingering. - -VII. - - "Oh! but to breathe the breath - Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, - Where the sky above one's head - Is not of this melting heat; - For only one short hour - To feel as I used to feel - Before I knew Calcutta's suns - Flay men as men the eel. - -VIII. - - "Oh! but for one short hour - A respite just to snatch! - No blessed leisure for love or lark-- - But only time to scratch. - Though goulard water might ease my pain - The antidote I dread, - An idle day might affect my pay, - And physic claims a bed." - -IX. - - With fingers never at rest, - With cuticle measly red, - A heat-oppress'd victim capered about, - Itching from ankles to head. - Scratch, scratch, scratch, - At a rate few North-Britons could beat, - And still with a voice of dolorous pitch - (Would that its tone could _cure_ the itch!) - Thus sang he of "The Prickly Heat." - - _The Calcutta Englishman_, 1859. - - * * * * * - -There was another parody of Hood's _Song of the Shirt_, written by Mr. -Clement Scott, entitled _The Song of the Clerk_. The Editor of this -collection would be glad to know when, and in what work it appeared. - - * * * * * - - -ABOUT THE WEATHER. - -(_A Fragment_). - - I remember, I remember, - Ere my childhood flitted by, - It was cold then in December, - And was warmer in July. - In the winter there were freezings-- - In the summer there were thaws; - But the weather isn't now at all - Like what it used to was! - - _The Man in the Moon_, Vol. 5. - - * * * * * - - -THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM. - - 'Twas in the prime of summer time, - An evening calm and cool, - And four-and-twenty happy boys - Came bounding out of school: - There were some that ran and some that leapt, - Like troutlets in a pool. - - * * * * * - - That very night, while gentle sleep - The urchin eyelids kiss'd, - Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, - Through the cold and heavy mist; - And Eugene Aram walk'd between, - With gyves upon his wrist. - - THOMAS HOOD. - - * * * * * - - -THE FALL OF THE EMINENT I. - - 'Twas in the prime of autumn time, - An evening calm and cool, - And full two thousand cockneys went - To see him play the fool;-- - And the critics filled the stalls as thick - As the balls in a billiard pool. - - Away they sped when the play was done, - Scarce knowing what to say; - So they passed the butter boat around - In the simple, usual way. - Smoothly ran their glowing prose - In the daily press next day. - - The Eminent I. they raved about - Till their gush to columns ran; - Condoning a _fiasco_ great, - As friendly critics can; - And _he_ still strutted on the stage, - An over-rated man. - - He wore pink tights--his vest apart, - To clutch his manly chest; - And he went at the knees in his old, old way, - Whilst his brow he madly prest. - So he whisper'd and roared, and gasp'd and groan'd, - As with dyspepsia possest. - - Act after act he ranted through, - And he strode for many a mile, - Till some were fain to leave the house, - Too weary even to smile; - For acting the murderer's part so oft - Had somewhat marred his style. - - But he took six more hasty strides - Across the stage again-- - Six hasty strides, then doubled up, - As smit with searching pain; - As though to say, "See me create - The conscience-stricken Thane!" - - Then leaping on his feet upright, - Some moody turns took he - Now up the stage, now down the stage, - And now beside Miss B.; - And, looking off, he saw her ma, - As she read in the R. U. E. - - "Now, Mrs. B., what is't you read?" - Ask'd he, with top-lip curving. - "Queen Mary? A play by Mr. Wills, - Or something more deserving?" - Said Mrs. B., with an upturned glance, - "It is 'The Fall of Irving!'" - - "His fall!" gasped he, "in sooth you jest! - O, prithee say what mean ye? - Know ye not, they call him Kemble-ish, - And speak of his style as Kean-y? - On the modern stage he stands alone." - She murmur'd one word--"Salvini!" - - "Avaunt!" he cried; "that name again! - Its mention ne'er will cease; - Does he still dare my throne to share, - And threaten my fame's short lease?" - But here the call-boy came to say, - That his absence stopped the piece. - - * * * * * - - One night, months thence, whilst gentle sleep - Had still'd the City's heart, - Two bill-stickers set out with paste - And play-bills in a cart, - And the Eminent I. had his name on them, - In a melodramatic part. - - _The Figaro_, October 9, 1875. - -When Mr. Henry Irving produced _The Iron Chest_, at the Lyceum Theatre, -the Editor of _The World_ offered two prizes for the best two parodies on -the subject, the model chosen being Hood's _Dream of Eugene Aram_. The -successful parodies were printed in _The World_, October 22, 1879:-- - - -FIRST PRIZE. - - 'Twas in the Strand, a great demand - For seats was quite the rule; - The pit and gallery were crammed, - The stalls and boxes full. - One man remained who could not find - A solitary stool. - - From gods to stall, he paced them all, - Unable to find rest; - A burning thought was in his heart, - Beneath his spotless breast. - He'd eaten pork, and knew full well - Pork he could not digest. - - With hollow sound the curtain rose, - And then he found a place, - Where, cramped and crushed, he just could see - The great tragedian's face-- - He was so prest, for the _Iron Chest_ - He hadn't any space. - - He saw how Irving walked the stage - With ill-dissembled care, - To keep the limelight on his brows - And on his flowing hair, - While all the rest were in the dark-- - You only heard them there. - - His voice was hollow as the grave, - Or like an eagle's scream-- - Murderers, you know, talk always so-- - His eyes like theirs did gleam-- - He'd done this sort of thing before. - But then 'twas in a dream. - - He showed how murderers start and gasp - When conscience pricks them sore; - He dragged his shirt-front out by yards, - And strewed it on the floor; - He rolled his eyes, and clutched his breast-- - He'd done it all before. - - If anybody mentioned death - Or foul assassination, - He started up and groaned or shrieked - With obvious perturbation. - 'Twas very strange this sudden change - Provoked no observation. - - And when at last four acts were past - Of stares and glares and guggles, - And in the chest they found the knife - Which he so neatly smuggles-- - 'Twas ecstacy to see him die - Of aggravated struggles. - - Q. - - -SECOND PRIZE. - - The sky was clear; no ripple marked - The course of silver Tyne; - And all was still, save for the bells - On the necks of the grazing kine. - On his fair demesne Sir Edward looked, - Last of an ancient line. - - His face was fair, but it did not wear - The sign of a soul at rest; - Anon a shudder shook his frame, - A sigh broke from his breast; - He seemed as seems a man by some - O'ermastering woe oppressed. - - "And yet among thy peers is known - Than thine no prouder name, - And wealth is thine and friendship's joy, - A scutcheon void of blame; - All this is thine, Sir Edward; why - Thus bow thy head in shame? - - "Men call thee good, they know thee kind-- - Yet more, if aught beside - There lacks thy happiness to crown, - Thou hast a peerless bride; - Why, then, Sir Edward, bow thy head?" - A mocking demon cried. - - "Hell-hound! and art thou here to taunt - My last--Yet 'tis thy meed: - 'Twas thou that in this fevered breast - Wrath and revenge didst feed, - Till--woe unutterable!--I - Wrought the accursèd deed. - - "'Twas at thy feet, a pupil apt, - I learnt this lying art;-- - O God, that I--that I could stoop - To play this loathly part! - O God, that with a face so calm - I cloak so black a heart! - - Yet the end is gained and the secret sure: - They shall lay the tortured clod - Of this vile clay in the open day - With honour beneath the sod." - That night 'twas known that a felon's soul - Had gone to meet its God. - - PORTIONISTA. - -The following was also published:-- - - 'Twas in the dim Lyceum pit - (And, O, that pit was hot) - That several hundred folks did sit, - And I amongst the lot; - And some drank ale and some drank stout, - From mug or pewter-pot. - - We watched the jovial robber-crew, - The merry poaching clan, - Chasing the sportive deer about - As only robbers can; - While the keeper kept himself at home, - A conscience-stricken man. - - His hair was long and his dress was dark, - And he strode with Irving's stride; - A crime unconfessed he hid in the chest - Kept ever by his side; - Much painting had made him very pale - And wan and hollow-eyed. - - And he saw his secretarial clerk, - One Wilford (Norman Forbes), - Go prying about in the ancient room - Hung round with family daubs; - And he "went" forthwith for that timid clerk, - Whose name was Norman Forbes. - - "By hell!" he shrieked, and held him fast; - "Untrusty youth, unstable--" - He raved in his face and clenched his fists, - And chased him round the table. - "Wouldst read the secret? wouldst hear thy doom?" - "I would, an I were able!" - - "If thou wert Abel, then I were Cain! - But, 'fore I tell thee, swear--" - And he swore and he swore and he swore again, - Till on end arose our hair; - And I couldn't help thinking what fines he'd have paid - If there'd been a magistrate there. - - And that very night, when a somnolent snooze - Was exciting the murderer's nose, - Poor Wilford rose up, and he hied him away - In a scanty assortment of clothes; - And the baronet rummaged and routed his trunk, - As we do when our "general" goes. - - And there he hid a fork and spoon - In a most ingenious way, - And a ring or so and a deed or two, - And Wilford was tried next day; - But the KNIFE had slipped in, and--ha, ha!--'twas found! - - * * * * * - - And that's the plot of the play! - - C. S. - - * * * * * - -The peculiar rhythm, and quaint conceits of fancy, in Hood's _Miss -Kilmansegg and her Precious Leg_ have been admirably imitated by Mr. H. -Cholmondeley Pennell in _The Thread of Life_. This poem (the last in _Puck -on Pegasus_) resembles its original also in the exquisite blending of the -pathetic and the humorous, of which, unfortunately, disjointed extracts -can give but a faint idea:-- - - LIFE! What depths of mystery wide - In the oceans of Hate and the rivers of Pride, - That mingle in Tribulations tide, - To quench the spark--VITALITY! - What chords of Love and "bands" of Hope - Were "made strong" (without the use of rope) - In the thread--INDIVIDUALITY. - - LIFE! What marvellous throbs and throes - The Alchemy of EXISTENCE knows; - What "weals within wheels" (and woes without woahs!) - Give sophistry a handle; - Though Hare himself could be dipped in the well - Where Truth's proverbial waters dwell, - It would throw no more light on the vital spell - Than a dip in the Polytechnic bell, - Or the dip--a ha'penny candle. - - * * * * * - - Into being we come, in ones and twos, - To be kissed, to be cuff'd, to obey, to abuse, - Each destined to stand in another's shoes - To whose heels we may come the nighest; - This turns at once into Luxury's bed, - Whilst that in a gutter lays his head, - And this--in a house with a wooden lid - And a roof that's none of the highest. - - We fall like the drops of April show'rs, - Cradled in mud, or cradled in flow'rs, - Now idly to wile the rosy hours, - And now for bread to importune; - Petted, and fêted, and fed upon pap, - One prattler comes in for a fortune, slap-- - And one, a "more kicks than ha'pence" chap, - For a slap--without the fortune! - - * * * * * - - Yet, laugh if we will at those baby days, - There was more of bliss in its careless plays, - Than in after time from the careful ways - Or the hollow world, with its empty praise, - Its honeyed speeches, and hackney phrase, - And its pleasures, for ever fleeting. - - _Puck on Pegasus_ (Chatto and Windus), London. - - * * * * * - - -A NICE YOUNG MAN FOR A SMALL PARTY. - - Young Ben he was a nice young man, - An author by his trade; - He fell in love with Polly-Tics, - And was an M. P. made. - - He was a Radical one day, - But met a Tory crew; - His Polly-Tics he cast away, - And then turned Tory too. - - Now Ben had tried for many a place - When Tories e'en were out; - But in two years the turning Whigs - Were turn'd to the right-about. - - But when he called on ROBERT PEEL, - His talents to employ, - His answer was, "Young Englander, - For me you're not the boy." - - Oh, ROBERT PEEL! Oh, ROBERT PEEL! - How could you serve me so? - I've met with Whig rebuffs before, - But not a Tory blow. - - Then rising up in Parliament, - He made a fierce to do - With PEEL, who merely winked his eye; - BEN wink'd like winking too. - - And then he tried the game again, - But couldn't, though he tried; - His party turn'd away from him, - Nor with him would divide. - - Young England died when in its birth: - In forty-five it fell; - The papers told the public, but - None for it toll'd the bell. - -_Punch_, June 1845. (This parody was accompanied by a portrait of Mr. -Benjamin Disraeli). - - * * * * * - - -A FEW WORDS ON POETS IN GENERAL, AND ONE IN PARTICULAR. - -BY THE GHOST OF T-- H--D. - -"What's in a name?"--_Shakespeare._ - -I. - - By different names were Poets call'd - In different climes and times; - The Welsh and Irish call'd him _Bard_, - Who was confined to rhymes. - -II - - In France they called them _Troubadours_, - Or _Menestrels_, by turns; - The Scandinavians called them _Scalds_, - The Scotchmen call theirs _Burns_. - -III. - - A strange coincidence is this, - Both names implying heat; - But had the Scotchmen call'd theirs _Scald_. - 'Twere title more complete. - -IV. - - For why call'd BURNS 'tis hard to say - (Except all sense to slaughter); - _Scald_ was the name he should have had, - Being always in _hot water_. - -V. - - For he was poor,--his natal hut - Was built of _mud_, they say; - But though the hut was built of mud, - _He_ was no _common clay_. - -VI. - - But though of clay he was (a fate - Each child of earth must share), - As well as being a child of earth, - He was a child of _Ayr_. - -VII. - - And though he could not vaunt his _house_, - Nor boast his birth's gentility, - Nature upon the boy bestow'd - Her patent of nobility. - -VIII. - - It needed not for him his race - In heralds' books should shine; - What pride of ancestry compares - With his illustrious _line_. - -IX. - - So he, with heaven-ennobled soul, - All heralds held in scorn, - Save one, the oldest of them all,-- - "The herald of the morn." - -X. - - Call'd by _his_ clarion, up rose he, - True liege of Nature's throne, - _Fields_ to invest, and mountain _crest_ - With _blazon_ of his own. - -XI. - - His _Vert_, the morning's dewy green, - His _Purpure_, evening's close, - His _Azure_, the unclouded sky, - His _Gules_, "the red, red rose." - -XII. - - His _Argent_ sparkled in the streams - That flash'd through birken bowers; - His _Or_ was in the autumn leaves - That fell in golden showers. - -XIII. - - Silver and gold of other sort - The poet had but little; - But he had more of rarer store,-- - His heart's undaunted mettle. - -XIV. - - And yet his heart was gentle, too,-- - Sweet woman could enslave him; - And from the shafts of Cupid's bow - Even Armour[6] could not save him. - -XV. - - And if that Armour could not save - From shafts that chance might wield, - What wonder that the poet wise - Cared little for a _shield_. - -XVI. - - And _Sable_, too, and _Argent_ (which - For colours heralds write) - In BURNS' uncompromising hands - Were honest _black and white_. - -XVII. - - And in that honest black and white - He wrote his verses bold; - And though he sent them far _abroad_, - Home truths they always told. - -XVIII. - - And so for "honest poverty" - He sent a brilliant page down; - And, to do battle for the poor, - The gauger threw his _gauge_ down. - -XIX. - - For him the garb of "hodden gray" - Than tabards had more charms; - He took the part of _sleeveless coats_ - Against the _Coats of Arms_. - -XX. - - And although they of Oxford may - Sneer at his want of knowledge, - He had enough of wit at least, - To beat the Heralds' College. - -XXI. - - The growing brotherhood of his kind - He clearly, proudly saw that, - When launching from his lustrous mind, - "A man's a man for a' that!" - -_Rival Rhymes, in honour of Burns;_ by Ben Trovato (Routledge), London, -1859. - - * * * * * - - -THE HAUNTED LIMBO. - -_A May-Night Vision, after a Visit to the Grosvenor Gallery._ (_With -acknowledgment of a hint from_ HOOD.) - -I. - - A world of whim I wandered in of late, - A limbo all unknown to common mortals; - But in the drear night-watches 'twas my fate - To pass within its portals. - - Dusk warders, dim and drowsy, drew aside - What seemed a shadowy unsubstantial curtain, - And pointed onwards as with pain or pride, - But _which_ appeared uncertain. - - I entered, and an opiate influence stole, - Like semi-palsy, over thought and feeling, - And with inebriate haziness my soul - Seemed rapt almost to reeling. - - For over all there hung a glamour queer, - A sense of something odd the spirit daunted, - And said, like a witch-whisper in the ear, - "The place is haunted!" - -II. - - Those women, ah, those women! They were white, - Blue, green, and grey,--all hues, save those of nature, - Bony of frame, and dim and dull of sight, - And parlous tall of stature. - - _Ars longa est_,--aye, very long indeed, - And long as Art were all these High-Art ladies, - And wan, and weird; one might suppose the breed - A cross 'twixt earth and Hades. - - If poor Persephone to the Dark King - Had children borne, after that rape from Enna, - Much so might they have looked, when suffering - From too much salts and senna. - - Many their guises, but no various grace - Or changeful charm relieved their sombre sameness; - Of form contorted, and cadaverous face, - And limp lopsided lameness. - - Venus was there; at least, they called her so: - A pallid person with a jaw protrusive, - Who palpably had found all passion slow, - And all delight delusive. - - No marvel she looked _passé_, peevish, pale, - Unlovely, languid, and with doldrums laden. - To cheer her praise of knights might not avail, - Nor chaunt of moon-eyed maiden. - - _Laus Veneris!_ they sang; the music rose - More like a requiem than a gladsome pæan. - With sullen lip and earth-averted nose - Listened the Cytherean. - - _This_ Aphrodite? Then methought I heard - Loud laughter of the Queen of Love, full scornful - Of this dull simulacrum, strained, absurd, - Green-sick, and mutely mournful. - - A solid Psyche and a Podgy Pan, - A pulpy Cupid crying on a column, - A skew-limbed Luna, a Peona wan, - A Man and Mischief solemn; - - A moonlight-coloured maiden--she was hight - _Ophelia_, but poor _Hamlet_ would have frightened-- - A wondrous creature called the Shulamite, - With vesture quaintly tightened; - - These and such other phantasms seemed to fill - Those silk-hung vistas, which, though fair and roomy, - Nathless seemed straitened, close, oppressive, still, - And gogglesome and gloomy. - - For over all there hung a glamour queer, - A sense of something odd the spirit daunted; - And said, like a witch-whisper in the ear. - "The place is haunted!" - -III. - - I could no more; I veiled my wearied eyes. - I said, "Is this indeed the High Ideal? - If so, give me plain faces, common skies, - The homely and the real." - - But no, this limbo is _not_ that fair land, - Beloved of soaring fancies, hearts ecstatic; - 'Tis the Fools' Paradise of a small band, - Queer, crude, absurd, erratic. - - I turned, and murmured, as I passed away, - "Such limbos of mimetic immaturity - Have no abiding hold e'en on to-day, - Of fame no calm security." - - For over all there hung a glamour queer, - A sense of something odd the spirit daunted, - And said, like a witch-whisper in the ear, - "This place is haunted!" - - _Punch_, May 18, 1878. - - * * * * * - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 6: "Bonnie Jean's" maiden name.] - - - - -Bret Harte. - - -The humorous writings of this author are as widely read, and as keenly -appreciated, in England as in the United States, and when the prose -portion of this collection is reached his _Sensation Novels Condensed_ -will be fully considered. In these he has admirably hit off the -peculiarities of style of such varied writers as Miss Braddon, Victor -Hugo, Charles Lever, Lord Lytton, Alexander Dumas, F. Cooper, Captain -Marryat, Charles Dickens, Charlotte Brontë, and Wilkie Collins; whilst -in _Lothaw_ he produced a clever little parody of Lord Beaconsfield's -_Lothair_. - -Bret Harte has ably described both the comic and the pathetic sides of the -wild life of the Californian miners, with which he is thoroughly familiar; -and his best known poems deal with phases of life in that part of the -world, where the Chinese element enters largely into the population. For -convenience of comparison, the original "Heathen Chinee" is given below, -followed by the parodies:-- - - -PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES. - -_Table Mountain_, 1870. - - Which I wish to remark-- - And my language is plain-- - That for ways that are dark, - And for tricks that are vain, - The heathen Chinee is peculiar, - Which the same I would rise to explain. - - Ah Sin was his name; - And I will not deny - In regard to the same - What that name might imply; - But his smile it was pensive and childlike, - As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye. - - It was August the third, - And quite soft was the skies; - Which it might be inferred - That Ah Sin was likewise; - Yet he played it that day upon William - And me in a way I despise. - - Which we had a small game - And Ah Sin took a hand. - It was Euchre. The same - He did not understand; - But he smiled as he sat by the table, - With a smile that was childlike and bland. - - Yet the cards they were stocked - In a way that I grieve, - And my feelings were shocked - At the state of Nye's sleeve: - Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, - And the same with intent to deceive. - - But the hands that were played - By that heathen Chinee, - And the points that he made, - Were quite frightful to see-- - Till at last he put down a right bower, - Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. - - Then I looked up at Nye, - And he gazed upon me; - And he rose with a sigh, - And said, "Can this be? - We are ruined by Chinese cheap labour"-- - And he went for that heathen Chinee. - - In the scene that ensued - I did not take a hand; - But the floor it was strewed - Like the leaves on the strand - With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding, - In the game "he did not understand." - - In his sleeves, which were long, - He had twenty-four packs-- - Which was coming it strong, - Yet I state but the facts; - And we found on his nails, which were taper, - What is frequent in tapers--that's wax. - - Which is why I remark, - And my language is plain, - That for ways that are dark, - And for tricks that are vain, - The heathen Chinee is peculiar-- - Which the same I am free to maintain. - - BRET HARTE. - - * * * * * - - -THE HEATHEN PASS-EE. - -_Being the Story of a Pass Examination._ - -BY BRED HARD. - - Which I wish to remark, - And my language is plain, - That for plots that are dark - And not always in vain, - The Heathen Pass-ee is peculiar, - And the same I would rise to explain. - - I would also premise - That the term of Pass-ee - Most fitly applies, - As you probably see, - To one whose vocation is passing - The "ordinary B.A. degree." - - Tom Crib was his name, - And I shall not deny - In regard to the same - What that name might imply, - But his face it was trustful and childlike, - And he had the most innocent eye. - - Upon April the First - The Little-Go fell, - And that was the worst - Of the gentleman's sell, - For he fooled the Examining Body - In a way I'm reluctant to tell. - - The candidates came - And Tom Crib soon appeared; - It was Euclid, the same - Was "the subject he feared;" - But he smiled as he sat by the table - With a smile that was wary and weird. - - Yet he did what he could, - And the papers he showed - Were remarkably good, - And his countenance glowed - With pride when I met him soon after - As he walked down the Trumpington Road. - - We did not find him out, - Which I bitterly grieve, - For I've not the least doubt - That he'd placed up his sleeve - Mr. Todhunter's excellent Euclid, - The same with intent to deceive. - - But I shall not forget - How the next day at two - A stiff Paper was set - By Examiner _U_-- - On Euripides' tragedy, Bacchæ, - A Subject Tom "partially knew." - - But the knowledge displayed - By that heathen Pass-ee, - And the answers he made - Were quite frightful to see, - For he rapidly floored the whole paper - By about twenty minutes to three. - - Then I looked up at U-- - And he gazed upon me, - I observed, "This won't do." - He replied, "Goodness me! - We are fooled by this artful young person." - And he sent for that heathen Pass-ee. - - The scene that ensued - Was disgraceful to view, - For the floor it was strewed - With a tolerable few - Of the "tips" that Tom Crib had been hiding - For the "subject he partially knew." - - On the cuff of his shirt - He had managed to get - What we hoped had been dirt, - But which proved, I regret, - To be notes on the rise of the Drama, - A question invariably set. - - In his various coats - We proceeded to seek, - Where we found sundry notes - And--with sorrow I speak-- - One of Bohn's publications, so useful - To the student of Latin or Greek. - - In the crown of his cap - Were the Furies and Fates, - And a delicate map - Of the Dorian States, - And we found in his palms, which were hollow, - What are frequent in palms--that is, dates; - - Which is why I remark, - And my language is plain, - That for plots that are dark - And not always in vain, - The Heathen Pass-ee is peculiar, - Which the same I am free to maintain. - - _Light Green_ (W. Metcalfe and Son) Cambridge. - - * * * * * - - -A KISS IN THE DARK. - - Which I wish to remark, - That a pleasure in vain - Is a kiss in the dark - When it leaveth a stain: - And a maid who strikes quickly her colours - When pressed, I shall never maintain. - - It was at a "surprise," - Where fair ladies are found - To kill time, while it flies, - With their beaux, who were bound - On having a social re-union, - At the cost of--well, more than a pound. - - Just here let me say - To the ladies below, - Who in polka display - Their fantastic light _tow_, - That their husbands, upstairs, also "poker" - Yes, ladies, you well may cry "Owe!" - - If the husbands but knew - How their wives flirt below, - They would sing to them--"Glou!" - For they'd stick to them so - That the popinjays all would look elsewhere, - Nor want for a trip of the toe. - - In the waltz I embraced - A fair maid with soft eyes; - O! the size of her waist - Made me waste many sighs: - And I likened her cheeks to red roses, - And whispered, "Sweet love never dyes." - - Then together we strayed - In the light of the moon, - Where I kissed that sweet maid; - She pretended to swoon, - But her faint was a feint, so I kissed her - Again, for I relished the boon, - - Back again on the floor, - With my sweetheart I danced, - While the people there wore - Merry smiles, as they glanced - At my partner, so stayed--in her manner, - And at me, so completely entranced. - - When my love turned around - I was shocked at the sight; - Where the roses were found, - One had met with a blight; - While a cheek was still blooming and rosy, - The other was fearfully white. - - From my good-looking lass, - Filled with fright, I straight flew - To a bad looking-glass, - Where I gazed: then I knew - That my nose, which was formerly turn-up, - Was radish--bright crimson in hue. - - Which is why I remark, - That a pleasure in vain - Is a kiss in the dark - When it leaveth a stain; - And a maiden who runs when you kiss her, - Is fast--which I'll ever maintain. - - _Merry Folks._ - - * * * * * - - -THAT GERMANY JEW - -London, 1874. - - Which I wish to remark-- - And my language is plain-- - That for ways that are dark, - And tricks far from vain, - The Germany Jew is peculiar, - Which the same I'm about to explain. - - Eim Gott was his name; - And I shall not deny - In regard to the same, - He was wonderful "fly," - But his watch-chain was vulgar and massive, - And his manner was dapper and spry. - - It's two years come the time, - Since the mine first came out; - Which in language sublime - It was puffed all about:-- - But if there's a mine called Miss Emma - I'm beginning to werry much doubt. - - Which there was a small game - And Eim Gott had a hand - In promoting! The same - He did well understand; - But he sat at Miss Emma's board-table, - With a smile that was child-like and bland. - - Yet the shares they were "bulled," - In a way that I grieve, - And the public was fooled, - Which Eim Gott, I believe, - Sold 22,000 Miss Emmas, - And the same with intent to deceive. - - And the tricks that were played - By that Germany Jew, - And the pounds that he made - Are quite well known to you. - But the way that he flooded Miss Emma - Is a "watering" of shares that is new. - - Which it woke up MacD----, - And his words were but few, - For he said, "Can this be?" - And he whistled a "Whew!" - "We are ruined by German-Jew Swindlers!"-- - And he went for that Germany Jew. - - In the trial that ensued - I did not take a hand; - But the Court was quite filled - With the fi-nancing band, - And Eim Gott was "had" with hard labour, - For the games he did well understand. - - Which is why I remark-- - And my language is plain-- - That for ways that are dark, - And for tricks far from vain, - The Germany Jew was peculiar,-- - But he won't soon be at it again. - - _Jon Duan._ - - * * * * * - - -ST. DENYS OF FRANCE (A.D. 272). - -_N.B._--_The following lay was composed in humble imitation of the popular -bard of Transatlantica._ - - Which I mean to observe-- - And my statement is true-- - That for ways that unnerve, - And for deeds that out-do, - St. Denys of France was peculiar, - And the same I'll explain unto you. - - Dionysius his name, - And none will deny - hat Denys the same - Does mean and imply; - And he fell in the hands of the pagans, - Who doom'd him a martyr to die. - - 'Twas century third, - As the history states, - That Denys incurr'd - This saddest of fates; - With one Eleutherius, deacon, - And Rusticus, priest, for his mates. - - Yet the woes that were laid - On those Christians three, - And the pluck they display'd - Were quite frightful to see, - And at first you would scarcely believe it, - But the same is asserted by ME. - - 'Twas one of their foes' - Diabolical whims, - To the flames to expose - The martyr's bare limbs. - But Denys, for one, didn't mind it, - He lay and sang psalms--likewise hymns. - - And then he was placed - In a den of wild beasts - With a preference of taste - For martyrs and priests; - But Denys, by _crossing_, so tamed them, - They turned from such cannibal feasts. - - Next Denys was cast - In a furnace of fire; - All thinking at last - He'd have to expire; - But the flame sank so low in a minute, - No bellows could make it rise higher. - - And when he'd been hung - On the cross for a spell, - St. Denys was flung - With his friends in a cell, - As narrow and close as a coffin, - And dark as H E double L. - - Said the judge, stern and curt, - "Bring the captives to me." - When he found them unhurt - He cried, "Can this be? - We are ruin'd by Christian endeavor;" - And he meant to destroy the whole three. - - On the Saints, who had long - Withstood such attacks, - The foe came out strong - With their tortures and racks. - At last, by the Governor's order, - Their heads were cut off with an axe. - - "Do we sleep? do we dream?" - All the witnesses shout; - "Are men what they seem? - Or is witchcraft about?" - For quickly the corpse of St. Denys - Rose up, and began to walk out! - - He took up his head, - Tuck'd it under his arm, - And the same, it is said, - Caused surprise and alarm; - Each eye on the marvel was fasten'd - As if by some magical charm. - - Cut down to his neck, - Like a flower to its stalk, - The Saint met a check - When he first tried to walk: - But soon he felt stronger than Weston - Or Webb--by a very long chalk. - - And angels, we're told, - Led his footsteps along; - While heavenwards rolled - Their chorus of song; - They led him two leagues from the city, - To see that he didn't go wrong. - - I hope you'll believe - That this story is fact, - For I scorn to deceive, - And refuse to retract; - For truth I've a great reputation, - And wish to preserve it intact. - - Which is why I observe-- - And my statement is true-- - That for ways that unnerve, - And for deeds that out-do, - St. Denys of France was peculiar, - And the same I have proved unto you. - -_Lays of the Saintly_, by Walter Parke (Vizetelly and Co.) London, 1882. - - * * * * * - - -THAT INFIDEL EARL! - -(_Plain Language from Artless Ahmed, Istamboul._) - -AIR--"That Heathen Chinee." - - SULTAN _sings_-- - - I--aside--may remark,-- - And I mean to speak plain,-- - That for games that are dark, - Masked by manners urbane, - That Infidel Earl licks me hollow-- - And _I_ am no novice inane. - - DUFFER-IN is his name, - But I'm bound to deny, - In regard to the same, - What that name might imply. - Though his smile is so pleasant and placid, - A Sheitan there lurks in each eye. - - Istamboul was the spot - Where we played, and you'd guess - That the Giaour got it hot-- - Found himself in a mess. - Yet he played it on me, did that Giaour, - In a way that was loathsome--no less. - - We sat down to the game, - DUFFER-IN took a hand; - I felt sure that the same - _He_ could not understand; - But he smiled as he sat at the table - With the smile that was placid and bland. - - _My_ cards were well stocked,-- - As no doubt you'll believe,-- - And I felt--_don't_ be shocked!-- - I'd "a bit up my sleeve." - For when playing with sons of burnt fathers - Our _duty's_ to dupe and deceive. - - But the hands which were played - By that dog DUFFER-IN, - And the tricks that he made, - Were a shame, and a sin, - Till at last I was "bested" completely, - And the Giaour scored a palpable win. - - Then I felt that _my_ guile - Was but simple and slight, - And he rose, with a smile, - And he said, "_That's_ all right! - Think I'll take the next turn with dear TEWFIK!" - And he started for Cairo that night. - - In the little game there - I may not take a hand; - But, my TEWFIK, beware! - He is gentle and bland, - Yet he'll probably give you a hiding,-- - Few games that he'll _not_ understand. - - Be the game short or long, - He's ne'er flurried nor stuck. - His lead is _so_ strong, - He has Sheitan's own luck; - And you'll find in this goose--as I thought him-- - What occurs to geese--_sometimes_--that's "pluck." - - Which is why I remark, - Though I own it with pain, - That for games that are dark, - Masked by manners urbane, - That Infidel Earl licks me hollow, - And I don't want to play _him_ again! - - _Punch_, November 11, 1882. - - * * * * * - - -FURTHER LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES. - - Do I sleep? do I dream? - Do I wander and doubt? - Are things what they seem? - Or is visions about? - Is our civilisation a failure? - Or is the Caucasian played out? - - * * * * * - - BRET HARTE. - - * * * * * - - -REMARKS ABOUT OTHELLO. - - Do I sleep? Do I dream? - Do I wonder and doubt? - Are things what they seem, - Or is libels about? - Has the Eminent I. scored a failure? - Or is the tragedian played out? - - Which questions is strong; - Yet I would but imply - That to them I much long - To get a reply-- - Seeing things is kinder mixed up so, - Or, leastways, they seem so to I. - - How he got up his name - I needn't relate; - Though, regarding that same, - He owed Colonel Bate- - Man some thanks for the way that he publish'd - The fact that his genius was great. - - Then 'twas said with one breath - Perfection was he, - From the "Bells" to "Macbeth" - He was as good as could be-- - He came, and he play'd, and he conquer'd-- - Like a melodramatic J. C. - - And all London went wild - O'er this Eminent I., - Save a party that smiled, - And thought it good fun; - But as for the late William Shakespeare, - He never had had such a run. - - And the public fell down - As though in a trance; - And the West-End of town - Booked their stalls in advance; - Whilst the critics wrote furlongs of praises, - His triumph to further enhance. - - And the management, gaily, - Its hand on its heart, - Did advertise, daily, - Its love of high art; - Whilst FIGARO smiled somewhat drily, - And murmured, "O here's a droll start!" - - But at last came a night-- - 'Twas "Othello" you'll guess; - And thought I (well I might), - "Ah! another success!" - But the papers next morning--O pizen! - They upset this view, I confess. - - For I dare not repeat - The things that were said:-- - Of a mop-stem on feet-- - In one weekly I read-- - With its arms like a pair of pump-handles, - And the mop dipped in ink for the head. - - And another remarked - That his voice wasn't clear, - And the more the Moor barked, - The less he could hear; - Whilst a third liken'd him in the death scene, - To a curate whose dreams had been queer. - - Scarce a paper I scann'd - Had the old-fashioned praise; - But on every hand - I read with amaze, - That the Eminent I. got a "slating" - Not frequently giv'n in these days. - - And, thought I, this is odd! - To turn round in this way: - One day he's a god-- - Or, so they all say-- - And the next night they call him eccentric, - Which isn't to my mind, fair play. - - He ain't a-gone wrong - Like this in a day; - He's been wrong all along - In the same kind of way; - And the faults they have damned in "Othello" - They praised in--well, "Hamlet," I'll say. - - So that's why I remark, - And would wish to maintain, - That for hair long and dark, - And a voice that was pain- - Ful, the Eminent I. was peculiar-- - But I don't think he'll try it again. - - _The Figaro_, March 4, 1876. - - * * * * * - -GALAHAD. "A superficial imitation is easy enough, but I shall certainly -fail to reproduce his subtle wit and pathos." (_Reads._) - - -TRUTHFUL JAMES'S SONG OF THE SHIRT. - - Which his name it was Sam; - He had sluiced for a while - Up at Murderer's Dam, - Till he got a good pile, - And the heft of each dollar, - Two thousand or more, - He'd put in the Chollar, - For he seed it was ore - That runs thick up and down, without ceilin' or floor. - - And, says he, it's a game - That's got but one stake; - If I put up that same, - It'll bust me or make. - At fifty the foot - I've entered my pile, - And the whole derned cahoot - I'll let soak for a while, - And jest loaf around here,--say, Jim, will you smile? - - Tom Fakes was the chum, - Down in Frisco, of Sam; - And one mornin' there come - These here telegram: - "You can sell for five hundred, - Come down by the train!" - Sam By-Joed and By-Thundered,-- - 'Twas whistlin' quite plain, - And down to Dutch Flat rushed with might and with main. - - He had no time to sarch, - But he grabbed up a shirt - That showed bilin' and starch, - And a coat with less dirt. - He jumped on the step - As the train shoved away, - And likewise was swep', - All galliant and gay, - Round the edge of the mounting and down to'rds the Bay. - - Seven minutes, to pass - Through the hole by the Flat! - Says he, I'm an ass - If I can't shift in that! - But the train behind time, - Only _three_ was enough,-- - It came pat as a rhyme-- - He was stripped to the buff - When they jumped from the tunnel to daylight! 'Twas rough. - - What else? Here's to you! - Which he sold of his feet - At five hundred, 'tis true, - And the same I repeat: - But acquaintances, friends, - They likes to divert, - And the tale never ends - Of Sam and his shirt, - And to stop it from goin' he'd give all his dirt! - - _Diversions of the Echo Club._ - - * * * * * - -The following admirable parody of Bret Harte's pathetic poems on miner's -life in California was written by Mr. Charles H. Ross, the Editor of -_Judy_. It is a favourite recitation with Mr. Odell, the popular actor:-- - - -THE BLOOMIN' FLOWER OF RORTY GULCH. - - It war Bob war the Bloomin' Flower, - They know'd him on Poker Flat; - He'd gouged a few down Gilgal way, - But no one complained o' that. - He scored his stiffs[7] on the heft of his knife-- - Forty I've heern 'em say; - It might have been more--Bob kept his accounts - In a loosish sorter way. - - Bob warn't a angel ter look at, - And the Bible it warn't _his_ book; - He swore the most oaths that war swor'd in the camp, - Or blarmedly I am mistook; - But he warn't a outen-out bad 'un, - And he'd got a heart you could touch; - And he never draw'd iron[8] on boy or man - As didn't pervoke him much. - - And you can't say fair as drinking - War counted among his sins; - For at nary a sittin' would he put down - More nor fifteen whisky skins. - But one day we was drinkin' and jawin', - Round Haggarty's bar, and I fear - That Haggarty riled him, bein' so slow, - So he jist sliced off Haggarty's ear. - - Then Haggarty went for him savage, - Instead of a-holding his jor; - And Bob went for his 'leven-inch knife, - And scatter'd Hag's scraps on the floor. - One of Hag's friends then drew upon Bob, - And shot Joe Harris instead; - And I take it the bar floor got at last - 'Bout knee-deep in red. - - But when the fun was over in there, - Bob ran a-muck in the street; - And he speared and potted each derned cuss - As he chanced to meet. - And quiet folks shut up their doors-- - They thought it safer, you see-- - All but a man with his wife and child, - That was settin' down to tea. - - Into their parlour rushed Bloomin' Bob, - To that father and mother's surprise: - Jobb'd his bowie through one, and took - The tother between the eyes. - Then he clutched the innocent slumb'rin' babe, - Jist meanin' to knock out its brains; - But at that moment there reach'd his ear - Some long-forgotten strains. - - * * * * * - - Some soft and touching music this, - Music solemn and sweet, - Played by a common organ-man - Down at the end of the street. - And it went straight home to the digger's heart, - And he did not squelch the child, - But lay it down in its little cot, - And rocked the same--and smiled! - - Talk soft! They say the angels - That night smole down on Bob; - And a sorter radiant halo - Gleamed brightly round his nob. - I can't swear to all this for certain, - And it do seem a queerish start; - But I won't set by and hear none o' you say - Bob hadn't a tender heart! - - * * * * * - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 7: Corpses.] - -[Footnote 8: To shoot.] - - - - -C. Wolfe's Ode. - - -Since Part VII. appeared, containing the parodies on the above, a -correspondent has kindly sent the following, which recently appeared in a -Durham newspaper:-- - - -A MOONLIGHT FLIT. - - Scarce a sound was heard, not a word was spoke, - As a van down the back way they hurried; - For some tenants were bolting, not paying their rent, - And looking confoundedly flurried. - - They'd packed up in silence at dead of night, - And, having no thought of returning, - Had nailed up the shutters to keep in the light - Of the paraffin-lamp left a-burning. - - But just as they'd got the loading done, - And with the last chair were retiring, - They heard the butcher (that son of a gun) - At the door for his money inquiring. - - Sharp and short was the answer he got-- - They told him "It gave them much sorrow; - It wasn't convenient to settle just then, - But they'd certainly do so to-morrow." - - Slowly and sadly they hurried away - From that snug little house of one storey, - Chucked the key in the water-butt, out of harm's way, - And left it alone in its glory. - - Loudly they'll talk of the tenants now gone, - And the landlords will say they were rum 'uns; - But little they'll care if he lets them alone, - And don't find them out with a summons. - - ANONYMOUS. - - * * * * * - -Two old parodies of the same original, on theatrical matters, may also, -for the sake of completeness, be inserted here. They are both taken from -_The Man in the Moon_, which was a small comic magazine, edited by the -late Angus B. Reach, with many funny illustrations by Hine, Sala, and -other humorous artists. _The Man in the Moon_ was started in 1847, and -five volumes in all were issued; its contents are now, of course, somewhat -out of date, but there are some clever parodies which will be inserted in -this collection--many of these parodies were, no doubt, from the facile -pen of Albert Smith, who was one of the principal contributors to the -magazine. - - -THE BURIAL OF PANTOMIME. - -_Stanzas of_ 1846-7. - - Not a laugh was heard, not a topical joke, - As its corpse to oblivion we hurried, - Not a paper a word in its favour spoke - On the pantomime going to be buried. - - We buried it after the Boxing night, - The folks from our galleries turning, - For we knew that it scarcely would pay for the light - Of the star in the last act burning. - - No useless play-bill put forth a puff, - How splendid the public had found it. - But it lay like a piece that had been call'd "Stuff," - With a very wet blanket round it. - - Stoutly and long all the audience hiss'd, - When they found neither sense nor reason; - But we steadfastly dwelt on the points we had miss'd - And we bitterly thought of next season. - - We thought, when we felt it was really dead, - As we pass'd old Covent Garden, - That Opera and Ballet would take up its place, - And we not be worth half a farden. - - Loudly old gentlemen still will prate, - As they always do, of past actors; - But we know that poor Mathews' and Howell's fate - Was as bad as a malefactors. - - Slowly and sadly we laid it down, - For we knew that we couldn't make bad well, - And we felt that the _prestige_ was vanish'd at last, - But we drank to the health of poor Bradwell. - - _The Man in the Moon_, Volume 1. - - * * * * * - - -THE BURIAL OF PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE. - -(_Princess's Theatre_). - - Not a house was drawn--not a five-pound-note-- - So his run to its closing we hurried; - Not a listener could follow his hazy plot, - So the dreary abortion we buried. - - We buried him, sadly, one Friday night, - For our hopes were gone past returning; - And the manager's pangs were a moving sight, - By the foot-lights dimly burning. - - All bare and exposed to the critics lash, - On that luckless stage we found him-- - On that stage where he deemed he should cut such a dash, - With armour and mobs around him. - - Few were the words which the manager said, - To soothe the tragedian's sorrow; - But they glared at each other with looks which made - Us hope they would fight on the morrow. - - They doubtless thought, though their tongues they held, - That of all the dreadful messes, - A sadder than Philip Van Artevelde, - Had never disgraced the Princess's. - - Loudly the manager told what he spent-- - And he said that Macready had made him-- - Ah! little attention the "Eminent" paid, - But coolly let Maddox upbraid him. - - But now was our dreary duty done-- - Our sleep-moving drama retiring, - From the distant jeer and the cutting pun, - Which the foe were constantly firing. - - Slowly and sadly we laid it down - That a poem, which is famed in story, - Be it writ in a book, be it carved on a stone, - Should be left there alone in its glory. - - _The Man in the Moon_, Volume 3. - - * * * * * - - -THE BURIAL OF THE BILLS. - -(_A Parody apropos to present circumstances, August_, 1884.) - - Not a joke was heard, not a troublesome vote, - As the bills into limbo they hurried; - Not e'en INGLIS discharged a farewell shot, - O'er the grave where the Jew-Bill was buried. - - They buried them darkly at dead of night, - For bed all the members yearning; - With the aid of the Speaker to keep them right, - And GREEN'S parliamentary learning. - - No vain discussion their life supprest, - Nor did truth nor talk confound them; - They passed a few, and as for the rest, - They burked them just as they found them. - - For most of the Session's task was done, - The supplies marked the hour for retiring; - And as August drew near, each son of a gun, - At the grouse, in his dreams, was a-firing. - - * * * * * - - So they settled the Bills--other folks' and their own-- - Never destined to figure in story; - They shed not a tear, and they heaved not a groan, - But they burked them alike, Whig and Tory! - - _Punch_, 1850. - - * * * * * - - -A TALE OF A TUB. - - Not a cackle was heard, or matitudinal crow, - As the cask to the orchard they barrowed; - And gently and tenderly laid him below, - Where some ground had been recently harrowed. - - The tears trickled slowly down Emma's fair check, - While Ned sobbed aloud in his fustian, - And Marian's feelings forbade her to speak - For fear of spontaneous combustion. - - They gazed on his coat of cerulean blue, - Ana silently gauged his dimensions, - Then covered him up with a hurdle or two - To balk the sly foxes' intentions. - - Then slowly and sadly they turned them away, - With their hearts overladen with sorrow: - Said Emma, "Bedad! he is safe for to-day." - Said Ned, "We must tap him to-morrow." - - Alas! Ere the dawn of another to-day, - There only was weeping and wailing; - That beautiful tub had been carried away, - Or had leaked through a gap in the pailing. - - And the Beaks, when applied to, just wagged their old heads, - And said, "Since for advice you must ask us," - Don't bury your casks in your strawberry beds, - Lest men take them by _Habeas Caskus!_" - - JOHN E. ALLEN. - -(The touching incident described in these affecting lines occurred to some -friends who, for fear of an explosion, buried a cask of paraffine oil in -their garden; a midnight robber despoiled them of their spirit, and they -could not make light of it.) - - * * * * * - - - - -Alfred, Lord Tennyson. - -POET LAUREATE. - - -THE first four parts of this collection were devoted to parodies of the -works of the Poet Laureate, a few examples being given of the imitations -of each of his more important poems. Numerous subscribers have requested -that the collection should be continued, so that the first volume might -contain as nearly a complete set of parodies on Tennyson's works as it -is possible to form. With this view many additional contributions have -been sent in; whilst some that have quite recently appeared, and a few -that were previously omitted as being too lengthy, will now be included. -Independently of the amusing nature of many of the parodies still to be -given, collectors of _Tennysoniana_ will appreciate the completeness thus -to be obtained, and it will be seen that very few of Tennyson's poems have -escaped parody. - -Although it may appear that the imitations now to be given will come -somewhat out of order, no inconvenience will eventually result, as the -index will show, in a tabulated form, under the head of each _original_ -poem every parody of it. The order adopted in the recent editions of -the Laureate's poems will be followed in this further collection, and -the parodies will illustrate Mariana; Circumstance; The Palace of Art; -Riflemen Form; Lady Clara Vere de Vere; The May Queen; The Dream of Fair -Women; "You Ask Me Why;" "Of Old Sat Freedom;" Tithonus; Locksley Hall; -Lady Godiva; The Lord of Burleigh; The Voyage; Enoch Arden; The Brook; The -Princess; Alexandra; In Memoriam; Maud; Hands All Round; and the Idyls of -the King. - - -THE HAYMARKET THEATRE ON THE OCCASION OF THE REVIVAL OF A DULL OLD -FIVE-ACT PLAY. - - With kindest friends, each private box - Was thickly peopled one and all; - The busy tongues fell at the knocks - The prompter gave against the wall. - The grand tiers' heads look'd old and strange, - Unresting was box-keeper's key, - For those who something came to see, - Within the dismal five-acts' range. - She only said, "It readeth dreary; - No pathos and no fun." - She said, "I am aweary, aweary, - Before it hath begun." - - Her yawns came with the first act even; - Her yawns came ere the third was tried. - She had been listening from seven, - With nought to praise, nor to deride. - After the friends forgot to clap, - Which very soon they ceased to do, - She drew the box's curtains too, - And thought, "I'll take a little nap." - She only said, "The play is dreary; - No pathos, and no fun," - She only said, "I am aweary, aweary, - I would that it were done." - - * * * * * - - The hazy nature of the plot; - The box locks clicking; and the sound - Which to the actors on the stage - The prompter made, did all confound - Her sense; but most she loathed the power - Which could get acted such a play, - When they would nothing have to say - To pieces of the present hour. - Then said she, "This is very dreary! - This must not be," she said; - "Sooner than feel again so weary, - I'd go right home to bed." - - _The Man in the Moon_, Volume 2, 1848. - - * * * * * - - -THE EXILED LONDONER. - -"Since I have been at this place I have lost as many as three copies of -_The Times_ in a week, while _Punch_ was as regularly stolen as it was -posted."--_Times_, January 10. - - With black _ennui_ the Exile sits, - Watching the rain-drops as they fall; - The bluebottle about him flits, - That ate the peach on the garden wall. - No _Times_ nor _Punch_, 'tis very strange; - Unlifted is the iron latch; - Of papers he's without the batch - That gives his days their only change. - At first he only said, "Oh deary! - The post is late," he said; - "Of waiting I am rather weary, - I would my _Punch_ I'd read." - - About the middle of the day - The postman's form its shadow cast, - The door he sought with footsteps gay, - The _Times_ and _Punch_ are here at last. - Out with them; but 'tis very strange, - The envelope is open torn-- - 'Tis but the _Herald_ of the morn; - His paper they have dared to change. - He only said, "The _Herald_'s dreary, - Dreary, indeed," he said; - "It's very look has made me weary; - It never can be read." - - Upon some stones--a hillock small, - The Londoner in exile leapt, - And over objects large and small - A telescopic watch he kept; - He saw the postman walk away, - He gazed till it was nearly dark, - Then only made this sad remark, - "Nor _Times_ nor _Punch_ will come to-day." - He only said, "'Tis very dreary - They do not come," he said; - "While I for want of them am weary, - They're elsewhere being read." - - And even when the moon was low, - And the shrill winds a game did play, - Blowing the sign-boards to and fro, - As if 'twould blow them right away; - He'd with the spider, as it climbs, - Hold converse--asking if 'twould tell - Whether the postman dared to sell - The weekly _Punch_ and daily _Times_. - He only said, "'Tis very dreary, - Dreary, indeed," he said; - "Of life I'm almost getting weary, - My _Times_ and _Punch_ unread." - - All day within the dreamy house - His shoes had in the passage creak'd; - The maid-of-all-work, like a mouse, - Out of her master's presence sneak'd, - Or from the kitchen peer'd about, - Or listen'd at the open doors, - To hear his footsteps tread the floors - With the short hurried pace of doubt. - She only said, "My master's weary, - And angry, too," she said; - She said, "Oh deary me! oh deary! - I wish he'd go to bed." - - The crickets chirrup on the hearth, - The slow clock ticking--and the sound - Of rain upon the gravel path - That hems the Exile's cottage round; - All these, but most of all the power - Of sleep after an anxious day, - Up-stairs had hurried him away. - He paced his chamber for an hour, - Then said he, "This, indeed, is dreary, - My _Times_, my _Punch_," he said, - "Without you I am always weary; - I'll tumble into bed." - - _Punch_, January 22, 1848. - - * * * * * - - -LORD TOMNODDY IN THE FINAL SCHOOLS. - - With blackest ink the books around - Were thickly blotted one and all; - The very nails looked half unsound - That held the pictures to the wall. - The dismal scene was wrapped in gloom, - Sported was the unsocial oak: - Seedy and torn and thick with smoke - The curtains hung athwart the room. - He only said, "The schools are dreary: - This Euclid racks my head. - Of Ethics I am very weary; - I shall be ploughed," he said. - - His sighs came with the lightening heaven, - And ever through the day he sighed. - He could not play in the Eleven, - Or coach the Eight at eventide. - After the shutting of the gates, - He drew his casement curtain by, - And watched along the gleaming High - The lovers strolling with their mates. - He only said, "The schools are dreary: - This Euclid racks my head. - Ethics are the reverse of cheery; - I shall be ploughed," he said. - - And half asleep he heard forlorn - The caterwauling on the roof; - The chapel bell rung out at morn - Came to him--but he held aloof. - In dreams he seemed to see the Halls, - And fatal precincts of the Schools: - To watch the crowd of ghastly fools, - Who tried in vain to pass their Smalls. - He only said, "The schools are dreary: - This Euclid racks my brain. - Of Ethics I am very weary; - I shall be ploughed again." - - He sat and darkened all the air, - With smoke up-wreathing from his weed: - All day, half-dreaming in his chair, - He sat and read--or seemed to read-- - Or from the window peered about. - His friends still hammered at his door; - He heard them on the upper floor; - Their voices called him from without. - He only said, "The schools are nearing; - I cannot come," said he. - "Although of Ethics I am wearying, - I shall be ploughed, you'll see." - - For hours he sat, without a pause, - And snored o'er Plato's sage debate - Of the Republic and the Laws: - Both these his brain did obfuscate - But most of all he loathed the power - Of _x_ + _y_, whose depths profound - Long-winded dons would oft expound, - And moralise on by the hour. - Then said he, "I am very weary, - This Euclid racks my brain. - Mansell and Mill are very dreary; - I shall be ploughed again!" - - H. C. I., QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD - -_College Rhymes_ (T. and G. Shrimpton), Oxford, 1868. - - * * * * * - - -A FRAGMENT. - - They lifted him with kindly care; - They took him by the heels and head; - Across the floor, and up the stair, - They bore him safely to his bed. - They wrapped the blankets warm and tight, - And round about his nose and chin - They drew the sheets, and tucked them in, - And whispered: "Poor old boy, good-night!" - He murmured, "Boys, oh, deary, deary, - That punch _was_ strong," he said; - He said: "I am aweary, weary-- - Thank heaven, I've got to bed! - - _Australian Paper._ - - * * * * * - - -AUGUST THE TWELFTH. - -OVER-NIGHT. - -I. - - You must wake, and call me early--call me early--Willie Weir, - To-morrow is the glorious Twelfth, that comes but once a year; - The cockneys and the keepers will all be out of doors, - And I'm to shoot over the moors, Willie--I'm to shoot over the moors. - -II. - - There's many a pack of pointers, but none that point likemine; - There's Paragon and Pincher--there's Kit and Keelavine, - And my little Dandie Dinmont, that stands firm as any house, - So I'm to bag all the grouse, Willie--I'm to bag all the grouse. - -III. - - I sleep so soundly all the night that I shall never wake, - Unless you call me loudly when the dawn begins to break, - For I've to put on my philabeg and sporran's foxy tail, - To _look_ like a genuine Gael, Willie, to _look_ like a genuine Gael. - -IV. - - As I came up the valley, whom think you I should see? - Ben Moses of the Minories, he has rented Bonachree! - He wished to rent _my_ moor, Willie, but boggled at the price, - So I went in by telegram, and nailed it in a trice. - -V. - - Shelty Pony shall go to-morrow, to carry two fowls at least, - For a cockney on the hillside is a _very_ ravenous beast; - And you shall bring the saddlebags to hold the birds I spot, - For I'll get my worth of the moors, Willie, at least in the powder - and shot. - -VI. - - So you must wake me early--call me early, Willie Weir, - To-morrow is the glorious Twelfth, that comes but once a year. - From Cheapside unto Chelsea, they're envying me at home, - For I'm to shoot over the moors, Willie, as far as I can roam. - - -ON THE TWELFTH. - -I. - - I bade you wake me early, with my shaving-jug and brogues, - But Scotch and English servants are all a pack of rogues. - It's the only Twelfth of August in the Highlands I shall see, - Yet you snored on your truckle-bed, Willie, and never thought of me. - -II. - - Last night I saw the sunset, he looked both wroth and red, - As if he knew when dawning came I'd still be lay-a-bed. - From crag and scaur and heather I hear the popping shot, - And not a single bird, Willie, has fallen to my lot. - -III. - - What say you? "'Tis a soft day, the roads are runnin' burns, - "The heather's a' wet blankets, ye might droon ye in the ferns; - Ye canna see a hand forenent, the mist's sae white and chill, - Ye'd sune be bogged amang the muirs, and lost upon the hill." - -IV. - - There's not a sportsman on the hills, the rain is on the pane, - I only wish to sleep until the sunshine comes again. - I wish the mist would lift, and the light break out once more, - I long to kill a grouse, Willie, ere the Twelfth of August's o'er. - -V. - - I have been stiff and lazy, but I'll up and dress me now, - You'll fetch my breakfast, Willie, and my plaid before I go. - Nay, nay, you must not brush so hard, my very teeth you jolt, - You should not rub me down, Willie, as if I were a colt. - -VI. - - I'll bring back dinner, if I can, in a brace of cock and hen, - But if you do not see me, you will know I've dined with Ben. - If I cannot speak a sober word when I come back from the toddy, - Just tuck me into bed, Willie, like a canny Hieland body. - -VII. - - Good-bye, you rascal, Willie; call me earlier in the morn, - Or I'll thrash you into next week, as sure as you were born; - For I must get my money back from grouse and hare and deer, - So wake, and call me early--call me early, Willie Weir. - - _Will-o'-the-Wisp_, August, 1869. - - * * * * * - - -MALA-FIDE TRAVELLERS. - -(_Unlicensed by the Laureate._) - - Late, late, past ten, so dark the night and chill. - Late, late, eleven, but we can enter still. - Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now! - - No thought had we the night was so far spent, - And, hearing this, the Bobby will relent. - Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now! - - No beer, though late, and dark, and chill the night. - O let us in, and we will not get tight! - Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now! - - A glass of gin to-night would be so sweet. - O let us in, that we may have it neat! - Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now! - - _Punch_, November 16, 1872. - -The following imitation of Tennyson is of interest as having appeared -forty years ago, when the poet was comparatively unknown:-- - - -A FRAGMENT--COMPOSED IN A DREAM. - -BY A. TENNYSON. - - In Hungerford, did some wise man - A stately bridge of wire decree, - Where Thames, the muddy river, ran, - Down to a muddier sea. - - Above the people rose its piers, - Their shadows on the waters fell; - Year after year, for many years, - All unapproachable! - - And filmy wires through æther spread, - From such proud piers' unfinished head, - Kept up a mild communication, - Worthy of their exalted station; - - And many gazers far below, - Wafted by the waveless tide, - Which 'neath those slender wires did flow, - Upturned their eyes, and sighed-- - - "If that _air_ bridge," they whispered low, - "Vos broad enough to let us pass, - Ve'd not av so much round to go, - As now ve av--alas!" - - * * * * * - - _Punch_, 1844. - - * * * * * - - -THE M.P. ON THE RAILWAY COMMITTEE. - -(_Dedicated to Alfred Tennyson_). - - With shareholders in anxious lots, - The rooms were crowded, one and all, - The Barristers stood round in knots,-- - And quite forsook Westminster Hall. - Sections and plans looked odd and strange; - And the M.P. at each new batch, - Weary and worn, looked at his watch, - In hopes the Counsel to derange. - He only said, "It's very dreary: - He'll never stop!" he said; - He said, "I'm a-weary--a-weary, - I would I were in bed!" - - The speech began before eleven, - And might go on till eventide; - He must be in the House at seven, - Upon a motion to divide. - The Barristers in white cravats - Unto each other gave the lie; - The M.P. sadly shut his eye - And thought of the Kilkenny cats. - He only said, "It's very dreary, - They'll never stop!" he said; - He said, "I'm a-weary--a-weary, - And must not go to bed." - - Until the middle of the night, - He'd heard the Irish Members crow; - The House broke up in broad daylight, - Heavily he to bed did go, - In hopes to sleep; but without change, - In dreams, he seemed to hear, forlorn, - The Barrister he'd heard that morn; - And saw, in slumber, sections strange. - He sighed, and said, "'Tis very dreary; - I cannot sleep!" he said; - He said, "I am a-weary--a-weary, - Both in and out of bed." - - * * * * * - - The hot sun beating on the roof, - The slow clock ticking, and the sound - Which in opposing lines' behoof - The counsel made,--did all confound - His sense: then longed he for the hour - When their report they came to lay - Before the Commons; and the day - On which he'd 'scape SIR ROBERT'S power, - Then said he, "This is far too dreary: - I will retire," he said; - He sighed, "I am so weary--a-weary, - I'll go to Jail instead." - - _Punch_, 1845. - - * * * * * - - -CIRCUMSTANCE. - - Two children in two neighbour villages, - Playing mad pranks along the healthy leas; - Two strangers meeting at a festival; - Two lovers whispering by an orchard wall; - Two lives bound fast in one with golden ease; - Two graves, grass green, beside a gray church-tower, - Wash'd with still rains and daisy-blossomed; - Two children in one hamlet born and bred; - So runs the round of life from hour to hour. - - A. TENNYSON. - - * * * * * - - -CIRCUMSTANCE. - -(_After Tennyson_). - - Two children on Twelfth Night, all mirth and laughter, - Obliged to take two powders the day after. - Two strangers meeting at a morning call. - Two lovers waltzing at a country ball. - Two mouths to feed upon an income small. - Two "lists to be retained" of various things - Wash'd out of town to save home's direst curse. - Two babies quite too much for one young nurse; - So flies the time of life on rapid wings. - - _The Man in the Moon_, Volume 4, 1848. - - * * * * * - - -THE PALACE OF ART. - -(_A Parody, which it is requested may not occur to anybody during the -Inauguration of the Exhibition_, 1862). - - I built my Cole a lordly pleasure house, - Wherein to walk like any Swell: - I said, "O Cole, make merry and carouse, - Dear Cole, for all is well." - -(_Here follows an exquisite description of the said pleasure-house, also -known as the International Exhibition. After four hundred and ninety-seven -verses comes the last_). - - But Cole, C.B., replied, "'Tis long, your story, - And here's a Rummy Start; - Dilke walks in glory with a Hand that's Gory, - While I am _not_ a Bart." - - SHIRLEY BROOKS. - -The following parody graphically describes that singular phase of -modern English art, known as the Æsthetic School, originated by the -Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood, namely, Dante G. Rossetti, Holman Hunt, J. E. -Millais, and Thomas Woolner. The works of the disciples of this school -have recently found a home in the Grosvenor Gallery, founded by Sir Coutts -Lindsay:-- - - -THE PALACE OF ART. - -(_New Version_). - -PART I. - - I built myself a lordly picture-place - Wherein to play a Leo's part. - I said, "Let others cricket, row, or race, - I will go in for Art!" - - Full of great rooms and small my Palace stood, - With porphyry columns faced, - Hung round with pictures such as I thought good, - Being a man of taste. - - The pictures--for the most part they were such - As more behold than buy-- - The quaint, the queer, the mystic over-much, - The dismal, and the dry. - - One seemed all black and grey--a tract of mud, - One gas-jet glimmering there alone; - Above, all fog; below, all inky flood; - For subject--it had none. - - One showed blue chaos flecked with falling gold. - Like Danaë's tower in dark; - A painter's splash-board might more meaning hold - Than this æsthetic lark. - - And one, a phantom form with limbs most lank, - Adumbrated in ink and soot; - The Genius of Smudge, with spectral shank - And unsubstantial boot. - - Nor these alone, but many a canvas bare, - Fit for each vacuous mood of mind, - The gray and gravelike, vague and void, were there - Most dismally designed. - - * * * * * - - Or two wan lovers in a curious fix, - Wreathed in one scarf by some queer charm, - Upon the margin of a caverned Styx - Stood shivering arm-in-arm. - - Or by a garden-prop, posed all askew - 'Neath apples bronze, with brazen hair, - A chalk-limb'd Eve and snake of porcelain blue - Exchanged a stony stare. - - * * * * * - - Nor these alone, but all such legends fair - As the vagarious Wagner mind - Would pick from Mythus' shadowy realm, were there, - With ample space assigned. - - To women weird and wondrous, long of jaw, - And lank of limb, and greenish as with mould, - And full-red lips and shocks of fulvous hair, - And raiments strange of fold. - - No raven so delighteth in its song, - Of sad and sullen monotone, - As I to watch those ladies lean and long, - And angular of bone. - - And to myself I said, "All these are mine. - Let the dull world take Nature's part, - 'Tis one to me; I hold no thing divine - Save this Brown-Jonesian Art, - - "Wherein no ROBINSON shall dare to plant - His Philistinish hoof, - Who feels no mystic mediæval want, - But paints in truth's behoof! - - "O Mediæval Mystery, be it mine - To clasp thee, faint and fain; - Sniffing serene at low souls that decline, - On sense and meanings plain." - - Then my eyes filled, my talk waxed large and dim - Of BOTTICELLI'S deathless fame: - "Quaint immaturity to reach with him," - I cried, "is Art's true aim. - - "To plunge, self-blinded, in the mystic past, - That makes the present small: - If eyes artistic be not backward cast, - Why have we eyes at all?" - - _Punch_, July 7, 1877. - - -PART II. - - YET oft the riddle of Art's real drift - Flashed through me as I sat and gazed. - But not the less some season I made shift - To keep my wits undazed. - - And so I mused and mooned; for three long weeks - I stood it: on the fourth I fell. - All trace of natural colour fled my cheeks, - And I felt--far from well. - - * * * * * - - Hollow-cheeked, hectic, rufus-headed dames, - With opiate eyes, and foreheads all - As wan as corpses', but with wings like flames, - Glared on me from each wall. - - Those fixed orbs haunted me; I grew to hate - Those square and skinny jaws, those high-cheek bones. - Nocturnes in soot and symphonies in slate - Moved me to sighs and groans. - - Queer convolutions of dim drapery - Inwrapt me like a Nessus-snare. - I seemed enmeshed in tangles hot and dry - Of copper-coloured hair. - - I loathed the pallid Venuses and Eves, - Nymph-nudity, and Sorceress and Thrall; - The Wings prismatic, the metallic Leaves-- - I loathed them one and all. - - I howled aloud, "I would no more behold - A witch, an angel, or a saint. - Aught mediæval-mystic, classic-cold, - Or _cinque-cento_ quaint. - - "It may be that my taste has come to grief, - But if the spectral, dismal, dry, - _Do_ constitute 'High Art,' 'tis my belief - High Art is all my eye." - - So when four weeks were wholly finishéd, - I from my gallery turned away. - "Give me green leaves and flesh and blood," I said, - "Fresh air and light of day. - I pine for Nature, sickened to my heart - Of the affected, strained, and queer. - What was to me Ambrosia of Art - Hath grown as drugged small-beer. - - "Yet pull not down my galleries rich and rare: - When Art abjures the crude and dim, - I yet may house the High Ideal there. - Purged from preposterous Whim!" - - _Punch_, July 14, 1877. - - * * * * * - -The following poem appeared in _The Times_ for May 9, 1859, and although -not included in the collected works of the Poet Laureate, it has been -generally ascribed to his pen. In its warlike promptings, and cheap -national bunkum, it resembles the other so-called patriotic songs of this -author, of whom nobody ever heard that he took up a rifle for his country, -or assisted the Volunteer movement in any way whatever:-- - - -THE WAR. - - There is a sound of thunder afar, - Storm in the South that darkens the day, - Storm of battle and thunder of war, - Well, if it do not roll our way. - Form! form! Riflemen, form! - Ready, be ready to meet the storm! - Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form! - - Be not deaf to the sound that warns! - Be not gull'd by a despot's plea! - Are figs of thistles, or grapes of thorns? - How should a despot set men free? - Form! form! Riflemen, form! - Ready, be ready to meet the storm! - Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form! - - Let your Reforms for a moment go, - Look to your butts, and take good aims. - Better a rotten borough or so, - Than a rotten fleet or a city in flames! - Form! form! Riflemen form! - Ready, be ready to meet the storm! - Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form! - - Form, be ready to do or die! - Form in Freedom's name and the Queen's! - True, that we have a faithful ally,[9] - But only the devil knows what he means. - Form! form! Riflemen, form! - Ready, be ready to meet the storm! - Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form! - - T. - - * * * * * - - -INTO THEM GOWN.[10] - -_A Wicked Parody on_ - -RIFLEMEN FORM. - - There was a sound of "Town" from afar, - Town in the High that threaten'd a mill, - Storm of town, and thunder of gown, - And town have got with them "Brummagem Bill." - Gown! Gown! into the Town, - Ready, be ready to meet the clown, - Into them; into them; into them, Gown. - - Be not afraid of the peelers' staves, - Be not gulled by a proctor's plea, - Velvetty arms are for flunkies, my braves, - Why should a proctor stop our spree? - Gown! Gown! into the Town, - Ready, be ready to meet the clown, - Into them; into them; into them, Gown. - - Leave your wines for a moment or so. - Double your fists for the State and the Church, - Better the purple claret should flow, - Than "_La Belle Science_" be left in the lurch. - Gown! Gown! into the Town, - Ready, be ready to meet the clown, - Into them; into them; into them Gown. - - Sweep! march ahead, look about, take care, - Deal black eyes and the bloody nose; - True that we have an excellent mayor, - Butt him again, and down he goes. - Gown! Gown! into the Town, - Ready, be ready to meet the clown, - Into them; into them; into them, Gown. - - _College Rhymes_, 1861. - - * * * * * - -The Poet Laureate has been subjected to much ridicule for the change which -has of late years been apparent in the tone of his writings, and his poem, -"Lady Clara Vere de Vere," has especially been seized on as the vehicle -for many malicious parodies directed against the fulsome adulation of -Royalty, contained in his later poems. - -It must be remembered that "Lady Clara Vere de Vere" was written more than -fifty years ago, when Alfred Tennyson was young, unknown, and unpensioned. -Like many of his early poems, it contains uncomplimentary allusions to our -hereditary aristocracy, into whose ranks he has only recently procured -admission. - -The heartless coquette, Lady Clara, is "the daughter of a hundred Earls," -and in her name the poet actually selected one of the oldest in the -English nobility on which to vent his indignation. The Vere (or De Vere) -family is of great antiquity, once holding the ancient Earldom of Oxford, -and as far back as 1387 one of these Earls of Oxford was created Duke of -Ireland, and Marquis of Dublin. It is certain the De Veres were noble in -the time of William I., and their pedigree has even been traced to a much -earlier period. "De Vere" still survives as one of the family names of -the Duke of St. Albans. The first Duke of St. Albans (illegitimate son -of Charles II. and Nell Gwynn, the orange girl), married Diana de Vere, -eldest daughter and heiress of Aubrey de Vere, the 20th and last Earl of -Oxford. - - -CAPTAIN FALCON OF THE GUARDS. - -I. - - Captain Falcon of the Guards, - How nice you thought to do me brown; - You thought that I'd accept a bill - For discount, when you went to town. - At me you smiled, but unbeguiled - I saw the snare, and I retired: - The black-leg of a hundred "hells," - Your friendship's not to be desired. - -II. - - Captain Falcon of the Guards, - I know you thought to get my name; - Your cunning was no match for mine, - Too wide-awake to play your game. - Nor would I write for your delight - A name the Jews ne'er saw before-- - My simple name across a bill - Is worth a hundred pounds or more. - -III. - - Captain Falcon of the Guards, - Some softer pupil you must find, - For were you Colonel of your troop, - I'd shun you still, and all your kind. - You thought to've seen me jolly green; - A plump refusal's my reply: - The army agents in Craig Court - Are not more up to you than I. - -IV. - - Captain Falcon of the Guards, - You put strange memories in my head; - Not thrice the bill had been renewed - When I beheld young Pigeon fled. - Your crack turn-outs, your drinking bouts, - A fine acquaintance you may be; - But there was that across the bill, - That he had hardly cared to see. - -V. - - Captain Falcon of the Guards, - When first he met the gov'nor's view, - He had the passions of his kind-- - He spake some certain truths of you. - Indeed, I heard one bitter word - About a certain game at cards, - Which, should it e'er get noised abroad, - Would cook your goose at the Horse Guards. - -VI. - - Captain Falcon of the Guards, - There stands a bailiff in your hall; - Tradesmen are knocking at your door: - Pigeon no longer pays for all. - You held your course without remorse, - To make him trust his run of luck, - And, last, you fairly stripped him clean, - And sought some other bird to pluck. - -VII. - - Trust me, Falcon of the Guards, - That bill to pay he never meant; - The grand old Judge who tried the cause - Smiled at your claim for money lent. - Howe'er it be, it seems to me - These promised pounds are not bank-notes; - Gold sovereigns are more than words, - And copper pence than paper groats. - -VIII. - - I know you, Falcon of the Guards; - You're linked with many a scoundrel crew, - Whose nights are spent in playing deep-- - Would that your play was honest too! - Be rogue, you must; spurned with mistrust, - Cash is no longer raised with ease; - Your credit, has it sunk so low, - You needs must play such pranks as these? - -IX. - - Captain Falcon of the Guards, - If tin be needful at your hand, - Are there no money lenders left, - Nor any Jews within the land? - Oh! take the bill-discounters in, - Or try the legal shark to do; - Pray write a promissory-note-- - And let the foolish Pigeons go. - - _The Puppet Show_, July 8, 1848. - - * * * * * - - -THE RUSSIAN CZAR. - - Oh, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar! - On me you shall not play the fool; - You thought to make a tool of me - Before you occupied Stamboul. - You drew your plan _en gentleman_, - But I was not to be deceived; - A Russian Czar's a Russian Czar-- - You are not one to be believed. - - * * * * * - - Oh, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar! - Some softer envoy you must gloze, - For were you Emperor of the world, - I would not stoop to tricks like those. - You set a cunning trap for me, - But I was cunning in reply; - The monjeike at your palace gate - Was not more _down_ to you than I. - - * * * * * - - But trust me, ruthless Russian Czar! - Though heaven above be brightly blue, - 'Tis writ upon your palace walls-- - Dark is the doom prepared for you! - Howe'er it be, it seems to me - The truly great are truly good; - God watches o'er those minarets - When _Christian faith_ sheds Turkish blood. - - I know you, haughty Russian Czar! - You sigh to leave your frozen towers; - Short-sighted are your bloated eyes, - Which strain to feast on Moslem bowers. - You move by stealth through boundless wealth; - Your very nobles are o'erawed; - You do so little good at home, - You needs must play such pranks abroad. - - Oh, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar! - If power be heavy on your hands, - Are there no wretches in your realm, - Nor any slaves upon your lands? - Oh teach your monjeiks how to read, - Emancipate your serfs; but no-- - _First pray to have a human heart_, - And let the turban'd Moslem go. - - _Diogenes_, April, 1854. - -(This parody contained nine verses in all.) - - * * * * * - - -LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE; - -OR, RUSTIC ADMIRATION. - - Lady Clara Vere de Vere, - The country sun has made you brown, - And now they tell me that you start - To-morrow afternoon for town; - Ah! how I sighed when I descried - Your lovely form beside the stream - The other day when on my way - I passed with Farmer Jackson's team! - - Lady Clara Vere de Vere, - I wish that you would change your name - For such a humble one as mine: - But no--you'd think it quite a shame; - So I must be content to take - My choice of humbler maiden's charms-- - Must marry someone who can bake, - And has a sturdy pair of arms. - - Lady Clara Vere de Vere, - Some "Lord Dundreary" _you_ must find; - Our rustic bread and cheese and beer - Would hardly suit your taste refined. - If I should write you of _my_ love, - And wait outside for a reply, - The lion on your old stone gates, - Would talk of verdure in his eye. - - * * * * * - - Lady Clara Vere de Vere, - They say--and really p'rhaps they're right-- - That I had better give you up, - And marry pretty Sally White; - You are a swell--_she_ loves me well, - And then her cooking is so good-- - Jam tarts are more than coronets, - And elder wine than Norman blood! - - SPHINX, CHRIST'S COLL., CAMBRIDGE. - - _College Rhymes_, 1868. - - * * * * * - - -LADY CLARA IN THE SOUTH. - - "Lady Clara Vere de Vere, - You whom the Laureate makes attacks on, - If your papa were not a peer, - If you were not an Anglo-Saxon, - In short, if 'twere not too absurd, - To think of _you_ where aught of trade is, - I'd almost say, upon my word, - I'm looking at you now in Cadiz." - -Here follow five other verses descriptive of a Spanish coquette, -concluding:-- - - "Lady Clara Vere de Vere, - I don't believe _femme souvent varie_, - Your sex are all the same, I fear, - From Timbuctoo to Tipperary." - - MAXWELL REILLY. - - _Kottabos_, Dublin 1870. - - * * * * * - -Another parody of "Lady Clara Vere de Vere" appeared in _Funny Folks_, -April 10, 1875, entitled "The Vicar's Surplice." It was addressed to -a Rev. Mr. Mucklestone, who had declined to pay the charges of his -laundress, a lady rejoicing in the euphonious name of Gubbins, who resided -at Haseley, in Warwickshire. The subject is somewhat wanting in dignity -for poetical treatment. The following is the first of six verses:-- - - "Reverend Mr. Mucklestone, - Of me you shall not win renown; - You thought to have your surplice washed - For nothing, but it won't go down. - At me you smiled, but unbeguiled, - Each time your surplice had a 'rense,' - I charged, and felt quite justified, - The modest sum of eighteenpence." - - * * * * * - - -A MAY DREAM OF THE FEMALE EXAMINATION. - - If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, - For to-morrow in the senate-house at nine I must appear: - To-morrow for all womankind will be a glorious day, - And I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say. - - There's many a blue, blue stocking, but none so blue as I; - There's not a girl amongst them all with me can hope to vie: - There's none so sharp as little Alice, not by a long, long way, - And I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say, - - I lie awake all night, mother, but in the morn I sleep, - And dream of Virgil, Euclid, Dons, all jumbled in a heap, - And the letters in the Euclid dance about like lambs at play: - O, I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say. - - As I came by King's Chapel, whom do you think I saw, - But Andrew Jones de Mandeville Fitzherbert Aspenshaw! - He thought of that hard problem I gave him yesterday; - For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say. - - He thought me such a bore, mother, for he couldn't get it right, - To see him puzzle o'er it was such a funny sight; - But not on such a dolt as that I'd throw myself away! - For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o the list, they say. - - They say he is fond-hearted, but that can never be: - He can't get through his "Littlego," then what is he to me? - There's many a Senior wrangler who'll woo me in the May, - For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say. - - Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the gate, - And, till they give the questions out, at the window she must wait; - And when she's got them, back to you, mother, she'll haste away, - And I m to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say. - - In the papers country parsons have been writing lots of trash: - They say this scheme for us, mother, is sure to come to smash; - And agèd Dons all shake their heads, and say it will not pay; - But I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say. - - If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, - I'd something more to say, mother, but my head is not quite clear; - For I always have a headache when I put my books away; - But I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list they say. - - * * * * * - - "I thought to have gone down before, but still up here I am, - And still there's hanging o'er me that horrible Exam. - They said I should be top, mother; but then I'd such bad luck, - Though I went in for honours--_I only got a pluck!_" - - -X. Y. B., CHRIST'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. - -_College Rhymes_, 1865. - - * * * * * - - -MRS. HENRY FAWCETT ON THE UNIVERSITY EDUCATION OF WOMEN, APRIL, 1884. - - "That large numbers of women--numbers that every year are - rapidly increasing--demand a University training is not a matter - of controversy; it is a simple fact. This training is already - offered to them by University College, London, and by Cambridge - University. The hall-mark of the degree is offered to them by the - University of London, and a certificate of having passed the Tripos - Examinations (almost as valuable as a degree) is offered to them by - the University of Cambridge. The last Census shows that there were - in Great Britain and Ireland more than 120,000 women teachers. To - many of these a University degree or certificate is of the highest - professional importance. This is a question to many women, not - of sentiment, but of bread. Those whose generosity has provided - scholarships, exhibitions, and a loan fund for women at Cambridge - could prove how invaluable to many a woman a University training - is. Equipped with her University certificate she can at once obtain - a situation, and command a much more adequate remuneration for her - services. Cambridge has had twelve years' experience of the presence - of women students resident in Newnham and Girton Colleges. They - number now in the two Colleges about 150. Nearly all the professors' - lectures are open to them; they attend some of the lectures given in - College rooms. When the experiment was first started at Cambridge - there is little doubt that the bulk of the residents thought the - presence of women students objectionable and alarming. But the - fears at first entertained were at Cambridge so entirely removed by - experience that when, in 1881, the question had to be decided by - the Senate of opening the Tripos examinations to the students of - Girton and Newnham, only thirty members of the Senate were found to - oppose it, while those who supported it were so numerous that it was - impossible to record all the votes within the time and under the - conditions prescribed. It was estimated that about 500 members of - the Senate came up to Cambridge to vote in favour of the proposal. - More than 300 actually voted. - - * * * * * - -The two Parodies, from which the following extracts are taken, appeared in -_The Porcupine_, a Liverpool comic paper. - -They refer to the Cart Horse procession held in Liverpool on May-day, and -describe, with tolerable accuracy, the scenes of rough revelry and noisy -merriment which this carnival gives rise to. These compositions are merely -quoted as curiosities, possessing, as they do, every attribute which -should be studiously avoided in a parody. They are slangy and vulgar, -more especially in the omitted verses, without being either humorous or -grotesque; they debase the memory of a really beautiful poem by the mere -trick of repetition of a catch-phrase and some slight imitation of its -metre. The subject chosen is low and commonplace, which might, perhaps, -have been excused, had the description of its unpleasant details been -enlivened by one spark of wit, or genuine originality. To the lovers of -an original poem such Parodies must be offensive; whilst to those who -delight in a really clever burlesque, such things as these can afford no -gratification, and only tend to bring _true Parody_ into disrepute. - - -THE DRAY QUEEN. - -_A Car-men on the May-day Carnival, after the Poet Lorry-ate._ - - YOU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear! - To-morrow'll be the liveliest time of all the glad New Year; - Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day, - For I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. - - There'll be many a black, black eye, they say, and many a lively shine - With Margaret and Mary, and Kate and Caroline; - But none can lick this little Alice, in all the court, they say; - So I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. - - I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake - If you do not call loud and give me, too, a jolly good shake; - As I must buy some bonnet-flowers and sky-blue ribbons gay, - For I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. - - As I came up our alley, whom think ye I should see? - But Robin leaning on Chisenhale Bridge, as screwed as he could be; - He had been cleaning his harness, mother, and drinking all the day; - But I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. - - You know my Robin drives a dray, a heavy brewer's cart; - To-morrow with his handsome team of horses he will start - A-roaming up and down the streets, loafing about all day, - And I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. - - To-morrow I'll get out of pawn my bran-new winsey frock, - For Robin he is sure to wear a reg'lar snow-white smock; - His dray is cleaned and painted up, and now looks very gay, - And I must be clean on the Dray, mother, I must be clean on the Dray. - - The horses' tails all nicely combed, with ribbons will be decked, - Upon the shining harness not a smirch you can detect, - The very brutes they seem to feel it is the first of May, - And I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. - - Upon the barrels I'll sit perched, the barrels all so full - Of smashing stuff they sell for beer, and give you the long pull. - My Robin rarely touches beer--for 'Rum's my drink,' he'll say-- - But I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. - - Through Lime-street, Lord-street, we'll parade each leading - thoroughfare, - While the spectators rival teams and turn-outs will compare, - On brewers' and on millers' carts the brazen bands will play, - And I'll be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'll be Queen o' the Dray. - - * * * * * - - For hours and hours we'll roam about, until the team it tires, - And Robin will imbibe more rum than he actually requires; - At many a 'public' he will stop a-moistening of his clay, - And I'll be the Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'll be the Queen o' - the Dray. - - * * * * * - - So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear. - If I don't seem to hear you, give me a smack upon the ear; - To-morrow'll be of all the year, the maddest, merriest day, - For I'm to be the Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' - the Dray. - - * * * * * - - -THE DRAY QUEEN. - -(_A Sequel to last May-day's Carol, by Our Own Poet Lorry-ate, Author of -"I'm A-float," &c._) - - IF you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, - For I would see the sun rise upon the carters' cheer; - It is the last of the turn-outs that I may ever see, - For Robin he lays me low with a kick--and thinks no more of me. - - Last May we had a reg'lar spree, we had such a jolly day, - And Robin, who drove a brewer's cart, he made me Queen o' the Dray; - And we danced and sung and got mad drunk on Walker's sixpenny hops, - Till the Charleys come at the row we made, and every one of us cops. - - And lugs us off to chokee, mother, and keeps us there all night, - As drunken and disorderlies--both women and men were tight-- - And Raffles, the beak, next morning, was in a terrible way-- - Ten shillin' we had to pay, mother, ten shillin' and costs to pay. - - And in default of payment,--our cash we had spent in ale,-- - That Raffles he gave us all a week within sweet Walton gaol, - Where soon we learnt to pick oakum (the skin's off my fingers still), - And Robin did "Sich a gettin' upstairs" upon the revolving mill. - - * * * * * - - The end of it was, he axed me, as I'd been Queen of his Dray, - If I would marry a scavenger as never did work by day, - And though his wages was but low--a matter o' twenty-five bob-- - Before the month o' May was out we settled the blessed job. - - At first my Robin was very kind and gentle, so to speak, - He never got drunk and kicked me--not more than twice a week, - And of his weekly wages, no matter what else he did, - He never would spend on pay-nights more than eighteen bob or a quid. - - * * * * * - - And after that--it's a month ago--my Robin got much worse, - 'Twould make your hair just stand on end to hear him swear and curse, - He never gets drunk as he used to do--that's once or twice in a week-- - He's never properly sober, on me all his rage he'll wreak. - - When he comes home of a morning, it's rarely he goes to bed, - He takes to drinking about all day, and hammerin' me instead, - And well I know my husband's hand, it's weight I often feel, - I wouldn't be lyin' so low, mother, if not for my husband's heel. - - The brewers' carts and the scavengers' to-morrow will be gay, - The horses all with ribands decked will walk in grand array, - The Corporation carters and their wives will have a spread, - And get their annual dinner 'neath the great Haymarket shed. - - * * * * * - - Good-night, dear mother, call me before the day is born; - I'd like to see the carters a-marching in the morn; - The pubs, are closing early, very early, mother dear, - So, if you've got any coppers left, just go for a quart of beer! - - * * * * * - - -THE MAY QUEEN. - -(_New Version, adapted to existing Climatic Conditions_). - -[CONSIDERING apology superfluous, Mr. Punch offers none, as the Poet -Laureate will doubtless approve the modification of his beautiful lines, -rendered needful by recent meteorological conditions.] - - YOU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; - To-morrow'll be the tryingest time of all the Spring, this year-- - Of all the Spring, this year, mother, the dreariest, dreadfullest day; - For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. - - There'll be many a red, red nose, no doubt, but none so red as mine; - For the wind is still in the East, mother, and makes one peak and pine: - And we're going to have six weeks of it, or so the prophets say say-- - And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. - - I sleep so sound all night, mother, I am sure I shall never wake. - So you'd better call me loud, mother, and perhaps you'll have to shake: - I shall want some coffee hot and strong, before I'm called away, - To shiver as Queen o' the May, mother, to shiver as Queen o' the May. - - As I was coming home to-night, whom think you I should see - But DOCTOR SQUILLS! And he saw that my nose was as red as red could be; - And he said the weather was cruel sharp, that I'd better stay away,-- - But I'm chosen Queen o' the May, mother, so I must be Queen o' the May. - - The honeysuckle round the porch is white with sleety showers, - And, though they call it the month of May, the hawthorn has no flowers; - And the ice in patches may yet be found in swamps and hollows gray,-- - Ain't it nice for the Queen o' the May, mother, so nice for the Queen - o' the May? - - The East wind blows and blows, mother, on my nose I follow suit, - For my influenza's so very bad, and I've got a cough to boot; - Perhaps it will rain and sleet, mother, the whole of the livelong day, - Yet, I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother; I must be Queen o' the May. - - I've not the slightest doubt, mother, I shall come home very ill, - And then there'll be bed for a week or more, and a long, long, - doctor's bill; - And with prices up and wages down however will father pay? - But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother--oh bother the Queen o' the May! - - So please wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, - That I may look out some winter wraps, fit for the spring this year. - To-morrow of this bitter "snap," I'm sure 'twill be the bitterest day, - For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May." - - _Punch_, May 12, 1877. - - * * * * * - -Truth had a long parody describing the visit in 1877 of Dom Pedro, Emperor -of Brazil, whose early rising, and insatiable appetite for sight-seeing -were the topics of conversation. Two verses are sufficient to indicate the -style:-- - - -THE SIGHT-SEEING EMPEROR. - - IF you're waking, call me early, "Boots," not later, please, than four, - And if you're passing earlier, pray rat-tat at my door; - But stay I have so much to do, that p'rhaps 'twill better be, - Not to depend on you at all, but call myself at three. - - * * * * * - - I cannot, though an Emperor, stay quietly at home, - Some impulse irresistibly makes me for ever roam; - Each week it holds me tighter still beneath its mystic thrall, - Till soon I am afraid I shall not eat or sleep at all. - - _Truth_, June 21, 1877. - -Another parody of the same original, called _The Business of Pleasure_, -appeared in _Truth_, May 9, 1878. - - * * * * * - - -THE PENGE MYSTERY TRIAL. - - YOU must come and dress me early, very early, Simmons, mind! - For to-morrow'll be the summing-up, and I must not be behind; - Of all this jolly trial, I'm told, to-morrow'll be _the_ day, - So be sure you call me early, Simmons; now attend to what I say! - - * * * * * - - The judge means hanging, so they say, and when the sentence's pass'd, - There's sure to be an awful scene, more curious than the last; - P'raps the men will have hysterics--_that_ would be fun to see! - And Alice Rhodes may have a fit. Oh! how jolly it will be! - - So you must wake and call me early, Simmons, call me early, Simmons, - mind! - Or I'll give you a month's warning if you are at all behind! - For to-morrow'll be, of all the trial, the awfullest jolliest day, - For I think all four will be hanged, Simmons; all four will be hanged, - they say! - - _Truth_, October 4, 1877. - - * * * * * - - -THE WELSHER'S LAMENT. - -(_On the Suppression of Suburban Race Meetings_). - -May, 1879. - - IF yer passin', knock me up, Bill; knock me up, old cock, d'yer yere; - For to-morrer's Kingsbury meetin', is the last there'll be, I fear; - Of all suburbin races, the werry last they say, - For that Anderson in Parlyment, 'as contrived to get 'is way. - It's ter'ble rough on us, Bill; on us, an' all our pals, - As 'asn't got no tickets for that bloomin' Tattersall's; - For 'ow without these meetin's our livin's were to get, - Is a rayther ticklish problim, as I 'avent worked out yet. - - _Truth_, February 21, 1878. - - * * * * * - - -THE MODERN MAY QUEEN. - -(_The Result of the First Fortnight_). - - DON'T wake and call me early, pray don't call me, mother dear, - To-morrow may be the coldest day of all this cold New Year; - Of all this wintry year, mother, the wildest stormiest day, - And we have had fires in May, mother, we have had fires in May. - - I sleep so sound at night, mother, that I don't want to wake, - With the horrid thermometer standing at what seems a sad mistake; - But none so wise as those who read the weather forecasts, they say; - Shall we have more fires in May, mother? must we have more fires - in May? - - A storm is coming across, mother, the _New York Herald_ has said, - And, if you please, I'd rather lie as long as I like in bed; - So bother the knots and garlands, mother, and all the foolish play, - If we're to have fires in May, mother, why--we must have fires in May. - - _Punch_, May 28, 1881. - -The following parody appeared originally in a clever little Cambridge -University Magazine, entitled _Light Green_, which has long been out of -print. _Light Green_ contained many excellent parodies, notable amongst -them being:--_The May Exam._, after Tennyson; _The Song of the Shirk_, -after Hood; _The Heathen Pass-ee_, after Bret Harte; and _The Vulture and -the Husbandman_, after Lewis Carroll. These, with several other amusing -pieces of poetry, have been reprinted in a small pamphlet, which can be -obtained from W. Metcalfe and Son, Trinity-street, Cambridge. - - -THE MAY EXAM. - -(_By Alfred Pennysong_). - - "Semper floreat - Poeta Laureate."--HORACE. - - YOU must wake and call me early, call me early, Filcher dear, - To-morrow 'ill be a happy time for all the Freshman's year; - For all the Freshman's year, Filcher, the most delightful day, - For I shall be in for my May, Filcher, I shall be in for my May! - - There's many a hot, hot man, they say, but none so hot as me; - There's Middlethwaite and Muggins, there's Kane and Kersetjee; - But none so good as little Jones in all the lot, they say, - So I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May! - - I read so hard at night, Filcher, that I shall never rise, - If you do not take a wettish sponge and dab it in my eyes: - For I must prove the G.C.M., and substitute for _a_, - For I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May. - - As I came through the College Backs, whom think ye should I see - But the Junior Dean upon the Bridge proceeding out to tea? - He thought of that Ægrotat, Filcher, I pleaded yesterday,-- - But I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May. - - There are men that come and go, Filcher, who care not for a class, - And their faces seem to brighten if they get a common pass; - They never do a stitch of work the whole of the live-long day,-- - But I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May! - - All the College Hall, my Filcher, will be fresh and clean and still, - And the tables will be dotted o'er with paper, ink, and quill; - And some will do their papers quick, and run away to play,-- - But I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May! - - So you must wake and call me early, call me early, Filcher dear, - To-morrow 'ill be a happy time for all the Freshman's year; - For all the Freshman's year, Filcher, the most delightful day, - For I shall be in for my May, Filcher, I shall be in for my May! - - * * * * * - - -NEW-YEAR'S EVE. - - If you're waking call me early, call me early, Filcher dear, - For I'll keep a morning Chapel upon my last New-year. - My last New-year before I take my Bachelor's Degree, - Then you may sell my crockery-ware, and think no more of me. - - To-night I bade good-bye to Smith: he went and left behind - His good old rooms, those dear old rooms, where oft I sweetly dined; - There's a new year coming up, Filcher, but I shall never see - The Freshman's solid breakfast, or the Freshman's heavy tea. - - Last May we went to Newmarket: we had a festive day, - With a decentish cold luncheon in a tidy one-horse-shay. - With our lardy-dardy garments we were really "on the spot," - And Charley Vain came out so grand in a tall white chimney-pot. - - There's not a man about the place but doleful Questionists; - I only wish to live until the reading of the Lists. - I wish the hard Examiners would melt and place me high; - I long to be a Wrangler, but I'm sure I don't know why. - - Upon this battered table, and within these rooms of mine, - In the early, early morning there'll be many a festive shine; - And the Dean will come and comment on "this most unseemly noise," - Saying, "Gentlemen, remember, pray, you're now no longer boys." - - When the men come up again Filcher, and the Term is at its height, - You'll never see me more in these long gay rooms at night; - When the old dry wines are circling and the claret-cup flows cool, - And the loo is fast and furious with a fiver in the pool. - - You'll pack my things up, Filcher, with Mrs. Tester's aid, - You may keep the wine I leave behind, the tea, and marmalade. - I shall not forget you, Filcher, I shall tip you when I pass, - And I'll give you something handsome if I get a second-class. - - Good-night, good-night, when I have passed my tripos with success, - And you see me driving off to catch the one o'clock "express;" - Don't let Mrs. Tester hang about beside the porter's lodge, - I ain't a fool, you know, and I can penetrate that dodge. - - She'll find my books and papers lying all about the floor, - Let her take 'em, they are hers, I shall never use 'em more; - But tell her, to console her, if she's mourning for my loss. - That she's quite the dirtiest bedmaker, I ever came across. - - Good-night: you need not call me till the bell for service rings, - Through practice I am pretty quick at putting on my things; - But I would keep a Chapel upon my last New Year, - So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, Filcher dear. - - -CONCLUSION. - - I thought to pass some time ago, but hang it, here I am, - Having "muckered" in a certain Mathematical Exam. - I have been "excused the General," and my reverent Tutor thinks - I must take up Natural Science, which is commonly called "Stinks." - - O sweet is academic life within these ancient walls, - And sweet are Cambridge pleasures--boating, billiards, breakfasts, - balls; - But sweeter far about this time than all these things to me - Would be the acquisition of my Bachelor's Degree. - - * * * * * - - -THE PREMIER'S LAMENT. - - I'll be in the House quite early, you come later, Herbie dear, - This night will be the hardest in the Cabinet's career; - Of all our mad career, Herbie, the hardest, horridest night, - For the Vote of Censure's on us, and the Opposition fight. - - * * * * * - - O, sweet's the docile Liberal who never wants to rise. - And sweeter still the Radical who shuns the Speaker's eyes, - And sweet are dumb majorities, and men who silent stay, - For the hardest things to listen to are what our friends all say. - - * * * * * - - There's Parnell's lot, my Herbie, that wretched Irish crew; - Don't go and say I said so, this is confidence for you: - I've done my best to catch them, and gain their solid vote; - But Trevelyan's such a blunderer, he's always at their throat. - - * * * * * - - So I will go down early, you come down after, Herbie dear; - To-morrow may be the saddest day of this our sad fifth year. - I've felt some twinges sometimes of conscience and of gout; - But the painfullest of all would be to know that we're turned out. - - _The Evening News_, February 18, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE NEW LORD MAYOR. - -(_A long way after Tennyson_). - - You must mind and call me early, call me early, JOHN, d'ye hear. - To-morrow'll be the nobbiest day of all this blessed year: - Of all this wonderful year, JOHN, the scrumptiousest I declare, - For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN! I'm to be made Lord Mayor! - - There's many an Aldermanic Swell, but none so great as me; - I scorn your Common Councillors, such men I will not see; - But none so grand as Alderman ELLIS the Liverymen all swear, - For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN! I'm to be made Lord Mayor! - - I sleep well after a heavy meal, and I shall never wake, - If you don't knock at my door, JOHN, when day begins to break; - And I must dress in my Sunday clothes, and titivate up my hair, - For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN, I'm to be made Lord Mayor! - - As I came up to the Mansion House, whom think ye I should see, - But FIGGINS and other Aldermen as glum as they well could be, - They thought of the coming pageantry, and how I should swagger there, - For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN, I'm to be made Lord Mayor! - - Then mind and call me early, call me early, JOHN, don't fear - To dig me in my illustrious ribs, and shout in my lordly ear; - And to-morrow will see me roll along, while all the people stare, - For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN! I'm to be made Lord Mayor! - - _Punch_, November 12, 1881. - - * * * * * - - -THE LORD MAYOR TO THE LADY MAYORESS. - -["If this bill becomes law, it will be our proud privilege to continue the -existence of the Lord Mayor for six months, until it comes into action on -the 1st of May, 1885."--_Sir W. V. Harcourt's Speech._] - - If you've read Sir Vernon's speech upon the City, daughter dear, - You will see that London's downfall from its great estate is near; - But one comfort you will gather--not November ends our sway, - For I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May! - - I have said that I will fight the bill, in clause, and line, and word. - I may not be the conqueror, but my protests shall be heard-- - Though that clause my office to extend for six months more may stay, - That I may be Mayor till May, daughter, I may be Mayor till May! - - They do not stop our banqueting, so that clause I don't condemn-- - Oh, the Ministers won't abrogate the feeds we give to them! - And that is about the only good they do not take away-- - But I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May! - - * * * * * - - Can Harcourt think to bribe me by this one continuance clause? - He'll see that I shall show the bill to be little else but flaws! - This "sop" as he may fancy it, won't affect what I've to say, - Tho' I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May! - - Now tell me your opinion on the matter, daughter dear, - For you will be Lady Mayoress as long as we are here; - And if it passes, recollect _we_ pass next "Lord Mayor's Day," - And I shall be Mayor till May, daughter, I shall be Mayor till May! - - _Funny Folks_, May 3, 1884. - - * * * * * - -The Prize Editor of _The Weekly Dispatch_ offered two guineas for the -best original parody of Tennyson's "May Queen," to consist of not more -than five verses, having some reference to current politics. The prize -was awarded to Mr. F. W. Binstead, 76, Ockendon road, Canonbury, N., for -the following poem, which was published in _The Weekly Dispatch_, May 4, -1884:-- - - -THE LAST LORD MAYOR TO HIS FAVOURITE BEADLE. - - You must wake and call me early, call me early, Bumble, dear, - I mean to fight with all my might each minute of this year; - For a play is in rehearsal now--a tragic, terrible play-- - And I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay! - - I'll fight from morn till night, Bumble--my soul must never quake-- - For calipash and calipee and Corporation's sake; - And I must don the lion's skin, although I can but bray, - For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay! - - When I was in the Commons, whom think ye I should see, - But Harcourt smiling on his seat, just close to William G.? - He thought not of the feed, Bumble, we gave him t'other day-- - But I will be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I will be Griffin at Bay! - - They want to wreck, with sinful hand, our great time-honoured powers, - And take away the wealth and might which have so long been ours; - But I will roar and bluster, in my old accustomed way, - For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay! - - Go, summons all my aldermen, and bid them take their fill, - From terror free let them with me all gaily feast and swill; - Reform need have no fears for them, so bid them all be gay, - For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay! - - * * * * * - -Four other parodies, which had been sent in for competition, were also -printed:-- - - -THE EVE OF THE GENERAL ELECTION. - - We must wake and get up early, get up early, brother Grimes, - For to-morrow'll be the greatest day of all the modern times; - Of all the modern times, brother, the day so long delayed, - When we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made. - - There's many a low, low lot, they said, but none so low as we, - So sunk in ignorance and vice, in want and penury; - But none so stupid as poor Hodge in all the land, they said; - But we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made. - - * * * * * - - So we'll rise and poll us early, poll us early, brother Grimes, - For to-morrow'll be the important day of all the glad new times; - Of all the glad new times, brother, the day so long delayed, - When we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made. - - JAMES FRASER. - - -TORY LORD TO DITTO DITTO ON THE EVE OF THE INTRODUCTION OF THE FRANCHISE -BILL INTO THE UPPER HOUSE. - - If you're going, look in early, look in early, brother peer, - To-morrow we'll have the merriest fling we've had for many a year; - We've had for many a year, brother--Aha! hip, hip, hooray! - For "the measure" comes up, they say, brother, "the measure" comes - up, they say. - - The bishops will go with us, brother, and landlords fat and lean, - And they'll vote ditto, brother--the weak-kneed Whigs, I mean; - With quiddities and flow'ry quirks we'll whittle the bill away. - We'll whittle the bill away, brother, we'll whittle the bill away. - - And all the law-lords, brother, will use their subtle skill - By verbiage and amendment sly to mutilate the bill; - Our lordly mashers, too, brother, will meet in grand array, - For 'twill be as good as the play, brother, 'twill be as good as the - play. - - We thought to kick it out, brother, but we've found it wouldn't pay; - J. B. would never stand it, so we'll better tact display; - And we'll hocuss him, you see brother, and mar its clauses dear: - So, we'll be early, places taking, we'll be early, brother peer. - - GERMANICUS. - - -ON THE EVE OF A DEBATE ON THE FRANCHISE BILL. - - You must wake up! there'll be such a hurly-burly, Staffy, dear; - To-morrow'll be the merriest night the House has had this year; - Of all the nights this year, Staffy, the night to be marked with chalk, - For I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk. - - There's many a clack-clack cry, they say, but none so shrill as mine; - There's Peel and Gorst and Drummond, there's Balfour superfine; - But none so rare as little Randy in all the House for talk, - So I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk. - - As I came through the lobby whom think ye should I see - But Gladdy poring o'er the bill to set the yokels free. - He caught my eye and shook, Staffy--I eyed him like a hawk! - But I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk. - - The hinds may reap and sow, Staffy, but ere that measure pass, - The cows will get the franchise as they munch the meadow grass; - There will not be a vote for Hodge, if only the bill we baulk, - And I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk. - - All the Tories, Staffy, will obstruct it with a will, - And the swift foot and the slow foot will mash and maul the bill; - And the G.O.M. will fret and fume like fizz when you draw the cork, - For I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk. - - GOSSAMER. - - -THE PREMIER TO MRS. GLADSTONE. - - You must wake me in the morning, rouse me early, wifey, dear; - To-morrow'll be a ticklish time at Westminster, I hear; - At Westminster, the Franchise Bill will glide upon its way, - And I shall have something to say, deary, I shall have something to - say. - - There's many a black-legged Tory who would frustrate our design-- - There's Northcote and there's Goschen, who was once a friend of mine; - But none, I think, will stand their ground if I can get fair play, - For they know it is true what I say, deary, they know it is true - what I say. - - I sleep so light of late, wifey, that bedtime comes in vain, - They've bored me so with Gordon that I've Egypt on the brain: - Yet I'll regain these wasted hours--this loss of time won't pay-- - And show that I mean what I say, deary, show that I mean what I say. - - * * * * * - - JESSIE H. WHEELER. - -_The Weekly Dispatch_, May 4, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE PROMISE OF MAY! - -(_An Old Song re-set, and specially dedicated, for purposes of recitation, -to Mrs. Bernard-Beere, Manageress of the Globe Theatre_). - - YOU must call rehearsals early, call them early, KELLY dear! - November'll be the merriest month of our dramatic year; - November I have fixed it for the Laureate's new play, - And I'm to be Promise of May, KELLY, I'm to be Promise of May! - - There's many a chosen priestess in the wild æsthetic line. - There's ELLEN! and there's MARION! whose fingers intertwine! - But all the Grosvenor Gallery think none like me, they say; - So I'm to be Promise of May, KELLY, I'm to be Promise of May! - - I'm thinking of _the_ night, you know, both sleeping and awake, - And I hear them calling loudly till their voices seem to break; - But I must fashion lots of gowns in Liberty silks so gay, - For I'm to be Promise of May, my Lad, I'm to be Promise of May! - - I went down into Surrey--don't laugh, it is no joke-- - And found the great Bard dramatist wrapt in a cloak--of smoke! - He handed me his manuscript, and read it yesterday; - So I'm to be Promise of Maytime, I'm to be Promise of May! - - He said I was ideal, because I kept it up, - This mixture of his _Dora_, and his _Camma_ in the _Cup_. - They call me a _replica_, but I care not what they say. - Now I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May! - - They say he's pining still for fame; but that can never be. - He likes to roar his lyrics, but what is that to me? - I'll fill the Globe with worshippers, in the old Lyceum way-- - For I'm to be Promise of May, my Friend, I'm to be Promise of May! - - My sisters of the _cultus_ shall attend me clad in green; - All the poets and the painters must hail me as their Queen! - The great dramatic critics of course will have their say, - Now I'm to be Promise of Maytime, I'm to be Promise of May! - - The Pit with wild excitement will tremble, never fear, - And the merry gods above them will greet me with a cheer! - There will not be a ribald line in all the Laureate's play, - For I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May! - - All the Stalls will sit in silence, or with cynicism chill - Will pick the Bard to pieces, and work their own sweet will; - And HAMILTON CLARKE in the orchestra he'll merrily pose and play-- - For I'm to be Promise of May, my Lad, I'm to be Promise of May! - - So call rehearsals early, call them early, there's a dear! - Bid gipsy-tinted ORMSBY and VEZIN to appear. - November'll see what "gushers" call the "sweetest, daintiest play," - And I'm to be Promise of May, KELLY, I'm to be Promise of - May! - - _Punch_, November 4, 1882. - -As this parody refers to a nearly-forgotten play, the allusions in it may -best be explained by the reproduction of the Play-bill, which has now -become a literary curiosity. - - * * * * * - -The drama was a complete and melancholy failure; even George Augustus -Sala, most lenient and genial of critics, could not but condemn it, as -being as unactable a play as Shelley's "Cenci," or Swinburne's "Bothwell," -or Southey's "Wat Tyler," whilst it possessed none of the literary merits -of either of those compositions. He added, "It is finally and most -wretchedly unfortunate that an illustrious English poet has not by his -side some really candid and judicious friend, with influence enough, and -courage enough, to persuade him to desist from subjecting this disastrous -production to the ordeal of representation before a miscellaneous -audience." - -Bad as _The Promise of May_ was, it contained one leading idea, which, -from the very opposition it gave rise to, enabled the management to keep -the play on the boards much longer than could have been anticipated. The -plot had been foreshadowed in one of Tennyson's earliest poems, _The -Sisters:_-- - - "We were two daughters of one race: - She was the fairest in the face: - The wind is blowing in turret and tree. - They were together, and she fell: - Therefore revenge became me well. - O the Earl was fair to see!" - - - THE GLOBE THEATRE. - - Licensed by the Lord Chamberlain to Mr. F. MAITLAND, 26½, Newcastle - Street. - - _Under the Management of_ - MRS. BERNARD-BEERE. - - _On SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11th, 1882_, - WILL BE PRODUCED - A NEW AND ORIGINAL RUSTIC DRAMA, IN PROSE, - BY - ALFRED TENNYSON (POET LAUREATE), - ENTITLED, THE - PROMISE OF MAY, - IN THREE ACTS. - - THE WHOLE PRODUCED UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF - MR. CHARLES KELLY. - - _At_ 8.45 BY - _THE PROMISE OF MAY_. _ALFRED TENNYSON_. - The town lay still in Farmer Dobson Mr. CHARLES KELLY. - But a red fire woke in the - the low sun-light, Edgar Mr. HERMANN VEZIN. - heart of the town, - Farmer Steer, _Dora's Father_ .. Mr. H. CAMERON. - Mr. Wilson, _a Schoolmaster_ .. Mr. E. T. MARCH. - The hen cluct late James } {Mr. H. HALLEY. - And a fox from the glen ran - by the white farm gate, Dan Smith} {Mr. C. MEDWIN. - away with the hen, - Higgins } _Farm_ {Mr. A. PHILLIPS. - The maid to her dairy Jackson } _Labourers_ {Mr. G. STEPHENS. - And a cat to the cream, and a - came in from the cow, Allen} {Mr. H. E. RUSSELL. - rat to the cheese, - - The stock-dove coo'd Dora Steer Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE. - And the stock-dove coo'd till - at the fall of night, Eva, _her Sister_ MISS EMMELINE ORMSBY. - a kite dropped down, - _By permission of Mr. Wilson Barrett._ - - The blossom had open'd Sally} _Farm Servants_. {Miss ALEXES LEIGHTON. - And a salt wind burnt the - on every bough. Milly} {Miss MAGGIE HUNT. - blossoming trees. - - The whole produced under the direction of - O joy for the promise of May, Mr. CHARLES KELLY. - of May. - O grief for the promise of May, - of May, - - ACT I.--STEER'S FARM. - O joy for the promise of May. _Six years are supposed to have elapsed - between Acts_ 1 & 2. O grief for the - promise of May. - ACT II.--THE BRIDGE BY THE HAY FIELD. TENNYSON. - ACT III.--THE UPPER HALL IN STEER'S FARM. - - _Music composed by_ .......... Mr. HAMILTON CLARKE. - _Dances arranged by_ .......... Mr. J. D'AUBAN. - _Rustic Dresses by_ .......... Mrs. NETTLESHIP. - _Scenery by_ ............ Messrs. HANN, SPONG, & PERKINS. - _Acting-Manager_--Mr. CHARLES J. ABUD. - -Assuming that Mrs. Bernard-Beere, as _Dora Steer_, speaks these lines, -we have the counterpart of the villainously seductive Earl in _Philip -Edgar_, a thankless part, which was admirably played by Mr. Hermann Vezin. -This _Edgar_, having ruined and abandoned one sister, returns, after an -interval of five or six years, to the scene of his former conquest, and -lays siege to the heart of the other sister; confidentially informing -the audience that he intends to marry _Dora_ as an atonement for the -injuries he has inflicted on the luckless _Eva_. The shouts of derisive -laughter with which this announcement (the culmination of absurdity), -was met on the first night, led Mr. Hermann Vezin to somewhat modify his -language on the following evenings, but he was still compelled to inflict -on the audience the most tedious and extraordinary soliloquies touching -Communism, Free-love, Agnosticism, and other wholly undramatic topics. -For Tennyson had, with characteristic bigotry, chosen to assume that a -Freethinker must necessarily be a villain; and with a view of generally -condemning opinions distasteful to him, had burdened poor Edgar with the -task of proclaiming himself at once as a seducer, a hypocrite, a liar, a -coward, a Freethinker, an Agnostic, a Secularist, a Democrat--and all this -in speeches of a contradictory and decidedly tiresome description. - -On the third representation of the drama the Marquis of Queensberry, who -occupied a seat in the stalls, rose, and loudly protested against the -Laureate's misrepresentation of the principles of freethought as a gross -caricature, especially in regard to Edgar's sentiments about the law of -marriage. - -He subsequently addressed a letter to _The Globe_, containing the -following explanation:-- - - -"THE PROMISE OF MAY." - -TO THE EDITOR OF THE GLOBE. - - "SIR,--In reply to Mr. Hermann Vezin's letter, which appears in your - issue of to-day, may I be allowed to make a few remarks? He says - that on the first night 'some one started a hiss, which soon grew - into a storm,' &c., and he continues to say, 'it is to be presumed - that this opposition came from professing orthodox Christian - people. On the third night the Marquis of Queensberry, a professed - Freethinker, rose in his stall, and loudly protested against what he - considered a caricature of his own sect.' Not a caricature against - my own sect, Sir, which is Secularism, but against an infamous libel - to the whole body of people who have been designated by that name - of Freethinkers. Mr. Hermann Vezin says, here we have a curious - spectacle of the most outspoken opposition from both extremes, and - that neither party has quite caught Mr. Tennyson's meaning. Whether - two separate parties spoke (or only one, as I expect is the case) - it would be as well if Mr. Tennyson himself would explain what his - meaning is; for, coming so soon after the poem, which he issued to - the public a short time ago, entitled 'Despair,' we Freethinkers - can have but one opinion as to what his meaning is, and that is to - caricature and to misrepresent what the outcome of freethought has - led to in its secession from orthodoxy. My object the other night - in causing an 'interruption' at the theatre was not only to make - a public protest against the supposed sentiments of a Freethinker - (on marriage), but to attract public attention to that protest, - and I consider that the end justified the means, considering - the difficulty that we have in getting a hearing from those who - oppose us, and not only who oppose us, but who misrepresent us. - Freethinkers may not be satisfied with the present marriage law--as - I explained the other day in my letter to the _Daily News_--but that - is no reason that they should not respect marriage, and we cannot be - attacked on a more tender point, from the very delicacy there is to - speak on the subject.--Yours faithfully, - - "QUEENSBERRY. - - "45, Half Moon-street, Piccadilly, November 20, 1882." - -This led to a discussion in the newspapers on Tennyson's muddled -metaphysics and absurd theories; public curiosity was thus aroused, and -the management was enabled to run the play much longer than could have -been expected from its original reception. - -_Punch_ (November 25, 1882) had a long and elaborate criticism of the -play, giving a humorous analysis of the plot. The opening and closing -paragraphs are much to the point, especially as they include two amusing -parodies. - - -NEITHER RHYME NOR REASON; - -_Or, Promise of May, and Performance of November at the Globe._ - - "THE sources of literary ambition are proverbially obscure, and - it is scarcely worth while to enquire why the Laureate, who has - spent a lifetime in filling the world with his verse, should, at - the eleventh hour, have conceived the idea of emptying the Globe - with his prose. If there could be any doubt that he had not only - done so, but also had set himself to the business with a right good - will, the hearty and sympathetic jeers of the not unkindly audience - that attended the first performance of his _Promise_ the other - evening must have settled the matter. Indeed, some of the Poet's own - lines--or something like them--seemed to occur to everybody. Even - his staunchest admirers could be heard in the lobbies between the - acts respectfully quoting to each other-- - - 'I hold it truth that he who flings - His harp aside, to try the bones, - Will somehow find that paving stones, - Are levelled at his neatest things.' - - By the way, the management might even now take a hint from a rival - establishment, and try this on a poster. - - "The plot of the piece is simplicity itself, and if the talented - author had merely contented himself with working out his pretty - little idyl in some ordinary and unpretentious fashion, there could - hardly have been any doubt about the result. But he went further - than this, and in some inspired moment appears to have conceived the - brilliant and happy idea of spicing his whole story, from beginning - to end, with the wildest and most boisterous fun. - - "Not that his purpose was distinctly apparent on the first go off - of his piece in a Lincolnshire farm; for the serious utterances of - several gloomy rustics for a few moments filled the house almost - with awe. - - "However, with so much genuine pantomime go for the finish in - reserve, very possibly the author knew what he was about. And he was - not at fault. He must have realised what depths of quiet fun would - be stirred when placing Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE over the dead body of - _Eva_, he made her, in so many words, courteously request _Farmer - Dobson_ and the comic agnostic _Edgar_ to consider themselves quite - at home, and not mind the corpse, as she had a few general remarks - to make that wouldn't take her much more than five-and-twenty - minutes. - - "But there,--the matter really defies sober criticism, and, taking - his own charming lines from the bill, the story is soon told:-- - - 'The Town booked well for the opening night, - The Pit was full, an evident pull, - The Grand Old Man had a box of his own, - And VEZIN behind said it looked all right, - And the critics in front took an excellent tone. - There's a chance for _The Promise of May, of May_, - There's a chance for _The Promise of May_. - - 'But a sly wink woke in the eye of the Town, - And a frivolous fit got hold of the Pit, - And KELLY a pitchfork, and VEZIN a roar, - And the stock chaff followed the Curtain down; - And the Critics they did--as they've done before-- - They slaughtered _The Promise of May_, _of May_, - They slaughtered _The Promise of May!_' - - "The Laureate cannot write a playable play. _The Falcon_ at the St. - James's was saved by the acting; _Queen Mary_, nothing could save; - _The Cup_ was the success of Miss ELLEN TERRY, Mr. IRVING, the - scene-painter, and the stage management. - - "But _The Promise of May_ must be an Utter Frost, with, we are sorry - to think, no Promise to Pay in it; and nothing, except the spasmodic - curiosity of the Public to see what the Laureate can't do, can set - this unfortunate Humpty-Dumpty up again." - - * * * * * - - -THE LAUREATE'S LATEST. - - The "town" ran off to the Globe one night, - For a play was played then from the Laureate's pen; - But they soon said, "How dare he?" and kicked up a "row," - And pooh-poohed the drama--and serve it right, - For that it deserved it I think you'll allow. - Yea, they jeered at "The Promise of May,"--of May-- - Annoyed at "The Promise of May." - - But stay; we'd better, maybe, leave that song, - Yea, leave its "hen," its "fox," its "cat," and "cheese"-- - For where is he who can burlesque burlesque? - And this strange playwright, mystic, wonderful, - Loved stage plays with a love that was his doom! - For lo! this "Promise" played by Bernardbeere - Has gained, at least, this very doubtful fame-- - Hereafter, through all ages--"'Twas no good!" - - The critics, o'er its threadbare plot, - Ere long grew "crusty"--one and all. - Said they, "'Twill fail; such awful rot - Will on the public quickly pall. - The leading character is strange, - The rest are all a prosy batch, - The audience they'll never catch-- - The programme they must shortly change. - - "A. T.," they said, "'tis weak and dreary. - A lot of bosh," they said. - "It makes the audience aweary; - Soon it will be dead!" - - Besides the forced and feeble plot, - Full soon did men discover - The scientific "snob" was not - A pleasant sort of lover. - - Of speech he had an awful flow-- - Which Tennyson thought clever-- - And he soliloquised as though - He meant to jaw for ever! - - And then unto the critics and reviewers, - Irresponsible critics and reviewers, - Thus, Alfred (not in metre of Catullus-- - But more in "In Memoriam" sort of measure): - - "The critics prattle on amain-- - That envious and grumbling race - Declare my play is commonplace, - And rather full of chaff than grain. - - "I hold it true--although they bawl, - And I may heavy find the cost-- - 'Tis better to produce a 'frost' - Than ne'er to write a play at all." - - And then unto the Queen (s'berry) he hymned - This little lay; for he, the noble "Q.," - Cried out at Edgar's "Maxims of the Mud." - Then Alfred and fair Bernardbeere were glad, - And rested well content that all was well. - - "You jeered, O, "Q," and you were bold - To treat my great prose-play with mirth; - But your advertisement was worth - No end of praise and lots of gold. - - "For _now_ the town will haste to see - My 'Edgar' that made _you_ so ill; - And so they'll keep it in the bill - Since that advertisement from thee." - - * * * * * - - Shall it not be scorn for me to harp upon this mouldy thing? - For surely in a week or two it will have taken wing. - - "Weakness to be wroth with weakness"--that this play is weak, 'tis - plain. - I have seen much better dramas founded by a shallower brain. - From the programme of the Globe, then, sweep this foolish thing away. - Better fifty Meritt-mixtures than this sickly, stupid play! - - CARADOS. - -_The Referee_, November 19, 1882. - - * * * * * - - -A DREAM OF GREAT PLAYERS. - - I read one night, while lying on the down, - In L. T. Annual[11] of the current year-- - Tho' unpretending volume, bound in brown-- - Great deeds recorded were. - - At length, methought that I had wandered far - Through the long path that runs beside the line, - And found myself before the entrance-door, - And knew I was in time. - - I knew the stands, I knew the nets, I knew - The smooth, green level of the well-rolled lawn, - And thought, "Here many an athlete anxious grew, - Dreading the fateful dawn." - - A voice from out the ticket-office came-- - From overworked collector in his prime-- - "Pass quickly through, the seats are all thine own - Until the end of time." - - Close by a player, leaning on the rail, - Clasping a racket, Tate-made, in his hand-- - A champion among men, who made me hail, - And led me to the stand. - - His cigarette from out his mouth he drew: - Blew out white clouds, then said, with courteous smile-- - "Hast come to see great players? Good! Then you - Had best stay here awhile. - - "I am the champion! ask thou not my name; - Not to know me argues thyself unknown. - Many played here, and fell; whene'er I came - All men were overthrown." - - "No marvel," I made answer; "In fair field - Myself before such skill had doubtless quail'd, - As all men must." Then, turning, I appealed - To one who merely wailed-- - - As he with forced perpetual smile averse, - To his full height his stately figure draws-- - "My youth," he said, "is blighted with a curse-- - This stripling is the cause. - - "For seven years The Cup I strove to win, - But ever, when it seemed within my grip, - He, rising o'er all others, entered in, - And dashed it from my lip." - - His words of grief fell idly on my ear, - As thunderdrops fall on a sleeping sea. - Sudden I heard a voice that cried--"Come here, - That you may look on me. - - "I am ex-champion, now three years displaced, - And since that time I find it very slow; - I have no _men_ to conquer in this waste, - I war with fairer foe." - - He paused in gloom, and towards the others faced, - To whom the Smiler--"Oh! you tamely died; - You should have stood well to the back, and placed - The ball along the side." - - "Alas! alas!" a low voice, full of care, - Murmured beside me--"Champion I might be, - But for this injured member which I bear - I had gained victory." - - I gazed upon him, then became aware - Of some one coming hastily in wrath, - Reminding his twin-brother--"We're the pair - Chosen to play the North. - - "_Do_ hurry up, our foes await us there; - The stem, black-bearded form, the referee, - Ejaculating, as he tears his hair, - 'Where can the players be?'" - - Then seized his arm, and drew him from the spot. - I, feeling tired and thirsty, strolled away; - The day becoming most extremely hot, - I cared to see no play. - - _Pastime_, February 13, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. - - Listen to the doleful story - Of a juvenile M.P., - He was but a voting Tory, - And a farmer's daughter she. - - Spake he in his wisest manner - (Whereat people often smiled), - "You must give up your piano, - You are but a farmer's child. - - "Straight forget each foreign tongue, dear, - And, to further my desire, - All the songs you ever sang, dear-- - For a tenant is your sire." - - So she sells her dear piano; - With the cash her bargain yields - Buys she Gibbs's best guano, - Which she scatters o'er the fields. - - Then forgets each well-bred accent, - Foreign, native, just the same, - All her modern books are back sent - To the stores from whence they came. - - Then he marries her and makes her - Thus a lady of renown, - And with condescension takes her - To his house by Stamford town. - - From the gate his crest depended, - Which the owner's breeding shows; - Hand with fingers wide extended - Stretching from a lordly nose. - - Waves the flippant owner's pennant - O'er the keep's embattled brow, - Though her sire was but a tenant - She is Lady Burleigh now. - - Long she lived in stately manner - 'Mid the highborn and the grand, - But she pined for her piano - Scattered on the teeming land. - - Then she grew and ever thinner, - And she murmured, "O that he, - At that agricultural dinner, - Had not ever counselled me." - - So she drooped and drooped before him, - And at last, with anguish bent, - To his freedom did restore him, - Following her dear instrument. - - He survived in state and bounty, - Lord of Burleigh, young and free, - Not a lord in all the county - Was so great a fool as he. - - CECIL. - -_The Kettering Observer_, March 21, 1884. - -When Lord Burghley, M.P. (son of the Marquis of Exeter), took the -English farmers to task for allowing their daughters to play the piano, -and to learn a few of the polite little accomplishments of the day, -his remarks were generally resented as impertinent, and his name lent -itself irresistibly to the ridicule contained in the preceding parody of -Tennyson's "Lord of Burleigh." Inasmuch as Tennyson's poem was founded on -incidents connected with the courtship and marriage of the first Marquis -of Exeter, to Sarah Hoggins, the daughter of a small yeoman farmer at -Bolas Magna, in Shropshire. The marriage took place in October, 1791, and -the lady died in January, 1797, leaving two sons, of whom the elder became -the second Marquis of Exeter, and was the grandfather of the Lord Burghley -above referred to. - - * * * * * - - -THE FAITHLESS PEELER. - - Skulking slily down the area, - He to her his mind doth tell-- - "I feel somewhat dry, my Mary, - And some beer would be as well." - She replies, by way of feeler, - "La, who'd thought of seeing thee?" - He is but a smart young peeler, - And a maid-of all-work she. - - He to lips that do not falter, - Raises up the half-pint mug; - Vows his love will never alter-- - Eyeing hard the empty jug. - "I can pick that bone of pheasant, - Little care I for a knife-- - Love, it makes our duty pleasant, - Luncheon love I dear as life." - - He across the kitchen going, - Sees two lordly bottles stand; - "India pale" within them glowing, - And he grasps one in each hand. - From deep thought himself he rouses, - Says to her that loves him well, - "I could pop these in my trousers' - Pocket, and no one might tell." - - This he doth by her attended, - And they lovingly converse - Of the toothsome things that tended - To bind so close his heart to hers. - Leg of pork, with sauce of apple, - Fowl and bacon and broad beans; - cold roast beef, with which he'd grapple, - Sooner than with warmed-up greens. - - What she gives him makes her dearer, - Such she hopes to be the case; - Hopes his beat will still be near her, - Should she ever change her place. - Oh! but he doth love her truly; - He shall have a cup of tea-- - She will bring it to him duly, - Some time after half-past three. - - And her heart rejoices greatly, - Whenever peeler she discerns, - Past the small boys pacing stately, - While they mimic him by turns. - Thinks he looks far more majestic - Than he ever looked before-- - Fears he winked at the domestic - Higher up at Number Four; - - Hears him speak in gentle murmur, - Knows he's answering her call, - While he treads with footstep firmer, - Leading past the garden wall. - All at once the colour flushes - His false face from brow to chin; - As it were with shame he blushes, - While she vows she's "been took in." - - Then unable to conceal her - Love, she murmurs, "Oh, that he - Were once more that faithful Peeler, - Which did win my heart from me." - He but begged she'd no more bore him, - When she falls flat at his side; - Gathered soon a crowd before him, - Whilst to lift her up he tried; - - And one came to raise her bonnet, - And he looked at him and said, - "Bring a chair, and place her on it, - For I fear she's hurt her head." - Home they took her, and next morning, - By her mistress she's addressed, - "Mary, you have a month's warning-- - This time, mind. I'm not in jest. - - _The Puppet Show_, July 29, 1848. - - * * * * * - - -THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. - -(_Slightly altered from the Poet Laureate_). - - To the Bill he whispers gaily, - "Land Bill, I the truth must tell-- - You're a nuisance; but believe me - That I really love you well!" - She replies, that Irish Maiden, - "No one I respect like thee." - He is Lord of ancient Hatfield, - And a simple Land Bill she. - So most kindly he receives her - Merely with _two_ hours' reproof, - Leads her to the Lords' Committee, - And she leaves her GLADSTONE'S roof. - - "I will strive to guard and guide you, - And your beauty not impair; - Only add a few amendments, - Prune a section here and there. - Let us try these little clauses - Which the wealthy Lords suggest; - No connection with FITZMAURICE, - Or with HENEAGE and the rest!" - All he tells her makes her queerer, - Evermore she seems to yearn - For her Commons and her GLADSTONE, - And the moment of return. - And while now she wonders wildly - Why she feels inclined to sink, - Proudly turns the Lord of BURLEIGH, - "I have _drawn your teeth_, I think!" - - Then her countenance all over - Pale and (emerald) green appears, - As he kicks her down the staircase, - 'Mid their Lordships' wicked jeers. - But her GLADSTONE looked upon her, - Lying lifeless, worn, and spent, - And he said, "Your dress is ragged-- - These must be arrears of _rent_." - Deeply mourns the Lord of BURLEIGH, - No one more distressed than he, - When the PREMIER moved the Commons - With the Peers to disagree. - And they gathered softly round her, - Did the Commons, and they said, - "Bring the dress we sent her forth in-- - _That_ will raise her from the dead!" - - _Punch_, August 13, 1881. - -_The Figaro_ of January 22, 1873, contained a long parody (eleven verses), -entitled, "The Lord of Burleigh," but it is not now of sufficient interest -to warrant its reproduction. - - * * * * * - - -A BURLINGTON HOUSE BALLAD. - -(_With Apologies to Our Lordly Laureate_). - - In her ear he whispers sadly, - "I've a grief upon my soul, - And I want you very badly - Just to take a little stroll." - She replies, in accents fainter, - "Anywhere, my love, with thee." - He is but a budding painter, - And his fair _fiancée_ she. - To her chamber straight she scurries, - Lest delay should bring reproof, - Pops her bonnet on and hurries - With him from her father's roof. - So she goes, by him attended, - Hears him absently converse, - As with spirits all unmended - He controls his steps to hers. - Faring thus, she wonders greatly, - Till a gateway she discerns - With armorial bearings stately, - And beneath the gate she turns. - Sees a building most majestic - In a simple maiden's eye; - Pays he then a smug domestic, - And the turnstile clicks them by. - All around are paint and glitter - High and low upon the wall, - While he treads with feelings bitter, - Leading on from hall to hall. - And as now she freely utters - Rapture it were vain to hide, - Fiercely turns he round and mutters, - "_There's my picture--it is 'skyed!_'" - - _Funny Folks_, May, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE MAY QUEEN OF 1879, - -AS SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. - - Well, you waked and call'd me early on the first, my mother dear, - As though't had been the jolliest time of all the glad new year, - For as you were aware, mother, in spite the wretched day, - I had to be Queen o' the May, mother, I had to be Queen o' the May. - - You did your best for me, mother, I must say that of you; - You had my waterproof prepared, and my goloshes too; - You lent me your own muff, mother, my chilblains were so sore, - And made dear Robin bring the cover'd cart close to our door. - - And yet the May-day games, mother, were not a great success; - And I, for I was Queen, alack!--got in the greatest mess; - The mud was over all our boots--it hail'd, too, as it chanced, - And I fell in a puddle, mother, while I with Robin danced. - -(_Five verses omitted_). - - "So, on the whole, I cannot say I'm glad--no more can you, - You call'd me early on the first, though then I begg'd you to; - In truth, could I have known, it would have been so cold and wet, - I'd have told the lads and lasses, mother, another Queen to get. - - "But, there, it is too late to fret--the thing is over now, - But not again will your poor child thus play the fool, I vow; - Another year, if spring is late, I'll stay in bed all day, - Rather than get up early, mother, and be the Queen o' the May." - - _Truth_, May 22, 1879. - - * * * * * - - You ask me why, tho' ill at ease, - Within this region I subsist, - Whose spirits falter in the mist, - And languish for the purple seas? - - * * * * * - - TENNYSON. - - * * * * * - - -THE NEW UMBRELLA. - - You ask me why, though ill at ease, - And chilled with rain, my gentle Stella, - I stand beneath the dripping trees, - With shivering hands and shaking knees, - But do not use my umbrella. - - The reason I can soon explain, - Succinctly, simply, and precisely: - If once I used it in the rain, - I could not fold it up again, - Or roll it up so smooth and nicely. - - No, precious slender staff! no hand of mine, - With ruthless hate or foolish gaming, - Shall mar thy symmetry divine-- - The curved diagonal of line - That circles round thy wooden stamen. - - The skill that wrapped thee up so tight - And fastened up the ring and button - Is rarer far than second-sight, - The art of catching fish at night, - Or carving any joint of mutton. - - * * * * * - - (Two verses omitted). - - _The Cambridge Meteor_, June 13, 1882. - - * * * * * - - "OF old sat Freedom on the heights, - The Thunders breaking at her feet: - Above her shook the starry lights: - She heard the torrents meet." - - * * * * * - - TENNYSON. - - * * * * * - - -PAM UPON THE HEIGHTS. - -[Lord Palmerston was appointed Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, March, -1861]. - - NOT old, stood Pam upon the Heights, - The Commons roaring at his feet, - And Beadledom, with antique rites, - Did him the homage meet. - - _Punch_, in his place did much rejoice, - Not for the title then assigned, - But glad to hear the brave old boy's - Name shouted on the wind. - - Admiring much his British pluck, - His ready tongue, his cheery jest, - His never downing on his luck, - But hoping for the best. - - His hate of humbug, saving such - As should to humbugs still be flung, - His speeches, void of artist touch, - Yet suiting English tongue. - - His deeper hatred for the gang, - Who, prating of some Right Divine, - Doom freedom's friends to starve, or hang, - Or in foul dungeons pine. - - Cheer for the Constable! Our foes - Find him the nightmare of their dreams; - We, the wise Englishman, who knows - The Falsehood of Extremes. - - _Punch_, 1861. - - * * * * * - - -LORD BEACONSFIELD AS TITHONUS. - - THE Whigs decay, the Whigs decay, and fall, - The Obstructives drag our Senate through the mire; - Parliaments cumber earth, then pass away; - E'en this one, after many a session, dies; - While I, secure of immortality, - Take my calm saunter, propped by Monty's arm, - Along the highways of the busy world, - A noted figure, roaming, in my dream, - All sorts of places in my Favourite East, - The gleaming halls and splendours of Lothair. - Alas for that grand piece of statesmanship, - That glorious work, the Berlin settlement! - So highly lauded by my chosen print - The _Daily Telegraph_. Almost I seemed - To its great heart none other than a god! - Bulgaria asked for independency; - 'Twas granted with a few strokes of the pen. - Some people really don't care what they grant. - But the strong Russ, indignant, worked his will, - Pared down and minimised my settlement; - And though he could not end it, left it maimed, - The veriest of hashes. Can fine words - From Salisbury make amends? Though even yet - Our faithful organs in the daily press - Are tremulous with praise, weep tears of joy - To hear us. Come, let's go; we've had enough - Of Government. How can a man desire - To mix with Irish members, rowdy lot, - Who never mind the ruling of the Chair, - But pass beyond the Speaker's ordinance, - Which all obey--or ought to, if they don't? - - A black cloud hovers o'er the Cape: there come - Glimpses of dark men we have made our foes. - Once more I hear the rumour steal abroad - Of an election-time approaching near; - And who can tell the upshot? Will the rout - Whom I enfranchised not so long ago - Shake off the yoke of Tory Government, - And bring the Liberals in instead? Who knows? - - Fain would I get me to the gorgeous East! - I wonder how my constitution stands - The rigours of this chilly English clime, - This so-called summer, wretched, cold, and wet. - I shiver by the fireside, while the steam - Floats from the damp fields round my country seat, - And racks my agèd bones with rheumatism. - Place me upon some Asiatic throne, - Give me an empire in the realms of morn, - Thither I'd hasten from this _bourgeois_ court - On a triumphal car with silver wheels. - - V. A. C. A. - -_The World_, July 30, 1879. - - * * * * * - - -WHAT LOCKSLEY HALL SAID BEFORE HE PASSED HIS OXFORD RESPONSIONS, - -(_Vulgo_ SMALLS). - - OH the misery of "Smalls!" the cark, the turmoil, and the grind! - Oh the cruel, cruel fetters which are wreathing round my mind! - There is grammar, there is _Euclid_, and far worse than all of these, - Arithmetical refinements, with their stocks, and rules of threes, - With their discount and their practice, and their very vulgar - fractions, - Smashing up the one ideal into many paltry factions. - Square root makes the head to ache, the decimals the tear to start, - For they're ever circulating round the fibres of my heart-- - Learning grammar is like putting water in a leaky pot, - And its memory is only like the days remembered not; - Verbs in "M I" are aggravating, _Euclid_ makes the foot to stamp, - Only lucid when enlightened by a moderator lamp, - The old spider and his cobwebs! would that I could sweep them out - From the dust and must of ages with a triumph and a shout; - Shall I spurn him with my foot, or shall I scorn him with mine eye? - Shall I tear him into pieces? SOUTHEY burnt him--so will I. - - C. C. - -B. N. C. _College Rhymes_, 1861. - -These lines also appeared in _Punch_. - -There was also an early parody of "Locksley Hall" in _Punch_, describing -the Railway Mania of 1845. This parody was rather technical in its -language, not very amusing, and is now quite out of date. - - * * * * * - - -BATTUE SHOOTING. - - Gather round, my noble comrades; hardy sportsmen, gather where, - Placed in yonder shaded corner, stands for each an easy chair; - Close behind are well-packed hampers, and attendants duly wait - To reload your deadly weapons while you sit and shoot in state. - Amply fed and reared, my pheasants--tame they'll answer to your call, - But, like whirling leaves in winter, soon you'll see them thickly fall. - Hark, the beaters drive them forward. Now, prepare--the time is nigh, - We shall soon reduce their numbers. Peste! they're far too fat to fly! - See the startled hares and rabbits vainly shelter safe have sought, - Headlong rushing, mad with terror--surely this is noble sport! - Eh! what say you? Let go at them, now's the time to try your skill; - Crawling wounded, lame and fluttering, down they go the bag to fill. - Warmish work, and quite fatiguing--let's refresh ere we renew. - Vulgar hinds may sneer and welcome. Vive, say I, the good battue! - - * * * * * - - Surely those who so love slaughter might, when close time comes - for grouse, - Find congenial occupation if they donned the butcher's blouse. - - D. EVANS. - -_The Weekly Dispatch_, August 31, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -GODIVA. - -(_A Pose Plastique_, by Madame Warton, _before_ the forthcoming picture by -Edwin Landseer, R.A.) - - -OR, THE PEEPING GENT OF COVENTRY STREET. - - _I waited in the street named Coventry; - I hung outside the 'bus from Putney Bridge, - To watch the three short fares; and there I shaped - The last new "Tableau Vivant" into this._ - - NOT only we, the smartest blades on Town, - Fast men that with the speed of an express - Run down the slow, not only we, that prate - Of gents and snobs, have loved the genus well, - And loathed to see them unamused; but she - Did more, and undertook, and overcame, - The Venus of the _Tableaux Vivans_--Madame - Warton, Queen of the Walhalla, near the street - Of Coventry: for when there was nought up - To take the Town, the Gents all came to her, - Clamouring, "If this last, we die of slowness!" - She sought a painter, found him where he strode - About the room, among his dogs, alone, - His beard shaved close before him, and his hair - Cropped short behind. She told him the Gents' fears, - And prayed him, "If this last, they die of slowness!" - Whereat he stared, replying, half-amazed, - "What would you have _me_ do--an animal painter-- - For such as _these?_" "A _Tableau_ paint," said she. - He laughed, and talked about Sir Peter Laurie.[12] - - Then chucked her playfully beneath the chin; - "O, ay, ay, ay, you talk!" "Talk! yes!" she said. - "But paint it, and prove what I will not do." - And with a sly wink there was no mistaking, - He answered, "Ride you as the famed Godiva," - And I will paint it," she nodded, and in jest - They parted, and a cabman drove her home. - - All was arranged. The boardmen in the street, - As curs about a bone, with snarl and blow - Made war upon each other for a board: - The best man won. She sent bill-stickers forth, - And bade them cover over every hoarding - With large placards, announcing she would please - Her favourite gents; who, as they loved her well, - From then till Monday next, in crowds should come - And gaze at her,--each one his shilling paying - For seats within the public promenade. - - Then went she to her dressing room, and there - Unhooked the wedded fastenings of her gown, - Some soft one's gift; but every now and then - She lingered, looking in her toilette glass, - Rougeing her cheek: anon she shook herself, - And showered the rumpled raiment 'neath her knee; - Then clad herself in silk; adown the stair - Stole on; and like a bashful maiden slid - Through passage and through passage, until she reached - The platform; there she found her palfrey trapt - With pewter logies and mosaic gold. - - Then rode she forth, clothed all in silken tights: - The fiddles played beneath her as she rode, - And the reserved seats hardly breathed for fear. - The little wide-mouthed heads beyond the stalls - Had cunning eyes to see: the crimson rouge - Made her cheek flame: a fast man, winking, shot - Light horrors through her pulses: the saloon - Was all in darkness; though from overhead - The flickering gas-light dimly flared: but she - Not less through all bore up, till, last she gave - The signal to the workmen in the flats, - And round upon the pivot slow she turned. - - Then rode she back, clothed all in silken tights: - And one low Gent, decked out in Joinville tie, - The certain symbol of a Gentish taste, - Using an ivory opera-glass he'd hired, - Peeped--but the glasses, ere he had his fill, - Were shivered into pieces, and the curtain - Was dropt before him; so that the deposit - Left on the glass was forfeit to the Jew; - And he that knew it grieved: Now all at once, - With twelve great shocks of sound, the interlude - Was scraped on cat-gut from a dozen fiddles, - One after one, for neither did keep time, - Nor play in tune: and Madame Warton gained - Her chamber; whence re-issuing, as "Venus - Rising from the Sea," the ennui passed away, - And she made everlasting lots of tin. - - _The Puppet Show_, April 1, 1848. - - * * * * * - - -THE VOYAGE. - - We hired a ship: we heaved a shout: - We turned her head towards the sea; - We laugh'd and scull'd, and baled her out, - We scream'd and whistled loud for glee: - We scull'd, we scream'd, we laugh'd, we sang, - Beneath the merry stars of June: - Went flute tu-tu, and banjo bang: - We meant to sail into the moon! - - Far off a boatman hail'd us high: - "My boat is named the Bonny Bess; - Old Jack will charge you more than I, - For I will charge you sixpence less: - My boat is strong, and swift, and taut, - But Jack's--she is not worth a cuss." - We held his terms in scorn, for what - Was sixpence or a crown to us? - - We bang'd; we baled; we scull'd; we scream'd; - The water gain'd upon us fast. - We looked upon the moon: she seem'd - As far as when we saw her last. - We look'd: no terror did we show; - We did not care a button, we; - We knew the good ship could not go - _Beyond_ the bottom of the sea. - - But one--at best he was a lout-- - The same, we guess, was short of chink-- - Exclaim'd in terror, "Let me out, - I am quite sure the ship will sink. - The leak is quickly gaining height; - 'Twill soon be half-way up the mast." - And through the hatch that starry night - We let him out, and on we pass'd. - - Slight skiffs aslant the starboard slipt, - And jet-black coal-boats, stoled in state, - And slender shallops, silvern tipp'd, - And other craft both small and great. - But we nor changed to skiff or barge, - Or slender shallops, silvern-peak'd; - We knew no vessel, small or large, - Was built by mortal hands, but leak'd. - - Beyond the blank horizon burn'd; - The moon had slid below the main; - About the bows we sharply turn'd, - And scull'd the good ship home again. - Before us gleam'd the hazy dawn; - We scull'd, but ere we shockt the lea, - And paid old Jack, the ship had gone - Down to the bottom of the sea. - - Above the wreck the sad sea breaks, - And many a pitying moonlight streams; - And o'er the yeasty water flakes - The snow-white sea-gull, sliding screams. - If any goods be wash'd ashore, - Or cash--if any cash be found-- - To us, and not to Jack, restore: - But then--you cannot; we were drowned. - - S. K. C. - -_Kottabos_ (William McGee), Dublin, 1875. - - * * * * * - - "Break, break, break, - On thy cold gray stones, O sea! - And I would that my tongue could utter - The thoughts that arise in me." - - * * * * * - - TENNYSON. - -It seems hard to believe that the weather was even hotter in New York -during last June than it was in London during certain days of July and -August. An American poet thus records his impressions:-- - - Hot, hot, hot, - Is the blistering breath of June, - And I would that my throat could utter - An anti-torridness tune. - O well for the Esquimau - That he sits on a cake of ice! - O well for the Polar bear - That he looks so cool and nice! - But the scorching heats pours down - And blisters both head and feet! - And O for a touch of vanished frost, - Or the sound of some hail and sleet! - - * * * * * - - -THE LAY OF THE DRENCHED ONE. - -(_Time_, 11.45 P.M.) - - Pelt, pelt, pelt, - On the cold wet earth, thou Rain! - While my tongue is about to utter - The anger that swells in my brain. - - Oh, well for the waterproof'd gent, - As he walks in his shiny array: - Oh, well for the dandified swell, - As he drives in his cabriolet. - - And the last lone 'bus rolls on, - As full as its guard can fill; - But oh for the sight of a vanish'd cab, - And the sound of a wheel that's still! - - Pelt, pelt, pelt, - On the damp, drench'd streets, O Rain; - But the tender bloom of a dress-coat spoilt - Will never return again. - - JOHN COLLETT. - -"But, says the _Sporting Times_, Calcutta is a rough place for a -'stony-broke,' for there is no comfortable workhouse for Europeans, such -as would remind one of Tennyson's well-known 'Workhouse Song.'"-- - - "Break, break, break, - All these cursed stones I see, - For that is the task they've set me, - And _I wish that I wasn't me_." - - * * * * * - - Wake! wake! wake! - In thy Northern land so free, - And our eloquent leader utters - A protest for you and me. - - Oh, well for Midlothian's sons - That they shout with him in the fray, - Oh, well for our British lads, - For we know he will gain us the day. - - And the Franchise war goes on, - Though the Lords would have us be still; - But, O for our triumph, thou Grand Old Man, - When the people have their bill. - - Wake! wake! wake! - To the war-cry of "Liberty!" - And slav'ry's old despotic days - Shall never return to thee. - - RICHARD H. W. YEABSLEY. - -_The Weekly Dispatch_, September 14, 1884. (Parody Competition). - - * * * * * - - -RHYME FOR ROGERS. - - Howe'er it be, it seems to me - A House of Peers can be no good: - Mob caps are more than coronets, - And Hyde Park crowds than Hatfield's brood. - - _Punch_, September 6, 1884. - - * * * * * - -Tennyson's "Enoch Arden" has been less frequently parodied than most of -his poems; some years ago the Australian Punch had a clever burlesque of -it, and a "continuation" of Enoch Arden was privately printed in 1866. -This very scarce little pamphlet consisted of twelve pages, in a blue -wrapper, and had no printer's name or place on it. As it is now eagerly -sought after by collectors of Tennysoniana, it is here given in full:-- - - -ENOCH ARDEN, - -(CONTINUED) - -BY - -C. H. P. - - Not by the "LAUREAT,"--but a timid hand - That grasped the Poet's golden lyre, "and back - Recoil'd,--e'en at the sound herself had made." - -1866. - - -ENOCH ARDEN - -(_Continued_). - - So Enoch died, as he had lived so long. - Alone--alone! for Miriam Lane had pass'd - To an adjoining chamber; but she heard - Those joyous dying words, "A sail! a sail! - I'm sav'd," and hurried back to comfort him; - But wist not that the "sail" his spirit saw - Was God's own ark, propell'd by angel wings - Towards the Ocean of Eternity. - "Ah well!" she said; "poor Enoch! he is gone; - God rest his soul: give him more joy in Heaven - Than he had found on earth,--at least of late: - I thought he had not long to linger here, - The sea made such a moaning all the night: - It sounded like his death-wail; and methought - I saw the corpse-light dancing in the fen. - Now will I tell the neighbours who he was: - They'll wonder how Dame Miriam knew the truth, - But kept it close, because she loved her friend - Enoch:--they cannot call me gossip now." - It chanced that day, that Philip left his mill - Earlier than wont: the nutting-time was come,-- - That season of the year so closely link'd - To Philip's destiny;--it seem'd to stir - His pulse to quicker beat, and send a thrill - Of strange mysterious feeling thro' his veins. - He knew not how, or why: but Philip hurried on - That he might keep the promised holiday - With all the children--his, and hers, and theirs-- - All dear to him; nor least the bonny Ralph, - That last wee prattler, climbing to his knee. - And all were ready with their nutting crooks; - And Annie Ray, his own, his wife at last,-- - His "beam of sunshine," as he called her oft. - But as he left his mill, the passing-bell, - With its first startling boom, tolled on his ear. - It is a sound that enters at the brain, - A saddening augury of woe, and strikes - The inmost chord of sympathising hearts - That fondly breathe an echoing sigh of pain. - Sudden it falls, chilly as winter's frost, - Turning to icicles the heart's warm blood. - Spoke Philip to the comrade at his side, - "Know you for whom that passing-bell is struck? - Some full-grown man: it is the minute-toll." - "Mayhap the stranger down at Miriam Lane's; - I heard that he was dying yester-e'en. - The tide has turn'd but now: 'tis running out; - Whoe'er he was, his soul upon the shore - Waited the ebbing tide to ebb away." - Then came they to a little knot of men - (Fishers in dark-blue knitted woollen vests) - Hard by "the idle corner,"--so 'twas called,-- - The blacksmith's forge. The honest gossippers, - As Philip pass'd along, hushed their voices. - Could he have read their looks, he might have known - Some dark o'er-clouding sorrow was at hand, - More nigh than he could think for, and more hard. - Then passed a woman from the ale-house door, - And, all unwitting Philip was so near, - Cried, "Have you heard who died just now? - 'Twas Enoch Arden,--lost, but late returned; - And Miriam Lane has known it all along!" - As if some hand had struck a sudden blow, - Philip seemed stunned: the blood forsook his cheek, - The big cold drops stood out upon his brow, - As on the victim's, stretched upon the rack. - His comrade laid his hand on Philip's arm, - And uttering no word (what could he say?) - Led him, as one half-blinded, step by step, - Until they reached the home, where Annie Ray, - Poor widow-wife, sat watching his return; - He stagger'd towards her, caught her in his arms: - God help me,--kiss me darling,--wife look up! - "My wife--his wife--I know not what I say: - If we did sin it was unwittingly; - O, Annie! darling, one more fond embrace, - E'er it be said our wedded love was wrong." - Then, as she wonder'd, gazing on his face, - And twined her loving arms around, he told,-- - Yes, told her all--how Enoch had returned. - Then Philip's comrade, who had linger'd near, - Beckon'd the children out, and closed the door: - There Miriam met them, with the lock of hair: - But, loth to interrupt the sorrowers, - She led the children to the house of death; - And took a key from off the wooden peg, - Beside the settle, where she used to hang - The skeins of twine to mend the fishing nets: - Then gently led them up the narrow stair, - That creaked beneath their stealthy-moving tread. - Sacred the silence that we ever keep, - When death is in the house! we speak, we walk, - With muffled tone and step, as if the dead - Could be disturb'd, and waken out of sleep. - Then Miriam turn'd the key;--that jarring click! - How harsh it grated on the children's ear! - As do the pebbles on the boat's sharp keel. - Cold thro' the open casement came the breeze: - There stood the bed--and on the sacking lay, - Distinct beneath the sheet, a rigid form-- - The feet so prominent, the arms close down!-- - The children clung together, half afraid, - While Miriam turned the coverlid aside. - They dar'd not stoop to kiss the pallid face; - But gaz'd awhile, then slowly left the room. - Once they had seen their brother, as he lay - Dead in his little cot: but he had look'd - So beautiful asleep, you might have thought - Death's angel had but gently turned him round, - To rest more quietly: the tiny hands - Were clasp'd together, and the face bent down, - As resting on the pillow--not like this,-- - So stiff, so cold, so utterly alone. - Now, as the twilight fell the second day, - Another mourner came: she spoke no word: - Miriam had put the key within her hand, - Turning aside, to dash away her tears: - The widowed woman went up-stairs alone. - One moment gazing on her Enoch's face, - She stoop'd to kiss it, putting back the hair, - As she had done in life: then kneeling down - She pray'd,--"forgive me,--pity me,--Oh God." - She touch'd his marble-cold, pale, hand with hers, - That bore e'en then the double wedding rings. - She laid her aching head upon his breast,-- - When from her lips came forth a cry,--a shriek, - Like to a hare's when shot: and Miriam came, - And bore her senseless from the room of death. - 'Twas strange how quick the widow's glance had caught - Each little circumstance of the chamber, - And noted in her loving memory,-- - How on the table lay his Bible--closed: - No need had Enoch now of Holy Writ, - No need of Gospel Message; for he stood - In presence of his SAVIOUR, and his GOD. - But had she open'd where the much-worn page - Told of the frequent reading, she had seen - The marks of blistering tears upon that text, - "Whose shall she be in Heav'n? there they marry - Not, nor give in marriage, but are angels." - There was a fly upon the window pane - Whose low monotonous hum she scarcely heard, - And that unconscious; but in after years - The buzzing of a summer fly recall'd, - E'en in her happiest hours, _that_ day, - That lonely visit to the bed of death; - And cast a moment's shadow o'er her heart. - More keenly she remarked the remnant store - Of lulling anodynes: ah! bootless all - To soothe the fever of his aching brain: - The Wise Physician healed him with a touch, - (E'en as we lay our hand on ringing glass - To still the sound that careless fingers make), - And sent a loving angel as his guide - Through the dark valley to the realms of joy. - There lay his watch, his big round silver watch, - Whose constant tick had sadly echoed "Home" - In all his wanderings; now its pulse was hushed: - No need of Time for him: he had Eternity. - - * * * * * - - Then Philip left the village for awhile: - And when once more the nutting-season came, - And yellow "rust-spots" on the autumn leaves, - He and his Annie were again at home! - They'd learnt the lesson God had set them, "Wait:" - And now the time of their reward was come: - In _Faith's_ strong soil _Patience_ had taken root, - And brought forth _Hope_ and _Joy_, as bloom and fruit. - - * * * * * - - -ENOCH'S "HARD 'UN." - -PART I. - - In a fair village on the English coast - There dwelt a lad--they called him Hunky Sam. - He was but young--three years, or may be four, - But manly for his age; his appetite - For bulls'-eyes, "coker"-nuts, and such light fare - Was something awful, even for a boy; - But better far than even coker-nuts, - He loved a maiden of surpassing grace-- - Of humble parentage, but very fair, - Whose name euphonious was Susan Ann. - The parents of these twain were fisher-folk - Of low degree, but honest to a fault. - They would not steal the veriest pin, unless - They were quite certain they would not be caught. - Now Hunky's love for peerless Susan Ann - Was felt by her, and given back to Hunk; - And as the twain upon the yellow sands - Would play, young Sam would say, "Now let us be, - As grown-up folks, and we'll pretend we are - A wedded pair, and I will be a man, - And you, dear Susan Ann, my little wife; - And you, go sit within yon gloomy cave, - Which we will make believe to be our house, - And I'll come staggering in like daddy does, - And you can belt me on my flaxen head - With this small stick, which we will call a broom-- - For that's the way my dad and mammy do." - And so they played upon the seashore sand - Till Susan Ann had got the thing down fine. - And time sped on, and Sam and Susan Ann - Were married, and the twain became one flesh. - - -PART II. - - Sam went to sea, and whilst upon a voyage, - He read of Enoch Arden and his woes; - And so he soon resolved to do the same - As in the book he read that Enoch did. - To carry out his plan he sent word home, - By trusty shipmate, to his Susan Ann, - That he was drowned. He really did not care - A great deal for his once-loved Susan Ann, - Who, when the knot had but been tied a year, - Had clearly showed that she could be the boss. - So time sped on, and artful Hunky Sam - In foreign climates had a jolly time - For several years. "I think I'll homeward sail," - One day he said, "and see how Susan Ann - Gets on; like Enoch, I will softly glide - Towards the cottage there upon the cliff, - And see how she makes out with her new man, - For she is doubtless wedded once again, - Just like that Mrs. Arden in the book." - Away he sailed across the sounding surge - (A good expression that, but not my own), - And soon he reached his village on the coast. - 'Twas night. He crept towards the little cot - Where once he'd dwelt. A light was burning clear; - He peered in through the window. Susan Ann - Was there, but t'other fellow was away. - His wife glanced up: she saw the faithless Sam; - She sprang towards him--grabbed him by the hair - And held him there, whilst with her other arm - She dealt him myriad thwacks with broomstick stout. - "You would," she cried--"you would say you were dead, - And with your foreign gals go cuttin' up; - And leave me here to take in washing--eh? - You wretch! take that, and that, and that, and that!" - Each "that" being followed by a sickening thud. - - -PART III. - - The curtain falls on this delightful scene, - As space is precious and will not permit - Of further details; but this goes to show - That things don't always turn out just the same - As those we read about in poets' yarns. - Another thing it shows--that Susan Ann - Had learned a trick when playing at being wed - Upon the seashore in her youthful days - That stood her in good stead in after years-- - The wielding of the broomstick here is meant. - - _Scraps_, August 1884. - - * * * * * - - -AFTER TENNYSON'S "GRANDMOTHER." - - And Willy, with Franchise horn, is gone to blow in the North! - Sturdy, though white, and strong on his legs, bravely holding forth; - And Willy's wife is with him--she ever was true and wise, - Always a wife for Willy--he often takes her advice. - - For madame, you see, is clever; she loves her Franchise Bill, - And he can talk so ready, and manage the Scots with skill. - Pretty enough, very pretty! I won't say against it for one. - Eh! but my Lords shall fear him--when Willy his task has done. - - Willy, my beauty, my chieftain true, the flower of the flock, - Never a lord can move him, for Willy stands like a rock. - He has always a word for the weak, for crofter and fellaheen too; - There ne'er was his like in the land, since Eighteen-thirty-two. - - Strong for the right, and strong in the fight, strong still in his - tongue; - And peers shall go down before him, though the "feller" is not young. - Welcome him back, my brothers, from the North land far away, - Soon shall we liberty see, brothers, when Willy has won the day. - - JAMES G. MEAGHER. - -_The Weekly Dispatch_, September 14, 1884. - -(Parody Competition). - - * * * * * - - -KEEPING TERM AFTER COMMEMORATION. - -(_Not by_ A.--T., Esq.) - - I steal by lawns, to check the train - Of meditations started - By seeing duns that come in vain - For happy men departed. - - By empty rooms I hurry down, - So stumbling down the staircase; - The cads within the sleepy town - Think mine a very rare case. - - I hail a boat, and down I row - Along the lonely river, - For other lucky men may go, - But I seem here for ever. - - I murmur under moon and stars, - I feel in lunar phrenzy, - I chide the cursèd fate that bars - My exit from B. N. C. - - I slope, I slouch, I speed, I stop, - And scan the empty High Street, - I turn me into Boffin's shop, - To cheer me with an ice-treat, - - Till ice and sad reflection slow - My diaphragm make quiver, - For other lucky men may go, - But I seem here for ever. - - I roam about, and in and out - Poke eyes with envy yellow, - And here and there I spy a scout, - And here and there a fellow. - - And here and there a good mamma, - Her squalling baby nursing, - Looks on me pitying, with an "Ah, - Poor fellow, how he's cursing!" - - For, sailor like, I storm and "blow - My eyes" and "timbers shiver," - That other lucky men may go, - But I seem here for ever. - - BRASENOSE COLLEGE, Oxford. - -_College Rhymes_, 1870. - - * * * * * - - -THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. - -_After Tennyson_ (_and a long way after, too_). - - With many a care my life's beset, - My charms are growing mellow, - And I have not secured as yet - An eligible fellow. - I sing, I play, and through the dance - I skim like any swallow; - The ladies look at me askance, - And say I'm vain and shallow. - I chatter, chatter as I go, - And some pronounce me clever. - But the men that come they're awfully slow, - And pop the question _never_, _never_. - Pop the question never, never, - Pop the question never. - - I gad about, and in and out - My hopeless fate bewailing; - And think with secret pain and doubt - Of youth and beauty failing. - A youth there is for whose dear sake - To distant lands I'd travel; - I thought he would an offer make - One evening on the gravel. - He spoke in accents soft and low, - But word of love came never. - The men that come are sure to go, - And some take leave for ever, - Some take leave for ever, ever, - Some take leave for ever. - - I strive by many cunning plots, - Their feelings to discover, - And sometimes sweet forget-me-nots - Present to backward lover; - And though with costly gems from far, - I deck my shining tresses, - And though I sing of love and war, - And sport becoming dresses, - 'Tis all in vain this idle show, - I'll gain their favour never. - For men may come and men may go, - But I'm stuck fast for ever, - I'm stuck fast for ever, ever, - I'm stack fast for ever. - -_The Harborne Parish Church Bazaar News_ (Birmingham), September 26, 1874. - - * * * * * - - Flow down, old river, to the sea, - Thy tribute-muck deliver! - But lake this comfort, Thames, from Me, - _This shan't go on for ever!_ - - _Punch_, August 23, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -OUR RIVER (A TENNYSONIAN IDYLL). - -OLD FATHER THAMES, _loq._ - - "'I come from haunts of coot and hern,' - From 'neath green ferns I sally; - But into me they quickly turn - The sewage of my valley! - - "By fifty sewer mouths I pass-- - My surface black with midges; - And bubbles huge of sewage gas - Float down beneath my bridges. - - "When first I babble o'er the lea, - As crystal clear I chatter; - But twenty towns soon poison me - With foul organic matter. - - "Till last by Barking Creek I go, - A thick, pestiferous river; - And tides may ebb, and tides may flow, - But I smell on for ever! - - "I fill with scum my little bays, - I coat with slime my pebbles; - The mud I leave on winter days - The summer drought soon trebles. - - "With many a stench the air I fill, - With many an odour fetid; - And epidemics I distil - Throughout the dog-days heated. - - "I churn contagion as I go, - A foul, filth-sodden river; - For tides may ebb, and tides may flow, - But I smell on for ever! - - "I wind about, and in and out, - With here a dead cat floating, - And here a party seized, past doubt, - With sickness whilst they're boating. - - "And Water Companies extract - My water as I travel, - Till I for miles am nought, in fact, - But banks of mud and gravel. - - "In short, if they thus pump me dry, - And list to reason never, - Whilst Londoners are talking, I - Shall just flow _off_ for ever! - - "As 'tis, the fish are well nigh killed - In all my urban reaches; - And places once with gudgeon filled - Are now too dry for leeches. - - "I ruin lawns and grassy plots - By foul deposits spreading; - I blight the sweet forget-me-nots - From Twickenham to Reading. - - "I crawl, I creep, I smell, I smear, - Amongst my oozy shallows; - I so pollute the atmosphere - It quite knocks-up the swallows. - - "I grow each season more impure, - As every one's remarking; - I am an open running sewer - From Teddington to Barking. - - "And so upon my course I go, - A foul, pestiferous river, - And tides may ebb, and tides may flow, - But I smell on for ever!" - - _Truth_, July 31, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE (NORTH) BROOK. - -(_Some Way After Tennyson_). - - 'Tis an ill wind thus blows me out, - From home I must be sailing, - Whilst here the rest will chase, no doubt, - The grouse with zest unfailing. - - * * * * * - - I'm sent to watch by Nile's swift flow. - Confound that ancient river! - M.P.'s may come, M.P.'s may go; - Must I toil on for ever? - - _Punch_, August 16, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -PEERS, IDLE PEERS. - -"The House of Lords sat last night somewhat less than a quarter of an -hour, during which no business was done." - - Peers, idle Peers, I know not what they do. - Peers from the depths of their luxurious chairs - Rise in the Clubs, and saunter into the House, - In-looking on the happy Hugh, Lord Cairns, - And thinking of the Bills that are in store. - - Sure as the hammer falling at a sale, - That makes us travel by the Underground, - Sad as the feeling when our bargains prove - Not quite the treasure which we hoped to find; - So sad, so sure, the Bills that are to bore. - - Ah, sad (not strange) as on dreary winter morns. - The surliest knock of half-impatient dun - To drowsy ears, ere, watched by drowsy eyes, - The tailor slowly goes across the square; - So sad, so very sad, the bills that are in store. - - Drear as repeated hisses at your Play. - And drear as dreams by indigestion caused - To those that take hot suppers; dull as law, - Dull as dry law, and lost without regret; - O House of Lords, the Bills that are a bore. - - _Punch_, March 7, 1868. - - * * * * * - - "Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; - The cloud may stoop from Heaven and take the shape, - With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape; - But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee? - Ask me no more." - - * * * * * - - TENNYSON (_The Princess_). - - * * * * * - - -TO AN IMPORTUNATE HOST. - -(_During Dinner, and after Tennyson_). - - Ask me no more: I've had enough Chablis; - The wine may come again, and take the shape, - From glass to glass, of "Mountain" or of "Cape;" - But, my dear boy, when I have answered thee, - Ask me no more. - - Ask me no more: what answer should I give, - I love not pickled pork nor partridge pie; - I feel if I took whisky I should die! - Ask me no more--for I prefer to live: - Ask me no more. - - Ask me no more: unless my fate is sealed, - And I have striven against you all in vain. - Let your good butler bring me Hock again: - Then rest, dear boy. If for this once I yield, - Ask me no more. - - ANONYMOUS. - - -SONG. - -To the tune of Tennyson's "Home they brought her warrior dead." - -(General Hill fell in the battle before Petersburg, and was the last man -buried with military honours on the eve of the evacuation). - - Lay the stern old warrior down, - Deeply in his narrow bed, - Ere the conqueror sack the town, - Ere the foeman o'er him tread. - - They who checked the battle-tide-- - Hoary warriors weeping said, - "Foremost where the bravest died, - Foremost where his country bled." - - Low they laid the Pride of War, - Soldiers sternly round him mourned: - "Glorious was our battle-star, - Glorious when the battle burned." - - Loudly crashed the fierce farewell-- - _This_ of all his toil the crown: - Falling where his country fell, - Falling by the fallen town. - - Turning from the warrior's side, - Spake a chieftain often proved: - "Nobly for our land he died, - Nobly for the land he loved." - - A. R. - _Exeter Coll._, Oxford. - -_College Rhymes_, 1865 (J. and G. Shrimpton, Oxford). - - * * * * * - - -SONG. - - Home they brought her husband--"tight," - She nor moved, nor uttered cry, - But the Peeler, winking said, - "Won't he get it by-and-bye." - - Then they placed him on the bed, - Called him "Jolly dog," "old boy!" - Placed the pillows 'neath his head-- - Yet she showed nor grief, nor joy. - - Stole her daughter from her seat - Up to where her father slept, - Pulled the boots from off his feet, - Yet she neither moved nor wept. - - Then the "Bobby" took his purse, - Placed it empty on her knee, - Rose her voice as if to curse-- - "Not one sixpence left for me!" - -_Vagrant Leaves_, Part I, October, 1866. (A clever little illustrated -magazine, of which only three numbers were issued; they are now -exceedingly scarce). - - * * * * * - - Home the "worrier" comes! We read - All his words, nor uttered sigh; - But the Tories, sneering, said, - "He must talk or he would die." - - Then we praised his speeches long, - Called them worthy to be heard-- - Brilliant thoughts and language strong; - Still the Tories cried, "Absurd!" - - Stole Lord Random from his place, - Lightly to the "worrier" stept; - Tried to fool him to his face-- - Back into his hole he crept. - - Came a host of stupid peers, - Swore the franchise should not be; - Like rolling thunder rose our cheers-- - Grand Old Man, success to thee! - - ALFRED C. BRANT. - -_The Weekly Dispatch_, September 14, 1884. (Parody Competition). - - * * * * * - -"The Charge of the Light Brigade" is still one of the most popular of -Tennyson's poems, in spite of its many faults, and defective construction. -Some of its lines are, indeed, ridiculous, whilst many are ungrammatical, -but the metre is pleasing, and the words have the ring of the battle about -them. Tennyson, however, can claim no credit for these merits, having -boldly appropriated them from Michael Drayton's poem on the Battle of -Agincourt, in which the following lines occur:-- - - "They now to fight are gone, - Armour on armour shone: - Drum now to drum did groan; - To hear was to wonder; - That with the cries they make, - The very earth did shake, - Trumpet to trumpet spake, - Thunder to thunder." - -Several parodies of "The Charge of the Light Brigade" remain to be quoted, -in addition to those already given; indeed, this poem appears to possess a -peculiar attraction for imitators. - - * * * * * - -The following parody was written on the occasion of a lecture on "Light" -having been given in Horncastle by the late Dr. H. G. Ward:-- - - -THE "LIGHT" CAVALIER'S CHARGE. - - With half a score, - Half a score, - Half a score rings bedight, - Through the great lecture room - Staggered Professor Light. - He had been asked to speak - Fifth of December bleak, - Could he deny his squeak? - Had he not heaps of cheek? - As on the dais - Swaggered Professor Light. - - Kinsfolk to right of him, - Kinsfolk to left of him - "Buttons" in front of him, - Listened and wondered! - Conceited without a doubt, - Sing-song he brought it out, - Had he not learnt to spout, - Rolling his eyes about, - Amongst the two hundred. - - Was not the lecture good, - His for great minds the food! - See how erect he stood. - Teaching his Townsmen, - Whilst Horncastle wondered! - Surrounded by Kith and Kin, - Did he not give it in? - "Light" was the very thing - Whereon our faith to pin. - Misled by Forbes Winslow, - The Doctor who blundered-- - Then he sat down amid - Cheers from two hundred. - - Kinsfolk to right of him, - Kinsfolk to left of him, - No one behind him - Listened and wondered. - Other orbs, great and small, - Took fresh light, one and all, - In the great lecture hall - From Light's special envoy. - These were but few, indeed, - Of the two hundred. - - Honour Professor bold, - Long shall the tale be told; - Aye, when our babes be old, - How he enlightened us! - - * * * * * - - -THE CHARGE OF THE COURT BRIGADE. - -I. - - Half a yard--half a yard-- - Half a yard onward, - Through the first crush-room - Pressed the Four Hundred. - Forward--the Fair Brigade! - On to the Throne, they said: - On to the Presence Room - Crushed the Four Hundred. - -II. - - Forward, the Fair Brigade! - Was there a girl dismayed? - E'en though the chaperons knew - Some one had blundered. - Theirs not to make complaint, - Theirs not to sink or faint, - Theirs--but words cannot paint - Half the discomfiture - Of the Four Hundred. - -III. - - Crowds on the right of them, - Crowds on the left of them, - Crowds all in front of them, - Stumbled and blundered: - On through the courtier-lined - Rooms--most tremendous grind-- - Into the Presence-Room, - Leaving their friends behind, - Passed the Four Hundred. - -IV. - - Flushed all their faces fair, - Flashed all their jewels rare, - Scratched all their shoulders bare, - Thrusting each other--while - Outsiders wondered: - Into the Presence Room, - Taking their turn they come,-- - Some looking very glum - O'er trains sore-sundered:-- - Kiss hand, and outwards back, - Fagged, the Four Hundred! - -V. - - Crowds to the right of them, - Crowds on the left of them, - Crowds all in front of them, - Stumbled and blundered-- - Back through more courtier-lined - Rooms--O, tremendous grind!-- - _Débutantes_ thirsty pined - For ice or cup o' tea: - No sofas horse-hair lined, - Not a chair or settee, - Poor dear Four Hundred! - -VI. - - Mothers to rage gave vent, - Husbands for broughams sent, - While at mismanagement - Both sorely wondered. - Not till the sun had set, - Not till the lamps were lit, - Home from the Drawing Room - Got the Four Hundred. - -VII. - - Some, I heard, in despair - Of getting stool or chair, - Took to the floor, and there - Sat down and wondered. - Now, my Lord Chamberlain, - Take my advice. Again - When there's a Drawing-room, - Shut doors, and don't let in - More than Two Hundred. - - _Punch_, May 30, 1874. - - * * * * * - - -THE BATTLE OF BARTLEMY'S. - - Snowballs to right of them, - Snowballs to left of them, - Snowballs in front of them, - Shattered and sundered. - "Forward the Blue Brigade! - Run 'em in! Who's afraid?" - Less easy done than said: - Not in the least dismayed, - Every bold student stayed, - And at the Blue Brigade - Volleyed and thundered. - Flashed every truncheon bare, - Helmets were tossed in air, - Robert gets quite a scare, - While every student there - Hooted and pelted. - - * * * * * - - Stormed at with jeer and yell, - Truncheon and helmet fell, - Back rushed they all, pell mell,-- - How the force wondered; - Many a pretty maid, - Down in the area shade, - Weeps for her Bob betrayed, - Weeps for her Blue Brigade, - Knowing they blundered. - - _Funny Folks_, December 25, 1875. - - * * * * * - - -CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. - -(No. 2.) - -(_At the Alexandra Palace Banquet, given to the survivors of the Baltic of -Balaclava, on October_ 25, 1875). - - Paying sight! Left and right, - Crowds pressing onward,-- - Sharp Alexandra Board - Dines the Two Hundred! - "Free passes grant them all!" - Veterans, short and tall-- - Sharp Alexandra Board-- - (Profits will not be small)-- - Dines the Two Hundred! - - "Go it, the Light Brigade!" - Toast-Master, sore dismayed, - Queered by those heroes' chaff, - Boggled and blundered. - Theirs not to speechify, - Still less to make reply; - Theirs but to drain all dry,-- - Into the drinkables - Walked the Two Hundred! - - Bottles to right of them, - Bottles to left of them, - Bottles in front of them, - While the band thundered; - They knew no "Captain Cork"-- - Boldly they went to work, - After the eatables - Fell to their knife and fork,-- - Thirsty Two Hundred! - - _À La Russe_ might surprise, - Still they knew joints and pies, - Clearing the dishes there, - _Relevés_ and _entrées_, while - Scared waiters wondered; - Then, plunged in 'bacca smoke, - Glasses and pipes they broke-- - Comrades long sundered, - Big with old lark and joke, - Gleefully met again-- - Jolly Two Hundred! - - Trophies to right of them, - Trophies to left of them, - CARDIGAN'S charger's head, - Piously sundered! - Back they reeled, from the spread, - Straight as they could, to bed-- - They that had dined so well-- - Nothing to pay per head-- - Happy Two Hundred! - - When shall their glory fade? - O, what a meal they made! - Cockneydom wondered. - Honour the Charge they made-- - Bravo the Light Brigade! - Hearty Two Hundred! - - _Punch_, November 6, 1875. - - * * * * * - - -ON THE RINK. - - Half a mile, half a mile, - Half a mile onward, - On to the skating rink - Came the fair trio. - "Skates for the fair trio, - Oil them well before they go," - Over the smooth rink - Slide the fair trio. - - Forward the fair trio! - Was a false step made? No! - Not tho' they all knew - Some one had tumbled. - Theirs but to give a sigh, - Theirs but to let him lie, - Theirs but to pass him by, - Away o'er the rink - Glide the fair trio. - - Admirers to right of them, - Admirers to left of them, - Admirers in front of them, - Wonder'd and wonder'd. - "Outside edge," and never fell, - Boldly they skate and well, - "Treble threes and Q.'s." - Any step you choose,-- - Over the smooth rink - Glide the fair trio. - - Flash'd all their eyes so bright, - Flash'd as they turned in air, - Wounding every fellow there, - With a glance to left and right, - Other girls envying. - "Waltzing" and "Mercury stroke," - Straight through the line they broke, - Whirling and twirling, - Light as the fairy folk, - Twisting and turning,-- - Then they skate back, but not, - Not alone the fair trio. - - Admirers to right of them, - Admirers to left of them, - Admirers on all sides of them, - Wonder'd and wonder'd. - Refreshed with coffee and tea, - Sweet cake, but no "Cherry B." - They whom none excel, - They who deserve so well, - They who no scandal tell, - Away o'er the rink - Glide the fair trio. - "When can their beauty fade?" - Oh! the grand show they made, - All the rink wonder'd; - Applaud all the skill displayed, - Admire the fair trio, - Charming fair trio. - - _The Figaro_, April 10, 1876. - - * * * * * - - -HOW A HUNDRED GUESTS MET THEIR DEATH. - -"There seems to be hardly a single ailment not traceable to the poulterer -or butcher."--_Daily Paper._ - - "Half a duck, half a duck, - Guests do not shirk ye; - Eat, 'tis the Christmas luck, - Eat a whole turkey!" - Little thought they of pain, - Killed they the plate again, - Why would ye not refrain? - On to death, onward! - - Death was to right of them, - Death was to left of them, - Death right in front of them, - Death in that conger! - Long did they feast, and well, - _How_ long I cannot tell, - Till they began to yell, - "Cannot eat longer!" - - Ate they the tables bare, - Swept they the platter clear, - While the host wondered. - Wrapped in the pudding's smoke, - Right through its midst they broke, - Mince pies were sundered! - Then sank they back; but not-- - Not the same hundred. - - _Judy_, January 16, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -A WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA. - -(_As the Laureate might have adapted it to the opening of the Alexandra -Palace_). - - Muswellian Palace far over the lea, - ALEXANDRA! - Eastern and Western and South are we, - But all of us North in our welcome of thee, - ALEXANDRA! - Welcome it, _Times_ and _Telegraph_ fleet; - Welcome it, _Echo_, that sells in the street; - Break, _Daily News_, into rhetoric's flower; - Make "copy," O _Standard_, and new budded _Hour!_ - Blazon advertisements, concert and play, - Ballet, with Lancers, sportive and gay; - Bertram and Roberts, famed for supply, - Cut from the joint, or savoury pie, - Ices and jellies and nourishing things; - Speckman's wonderful Hall of the Kings; - Warble, O bugle, and trumpet blare, - Flags flutter out upon turrets and towers, - Clash, ye bells, in the rainy May air-- - Welcome, welcome, this Palace of ours! - Palace of corridor, vestibule, hall, - Lofty in roofing, with pillars so tall, - Meet for dining and dancing; and, O! - Fireworks--the brightest that mortal may know; - Reach to the roof sudden rocket, and higher, - Melt into stars for the crowd's desire; - Flash, ye rockets, in showers of fire, - Flaming comets shoot swift on the wire-- - Welcome it, welcome it, land and sea; - O joy to the populace yet unknown, - We come to thee, love, and make thee our own-- - For Camden, Camberwell, Bloomsburee, - Highgate, Belgravia, or Battersea, - We are all of us Muswell in welcome of thee, - ALEXANDRA! - - _Funny Folks_, May 15, 1875. - -After Tennyson's - - -"Flower in the Crannied Wall." - - Terrier in my Granny's hall, - I whistle you out of my Granny's; - Hold you here, tail and all, in my hand, - Little terrier: but if I could understand - What you are, tail and all, and all in all, - I should know what "black and tan" is. - - C. - -_Kottabos_, Dublin, 1870. - - * * * * * - -There have been numerous imitations of _In Memoriam_, and Mr. -William Dobson, in his "Poetical Ingenuities," speaking of parodies, -observes:--"One appeared in _Punch_ a number of years ago, called -'Ozokerit,' a travesty of Tennyson's 'In Memoriam,' which has been -considered one of the finest ever written." It is unquestionably very -clever. Singularly enough it did not appear in the body of _Punch_ at -all, but on the outside wrapper, as an advertisement, so that many people -who have bound sets of _Punch_ will not find the parody, which was as -follows:-- - - -OZOKERIT. - -(By A. T., or some one who writes as well as _he_). - - Wild whispers on the air did flit, - Wild whispers, shaped to mystic hints, - When bright in breadths of public prints - Shone that great name "Ozokerit." - - And much the people marvelled when - That embryon thing should leap to view! - And "what is it," and "whereunto?" - Rang frequent in the mouths of men. - - "This babbler! is he not to blame? - Or will he, in the cycled course - Of Time, with circumstance and force - Invest this nothing of a name?" - - And one his thought would thus declare, - "Our fooling makes this fellow blithe, - He joys to see conjecture writhe - And flutter in the wordy snare." - - Thereat one wiselier--"Watch and see - (When Time be ripe, which now is rathe) - His Titan-touch unfold the swathe - That darkly wraps the great 'To be.'" - - Shine forth yet undiscovered star! - Shed largess of all precious balms! - We dimly grope with vacant palms - And wondering wait thy Avatar. - - Thou cam'st by Prejudice withstood - In vain, and lulling doubt to sleep: - But one--yet two in one--the cheap - Divinely wedded to the good. - - A thing of beauty, form combined - With soul phlogistic, sent to cloy - Our Æon, with Promethean joy:-- - A joy from central darkness mined. - - Of regions haunted by the Hun; - Thence baled with cost of countless gold - To Lambeth's marish, and in mould - Of seeming-waxen tapers run: - - Whose radiance is as that of moons - Innumerous, making day of night; - With most intensity of light, - Emblazing fashion's gay saloons. - - When sound of midnight morrice rings - On floor and roof, and all is noise, - Of jubilant Ophicleids, hautboys, - Clear twanging harp, and fiddle strings. - - And shapes of silver-bosomed girls, - In bacchant revel wheeling, trace - The waltz with sweet disordered grace - Of twinkling feet and flashing curls. - - * * * * * - - -IN MEMORIAM TECHNICAM. - - I count it true which sages teach-- - That passion sways not with repose, - That love, confounding these with those, - Is ever welding each with each. - - And so when time has ebbed away, - Like childish wreaths too lightly held, - The song of immemorial eld - Shall moan about the belted bay, - - Where slant Orion slopes his star, - To swelter in the rolling seas, - Till slowly widening by degrees, - The grey climbs upward from afar, - - And golden youth and passion stray - Along the ridges of the strand-- - Not far apart, but hand in hand-- - With all the darkness danced away! - -_Vere Vereker's Vengeance._ By Thomas Hood, the younger, 1865. - - * * * * * - - -A NEW CHRISTMAS SONG. - -(Adapted to the Times from In Memoriam). - -_Apropos of the wet winter of_ 1872. - - Wring out the clouds in that damp sky, - Which all this year so drear have made, - If, for the weather's clerk, her trade - A weather-washerwoman ply. - - Wring out the old, wring in the new, - Wring, weather-washerwoman, so, - That wet shod if the Old Year must go - The New may damps and dumps eschew. - - Wring out the wet that stands in clay, - Rots the potatoes in their bed, - Fingers and toes gives swedes instead - Of bellies in the usual way. - - Wring out my mouchoir, damp with flow - Of constant cold through warp and woof, - Bring in a patent waterproof, - Through whose seams raindrops will not go. - - Wring out the shirts, wring out the skin, - To which I've been wet many times; - Ring out the raindrops' pattering chimes, - And bring some drier weather in! - - _Punch_, December 28, 1872. - - -A NEW RING. - - Ring out, glad bells! with clappers strong; - Ring out the year that dies to-night! - Ring in the new year with the light! - Ring in the right, ring out the wrong. - - Ring out the squabbles at the Zoo! - Ring opera boxes in my reach, - And "natives" at a penny each! - Ring out Ward Hunt, whate'er you do. - - Ring out the tax collector's knocks-- - The Hebrew usurer--the dun! - Ring coals in at a pound a ton, - Ring out the women's "tie-back" frocks! - - Ring out th' oppressors of the poor-- - The rinderpest and Ouida's books! - Ring in some housemaids and some cooks, - Ring out the Reverend Edward Moore. - - Ring out all rates without delay! - Ring in the Law Courts, if you can! - Ring out, ring out, the _Englishman!_ - Ring out Kenealy, right away! - - _O. P. Q. P. Smiff_, in _The Figaro_, January 5, 1876. - - * * * * * - - -THE COMING MANNIKIN. - -Mr. Punch, having heard that many Conservatives looked upon Lord Randolph -Churchill as the "Coming Man" of their party, expressed himself as -follows:-- - - Ring out fools'-bells to limbo's dome, - Which copes the neo-Tory clique! - The man is coming whom they seek! - Ring out fools'-bells, and let him come! - Ring out the old, ring in the new. - Ring jangling bells a Bedlam chime; - 'Tis the true _Simon Pure_ this time; - Ring in the chief of Gnatdom's crew! - - * * * * * - - Ring out old pride in race and blood, - That kept the fierce old fighters right; - Ring in crude slander and small spite, - The urchin love of flinging mud. - Ring out the gentleman! Ring in - The narrow heart, the rowdy hand. - Ring out the brave, the wise, the grand! - Ring in the Coming Mannikin! - - _Punch_, November 19, 1881. - - -The parody of _In Memoriam_, mentioned on Page 61 as having appeared in -the _St. James's Gazette_ of June 18, 1881, was written by Mr. H. D. -Traill, and has since been re-published, by Messrs. Blackwood and Sons, in -a volume entitled _Recaptured Rhymes_. Parodies of D. G. Rossetti, A. C. -Swinburne, and Robert Browning are contained in the same volume, and will -be quoted when the works of these authors are reached. - -Detached portions of Tennyson's _Maud_, have frequently been parodied, but -the only case in which any attempt appears to have been made to imitate -all its varying styles, and phases of thought, occurs in a small volume -published in 1859, entitled _Rival Rhymes in Honour of Burns_. - -Unfortunately, the mere trick of imitating the metre only does not -constitute a good parody, and this one lacks both in interest and humour. -It is, besides, very long. The following are some of its best verses:-- - - -THE POET'S BIRTH: - -A MYSTERY. - -_By the P--t L--te._ - -I. - - I HATE the dreadful hollow behind the dirty town, - At the corner of its lips are oozing a foul ferruginous slime, - Like the toothless tobacco-cramm'd mouth of a hag who enriches the - crown - By consuming th 'excised weed,--parent of smuggling crime! - -II. - - 'Tis night; the shivering stars, wrapt in their cloud-blankets - dreaming, - Forget to light an old crone, who to cross the hollow would try; - But watchful Aldebaran, in Taurus's head swift gleaming, - Like a policeman, to help her, turns on his bull's-eye. - -III. - - There's a hovel of mud, and the crone, mudded and muddled, - Knocks, and an oxidized hinge creaks a rusty "Come in." - There are now in the hovel,--a woman in bed-gear huddled, - A careworn man, and a midwife, her functional fee to win. - -IV. - - Midwives are hard as millstones: Expectant father's emotions - Are dragg'd by the heart's wild tide, like seashore shingle, - Shrieking complaint, when the fierce assaults of the ocean - Beat them all round, without an exception single. - - * * * * * - - 1. Darkness! Darkness! Darkness! - Ebon carved idol of wickedness! - Guilty deeds do love thee, - Innocent childhood fears thee; - Therefore these do prove thee - An unbless'd thing!--Who hears thee, - Grisly, gaunt, and lonely,-- - Darkness! Darkness! Darkness! - Thy brother Silence only! - - 2. Lightness! Lightness! Lightness! - Great quality in small things, - A pudding, above all things! - Great quality in great things, - And, not to understate things, - Thou art the essence of sunshine, - Lightness! Lightness! Lightness! - Whose brightness-- - And whiteness-- - Are but lackness - Of blackness. - - Therefore, Darkness! Darkness! - Ebon-carved idol of wickedness! - Let those who love you - And Silence, prove you - And seek! - Not I! - For why?--for why?--for why? - I'll speak! - - * * * * * - - Falling is the snow, - Every frosty flake - Making the round world - Like a wedding-cake. - What is't makes the snow? - Is it frost? No, no! - Petals of the rose - That in the heaven grows, - Thrown by angels down, - In Elysian play, - Make the snow, I say, - To produce a crown - For the bridal day. - - * * * * * - - _Rival Rhymes, in Honour of Burns_, 1859. - - * * * * * - - -MAUD, AND OTHER POEMS. - -By A. T. (D.C.L.) - -SONG. - - Chirrup, chirp, chirp, chirp twitter, - Warble, flutter, and fly away; - Dicky birds, chickey birds--quick, ye bird, - Shut it up, cut it up, die away. - - Maud is going to sing! - Maud with the voice like lute strings, - (To which the sole species of string - I know of that rhymes is boot-strings). - - Still, you may stop, if you please; - Roar as a chorus sonorous, - Robin, bob in at ease; - Tom-tit, prompt it for us. - - Rose or thistle in, whistlin', - (What a beast is her brother!) - Maud has sung from her tongue rung; - Echo it out, - From each shoot shout, - From each root rout-- - "She'll oblige us with another." - - * * * * * - - -Midsummer Madness, - -A SOLILOQUY. - - I am a hearthrug-- - Yes, a rug-- - Though I cannot describe myself as snug; - Yet I know that for me they paid a price - For a Turkey carpet that would suffice - (But we live in an age of rascal vice). - Why was I ever woven, - For a clumsy lout, with a wooden leg, - To come with his endless Peg! Peg! - Peg! Peg! - With a wooden leg, - Till countless holes I'm drove in. - ("Drove," I have said, and it should be "driven" - A hearthrug's blunders should be forgiven, - For wretched scribblers have exercised - Such endless bosh and clamour, - So improvidently have improvised, - That they've utterly ungrammaticised - Our ungrammatical grammar). - And the coals - Burn holes, - Or make spots like moles, - And my lily-white tints, as black as your hat turn, - And the housemaid (a matricide, will-forging slattern), - Rolls - The rolls - From the plate, in shoals, - When they're put to warm in front of the coals; - And no one with me condoles, - For the butter stains on my beautiful pattern. - But the coals and rolls, and sometimes soles, - Dropp'd from the frying-pan out of the fire, - Are nothing to raise my indignant ire, - Like the Peg! Peg! - Of that horrible man with the wooden leg. - - This moral spread from me, - Sing it, ring it, yelp it-- - Never a hearth-rug be, - That is if you can help it. - - * * * * * - - -AN EXTRACT (NOT) FROM TENNYSON'S "MAUD." - - Birds in St. Stephen's garden, - Mocking birds, were bawling-- - "Lord, Lord, Lord, John!" - They were crying and calling. - - Where was John? In a fix! - Gone to Vienna, whither - They'd sent him out of the way,-- - Tories and Whigs together. - - Birds in St. Stephen's sang, - Chattering, chattering round him-- - "John is here, here, here, - Back too soon, confound him!" - - They saw his dirty hands! - Meekly he bore their punning; - John[13] is not seventy yet, - But he's very little and cunning. - - He to show up himself! - How can he ever explain it? - John were certain of place, - If shuffling could retain it. - - * * * * * - - Look, a cab at the door, - Dizzy has snarled for an hour; - Go back, my Lord, for you're a bore, - And at last you're out of power. - - _Our Miscellany._ - -(Which ought to have come out, but didn't). - - * * * * * - - -GRANNY'S HOUSE. - - Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn, - Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the dinner horn. - 'Tis the place, and all about it, as of old, the rat and mouse - Very loudly squeak and nibble, running over Granny's house;-- - Granny's house, with all its cupboards, and its rooms as neat as wax, - And its chairs of wood unpainted, where the old cats rubbed their - backs. - Many a night from yonder garret window, ere I went to rest, - Did I see the cows and horses come in slowly from the west; - Many a night I saw the chickens, flying upward through the trees, - Roosting on the sleety branches, when I thought their feet would - freeze; - Here about the garden wandered, nourishing a youth sublime - With the beans, and sweet potatoes, and the melons which were prime; - When the pumpkin-vines behind me with their precious fruit reposed, - When I clung about the pear-tree, for the promise that it closed. - When I dipt into the dinner far as human eye could see, - Saw the vision of the pie, and all the dessert that would be. - In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; - In the spring the noisy pullet gets herself another nest; - In the spring a livelier spirit makes the ladies' tongues more glib; - In the spring a young boy's fancy lightly hatches up a fib. - Then her cheek was plump and fatter than should be for one so old, - And she eyed my every motion, with a mute intent to scold. - And I said, "My worthy Granny, now I speak the truth to thee,-- - "Better believe it,--I have eaten all the apples from one tree." - On her kindling cheek and forehead came a colour and a light, - As I have seen the rosy red flashing in the northern night; - And she turned,--her fist was shaken at the coolness of the lie; - She was mad, and I could see it, by the snapping of her eye, - Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do thee wrong,"-- - Saying, "I shall whip you, Sammy, whipping I shall go it strong." - She took me up, and turned me pretty roughly, when she'd done, - And every time she shook me, I tried to jerk and run; - She took off my little coat, and struck again with all her might, - And before another minute, I was free, and out of sight. - Many a morning, just to tease her, did I tell her stories yet, - Though her whisper made me tingle, when she told me what I'd get; - Many an evening did I see her where the willow sprouts grew thick, - And I rushed away from Granny at the touching of her stick. - O my Granny, old and ugly, O my Granny's hateful deeds, - O the empty, empty garret, O the garden gone to weeds, - Crosser than all fancy fathoms, crosser than all songs have sung, - I was puppet to your threat, and servile to your shrewish tongue, - Is it well to wish thee happy, having seen thy whip decline - On a boy with lower shoulders, and a narrower back than mine? - Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the dinner-horn, - They to whom my Granny's whippings were a target for their scorn; - Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a mouldered string? - I am shamed through all my nature to have loved the mean old thing; - Weakness to be wroth with weakness! woman's pleasure, woman's spite, - Nature made them quicker motions, a considerable sight. - Woman is the lesser man, and all thy whippings matched with mine - Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine. - Here at least when I was little, something, O, for some retreat - Deep in yonder crowded city where my life began to beat, - Where one winter fell my father, slipping off a keg of lard, - I was left a trampled orphan, and my case was pretty hard. - Or to burst all links of habit, and to wander far and fleet, - On from farm-house unto farm-house till I found my Uncle Pete, - Larger sheds and barns, and newer, and a better neighbourhood, - Greater breadth of field and woodlands, and an orchard just as good. - Never comes my Granny, never cuts her willow switches there; - Boys are safe at Uncle Peter's, I'll bet you what you dare. - Hangs the heavy-fruited pear-tree: you may eat just what you like. - 'Tis a sort of little Eden, about two miles off the pike. - There, methinks, would be enjoyment, more than being quite so near - To the place where even in manhood I almost shake with fear. - There the passions, cramped no longer, shall have scope and breathing - space. - I will 'scape that savage woman; she shall never rear my race; - Iron-jointed, supple-sinewed, they shall dive and they shall run; - She has caught me like a wild-goat, but she shall not catch my son. - He shall whistle to the dog, and get the books from off the shelf, - Not, with blinded eyesight, cutting ugly whips to whip himself. - Fool again, the dream of fancy! no, I don't believe it's bliss, - But I'm certain Uncle Peter's is a better place than this. - Let them herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of all glorious gains, - Like the horses in the stables, like the sheep that crop the lanes; - Let them mate with dirty cousins--what to me were style or rank, - I the heir of twenty acres, and some money in the bank? - Not in vain the distance beckons, forward let us urge our load, - Let our cart-wheels spin till sundown, ringing down the grooves of - road; - Through the white dust of the turnpike she can't see to give us chase: - Better seven years at Uncle's than fourteen at Granny's place. - O, I see the blessed promise of my spirit hath not set! - If we once get in the wagon, we will circumvent her yet. - Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Granny's farm; - Not for me she'll cut the willows, not at me she'll shake her arm. - Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over heath and holt, - Cramming all the blast before it,--guess it holds a thunderbolt: - Wish't would fall on Granny's house, with rain, or hail, or fire, or - snow, - Let me get my horses started Uncle Pete-ward, and I'll go. - - _Poems and Parodies_, by Phœbe Carey. - - Boston, United States, 1854. - - * * * * * - - -THE SQUATTER'S 'BACCY FAMINE. - - In blackest gloom he cursed his lot; - His breath was one long, weary sigh; - His brows were gathered in a knot - That only baccy could untie. - His oldest pipe was scraped out clean; - The deuce a puff was left him there; - A hollow sucking sound of air - Was all he got his lips between. - He only said, "My life is dreary, - The Baccy's done," he said, - He said, "I am aweary, aweary; - By Jove, I'm nearly dead." - - The chimney-piece he searched in vain, - Into each pocket plunged his fist; - His cheek was blanched with weary pain, - His mouth awry for want of twist. - He idled with his baccy knife; - He had no care for daily bread:-- - A single stick of Negro-head - Would be to him the staff of life. - He only said, "My life is dreary. - The Baccy's done," he said. - He said, "I am aweary, aweary; - I'd most as soon be dead." - - Books had no power to mend his grief; - The magazines could tempt no more; - "Cut gold-leaf" was the only leaf - That he had cared to ponder o'er. - From chair to sofa sad he swings, - And then from sofa back to chair; - But in the depths of his despair - Can catch no "bird's-eye" view of things. - And still he said, "My life is dreary. - No Baccy, boys," he said. - He said, "I am aweary, aweary; - I'd just as soon be dead." - - His meals go by, he knows not how; - No taste in flesh, or fowl, or fish; - There's not a dish could tempt him now, - Except a cake of Caven-dish. - His life is but a weary drag; - He cannot choose but curse and swear, - And thrust his fingers through his hair, - All shaggy in the want of shag. - And still he said, "My life is dreary. - No Baccy, boys," he said. - He said, "I am aweary, aweary; - I'd rather far be dead." - - To him one end of old cheroot - Were sweetest root that ever grew. - No honey were due substitute - For "Our Superior Honey-Dew." - One little fig of Latakia - Would buy all fruits of Paradise; - "Prince Alfred's Mixture" fetch a price - Above both Prince and Galatea. - Sudden he said, "No more be dreary! - The dray has come!" he said. - He said, "I'll smoke till I am weary,-- - And then I'll go to bed." - -_Miscellaneous Poems_, by J. Brunton. Stephens. (Macmillan and Co., -London), 1880. - -This book contains several other amusing parodies of the poems of -Swinburne, E. A. Poe, and Coleridge, which will be quoted in future parts -of the collection. They all relate to Colonial life, and are now difficult -to meet with, as all the unsold copies of the book have been returned to -the author, who resides in Australia. - - * * * * * - - -THE VOICE AND THE PIQUE. - -(Amended Edition, by the P-- L--.) - - The Voice and the Pique! - It was once a beautiful Voice - From a girl with roseate cheek, - Who made my heart rejoice. - - But the Voice--or the girl--ah, which? - Against me took a Pique, - Because I was not so rich - As she thought--and the voice grew a squeak. - - Hast thou no voice, O Pique? - Thou hast, uncommonly shrill: - And I know that a Maiden meek - May grow to a wife with a will. - - Ah, misery comes, and miscarriage, - To all who wear fleshly fetters; - She's made a Capital marriage-- - I mourn in Capital Letters. - - _Punch_, October 17, 1874. - - * * * * * - - -THE PLAINT OF THE PLUMBER AND BUILDER. - -(In the case of Dee v. Dalgairns, the plaintiff, a plumber by trade, sued -the defendant Dalgairns, a Civil Engineer, for the sum of thirty pounds -for the erection of a lavatory. The defendant made a counter claim of one -hundred and twenty pounds, on the ground that the work being improperly -done, sewer gas escaped into the house, and caused the illness of six -members of the household, and the death of his son. He, therefore, claimed -the doctor's bill and other expenses. The Judge struck out the plaintiff's -claim, and gave judgment for the defendant). - - -SOLO BY THE PLUMBER. - - "I scamp the joints. I scamp the drains. - I am an artful Plumber; - You'll feel my hand in winter's rains, - You'll sniff it in the summer." - - "I dig, I delve, I patch, I pry, - And lay the pipes so badly, - That even bland Surveyors sigh, - And tenants chatter madly." - -(_Here the Jerry Builder breaks in with his Jeremiad_). - - "I build my floors on rags and bones, - Or lush organic matter; - Or where the grass in swampy zones - Grows greener and grows fatter." - - "My doors are sure to warp in time, - My slates let in the water; - Take equal parts of dust and slime. - And there you have my mortar." - - "I build my wall with many a trick, - So shrewd as to astound one; - With here and there a rotten brick, - And here and there a sound one." - -_The Artful Plumber resumes his plaint;_-- - - "The sewer-pipe I love to lay, - Connecting with the cistern; - And where's the law that dares to say, - The tenant should have _his_ turn?" - -_Finale by the Pair:_-- - - "Why, here's a Judge who would restrain - Our right to scatter fever! - Should this decision stand, 'tis plain - We _can't_ scamp on for ever!" - - _Punch._ - - * * * * * - - -LIBERAL LYRICS. - -(_Apropos_ of Mr. Gladstone's visit to Scotland). - -A LONG WAY AFTER LORD TENNYSON'S "BROOK." - - I've spouted o'er the land o' Burns, - I've made a gushing sally, - Although I fear, with true Returns, - My speeches will not tally, - - From town to town I've hurried down, - I've talked on hills and ridges; - At railway stations played the clown, - And gabbled from their bridges. - - I've chattered over stony ways. - I've chattered through the heather, - I've doused and soused the Rads with praise, - To keep myself together. - - I chatter, chatter, my words flow - As fast as any river; - Tho' some men's language may be slow, - I can talk on for ever. - - I wind about, and in and out, - I bolster up each failing; - But though I wheedle, brag, and shout, - There's nothing like plain sailing. - - Oh! bless me, what a lot of plots - My tongue elastic covers; - Though Tories ain't forget-me-nots, - Nor Rads precisely lovers. - - The Franchise is my party cry, - The Lords my latest craze is, - And till they both are settled--why, - All things may go to blazes! - - Yet, still my eloquence shall flow - Like some loquacious river; - For men may come and men may go, - I gabble on for ever. - - _England_, September 27, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE TRAIN. - - I come from haunts of Smith and Son, - I agitate the vapours, - I take in Judy, Punch, and Fun, - And all the morning Papers; - And all the magazines besides, - Since Chambers's began, - And all varieties of guides, - And all degrees of man. - - I roll away like "thunder live," - With half a ship the freight of; - Six hundred miles a day at five - Times ten an hour the rate of. - Twice twenty streets I intersect, - And flash o'er twenty runnels. - With many loops the towns connect, - And vanish in the tunnels. - - And out again I curve, and so - Pursue my destination; - For men may come and men may go, - And stop at any station. - I echo down the mountain pass, - I pass fine ruins over, - As light as harebell in the grass, - Or leveret in the clover. - - Like Orpheus the trees I charm, - And set the hedgerows dancing; - With here a forest, there a farm - Retiring and advancing. - I draw them all along, and thread - The counties everywhere, - As men must have their daily bread, - So I my daily fare. - - _Chambers' Journal._ - -Another imitation (and a very long one) of the same original, appeared in -_Punch_, October 11, 1884, and a parody entitled _The Mill_ was in _Judy_, -April 26, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -SONG SUPPOSED TO BE SUNG BY MR. BURNE-JONES. - - "Come into my studio Maud, - If you've chalk'd your face, my own; - Come into my studio, Maud, - I am here at the easel alone; - And the _pot-pourri's_ odour is wafted abroad, - And the scent of the patchouli blown. - - "For I've shut the bright morning out, - With a saffron yellow blind; - And I've thrown my brick-dust velvet about, - And the sage-green curtain untwined; - So haste, my darling, the sun to flout - In your rust-red robe enshrined. - - "All night, as you may have heard, - I've toss'd in a _fantaisie_, - Whether to paint my dear little bird - As a 'Nocturne' or 'Symphony;' - But now I have pass'd my æsthetic word, - An 'arrangement' you are to be. - - "I said to the corpse: 'There is to be one - Who'll be ghastly as your cold clay; - Aye, bluer than you before I have done, - And with hair like glorified hay.' - Come, Maud, it is time that we had begun, - So hasten, my love, I pray, - Or we shan't be able to keep out the sun; - Don't bismuth yourself all day. - - "I said to our surgeon: 'You often go - Where women suffer and pine, - But I bet that a painted face I'll show - Of a love-sick model of mine, - That will beat them all for hopeless woe - And cadaverous design! - - "And our surgeon said, 'No doubt you will, - For the epicene women you paint - Are bilious ghosts in want of a pill, - With undoubted strumous taint; - So hollow-eyed and cheek'd, no skill - Could save them from feeling faint.' - - "Queen Corpse of my graveyard garden of girls, - Come hither, o'er carpets dun, - In your rust-red robe and you're soot-black pearls; - Queen, spectre, and corpse in one! - Shine out, corpse candles, above her curls, - And be the picture's sun! - - "Oh, come! for I've managed to mix - A charnel-house-ish hue; - Oh, come! that your lord may fix - This cholera-morbus blue! - The patchouli whispers: 'She's near, she's near!' - And her musk-drops say: ''Tis true!' - And the creak of her slippers, I hear, I hear, - They're the colour of liquid glue. - - "She is coming, my bilious sweet; - I can see her tawny head; - Her footsteps are far from fleet, - She's tied back till she scarce can tread; - But yet shall her face yours meet, - When the months of the winter have fled, - On the walls of the Grosvenor hung complete - In dissecting-room blue and red!" - - _Truth_, December 26, 1878. - - * * * * * - - -COME INTO "THE GARDEN," MAUD! - -_A very Ideal Idyl of the (we hope not very remote) Future._ - - Come into "the Garden," MAUD! - For the Mudford blight is flown; - Come into "the Garden," MAUD! - I am here by the "Hummums" alone; - No garbage stenches are wafted abroad, - And the slime from the pavement's gone. - - For a breeze of morning blows, - Yet my hand is not compelled - To hold up my handkerchief close to my nose, - As it had to be always held, - When the shops in the market of old would unclose, - And the cry of the porters swelled. - - All night have the suburbs heard - The wheels of the waggons grind; - All night has the driver, with seldom a word, - His horses nodded behind; - And your waggoner is as early a bird - As in Babylon one may find. - - I say to myself, "No, there is not one - To block up the street and stay - Till the hum of the City hath well begun." - I chortle in joyaunce gay. - "Now half to the Southern suburbs are gone, - And half to the North. Hooray! - Low on the wood, and loud on the stone - The last wheel echoes away." - - I say, this _is_ better now, goodness knows, - Than it was but a short time syne. - Oho! my Lord Duke, I am glad to suppose - That much of the credit is thine, - And that I need not go softly and hold my nose, - Or feel sick like a man on the brine. - - No scent of rank refuse goes into my blood - As I stand in the central hall; - And long in "the Garden" I've strolled and stood, - Without feeling qualmish at all. - And I say, "This is really exceeding good, - An improvement that's far from small." - - The paths, roads, and gutters are almost sweet, - And the stodge, like fœtid size, - That used to impede one, and foul one's feet, - No longer offends one's eyes. - 'Tis a pleasantish place for two lovers to meet-- - Quite an urban paradise. - - So, sweetest, most sensitive-nostril'd of girls, - Come hither!--the stenches are gone. - Foul dust blows no more in malodorous whirls, - No cabbage-leaves rot in the sun, - Damp-reek from choked gutter won't straighten your curls, - So come--'twill be really good fun! - - _Punch_, December 16, 1882. - -_Punch_ has long been calling attention to the disgraceful condition of -Covent Garden Market, but hitherto without the slightest success. The -Duke of Bedford appears to totally ignore the fact that property has its -duties, as well as its privileges; and it seems probable that even the -simplest remedies and improvements on his estate will be neglected, until -public attention is drawn to the foul market and its adjacent slums, by -the outbreak of some epidemic. - -There was another parody of "Come into the Garden, Maud," in _Punch_, May -23, 1868. - - * * * * * - - -ANGLING IN THE RYE. - -(A wicked parody on Tennyson's "Old and New Year.") - - I STOOD by a river in the wet, - Where trout and grayling often met, - And waters were rushing and rolling; - And I said: "O Fish, a dainty dish, - Is there aught that is worth the trolling?" - Fishes enough there are rising, - Nibbles so often cajoling, - Matter enough for surmising, - But aught that is worth the trolling? - Waves at my feet were rolling, - Winds o'er the Rye were sailing, - But, alas! for all my trolling - For wily trout and grayling! - - E. H. RICHES, L.L.D. - -_College Rhymes_, 1868 (T. and G. Shrimpton), Oxford. - -The following scientific _jeu d'esprit_ is wafted to us all the way from -San Francisco. Professor O. C. Marsh, of Yale College, is a champion of -Darwinism. He has, however, few followers in America, where Agassiz, -Dawson, and other men of science, hold more orthodox views. - - -A PARODY. - -(Addressed to Professor O. C. Marsh, by a Non-uniformitarian.) - - Break, break, break - At thy cold, grey stones, O. C.! - And I would that my tongue could utter - The thoughts that arise in me. - - O well for the five-toed horse! - That his bones are at rest in the clay: - O well for the ungulate brute! - That he roams o'er the prairie to-day. - - Thy rocks bear the record of life, - Evolved from Time's earliest dawn. - But O for the view of a vanished form, - And the link that is missing and gone! - - Break, break, break - At thy fossils, and stones, O. C.! - But the gentle charm of Uniform Law - Can never quite satisfy me. - - * * * * * - - -TEARS, IDLE TEARS. - -(The Right Hon. Spencer Walpole, Home Secretary, shed tears when he heard -that the Hyde Park Railings had been pulled down by the people to whom he -had denied access to the Park). - - Tears, idle tears--a sweet sensation scene-- - Tears at the thought of that Hyde Park affair - Rise in the eye, and trickle down the nose, - In looking on the haughty EDMOND BEALES, - And thinking of the shrubs that are no more. - - (_Three verses omitted_). - - _Punch_, August 25, 1866. - - * * * * * - -In one of the early Christmas numbers of _Fun_ there appeared a parody -entitled "The Dream of Unfair Women." It concluded thus:-- - - "A maid, blue-stockinged, broke the silence drear, - And flashing forth a winning smile, said she: - 'Tis long since I have seen a man, come here, - Play croquet now with me!'" - - "She spooned, and cheated, and had ancles thick. - I let her win, the game was such a bore, - Her bright ball quivered at the coloured stick, - Touched--and--we played no more." - -The trick of Tennyson's blank verse, as displayed in some of his early and -lighter poems, was admirably imitated by Bayard Taylor in the "Diversions -of the Echo Club," (now published by Messrs. Chatto and Windus). The -parody is entitled "Eustace Green; or, the Medicine Bottle." - -In the second volume of "Echoes from the Clubs" several instances are -given of plagiarisms committed by Tennyson; whilst in "The Figaro" of -October 27, 1875, whole passages from his tragedy of Queen Mary are shown -to have been borrowed. - -Long extracts from the second scene, of the second act, are printed side -by side with similar passages taken from the twenty-eighth chapter of -Ainsworth's old novel, "The Tower of London," showing conclusively that -Tennyson had either appropriated from Ainsworth without acknowledgment, or -that both authors had gone to the same source for inspiration. Again, the -beauties of "The Idylls of the King" are generally insisted on without any -mention being made of the fact that in all the main incidents the poems -simply retell the old "History of King Arthur, and of the Knights of the -Round Table," as compiled by Sir Thomas Malory more than four centuries -ago. Indeed, some of the most pathetic passages of the old original have -been utterly marred; their simple charm and quaint pathos being lost in -the over elaboration of detail affected by the Laureate. The beauty of his -blank verse is admitted, and the Idylls have been frequently parodied. -Unfortunately, most of the parodies are too long to quote in full in this -Part. - - -AN IDYLL OF PHATTE AND LEENE. - - The hale John Sprat--oft called for shortness, Jack-- - Had married--had, in fact, a wife--and she - Did worship him with wifely reverence. - He, who had loved her when she was a girl, - Compass'd her, too, with sweet observances; - His love shone out in every act he did; - E'en at the dinner table did it shine. - For he--liking no fat himself--he never did, - With jealous care piled up her plate with lean, - Not knowing that all lean was hateful to her. - And day by day she thought to tell him o't, - And watched the fat go out with envious eye, - But could not speak for bashful delicacy. - - At last it chanced that on a winter day, - The beef--a prize joint!--little was but fat; - So fat, that John had all his work cut out, - To snip out lean in fragments for his wife, - Leaving, in very sooth, none for himself; - Which seeing, she spoke courage to her soul, - Took up her fork, and, pointing to the joint - Where 'twas the fattest, piteously she said: - "O, husband! full of love and tenderness! - What is the cause that you so jealously - Pick out the lean for me? I like it not! - Nay! loathe it--'tis on the fat that I would feast; - O me, I fear you do not like my taste!" - Then he, dropping his horny-handled carving knife, - Sprinkling therewith the gravy o'er her gown, - Answer'd, amazed: "What! you like fat, my wife! - And never told me. O, this is not kind! - Think what your reticence has wrought for us: - How all the fat sent down unto the maid-- - Who likes not fat--for such maids never do-- - Has been put in the waste-tub, sold for grease, - And pocketed as servants' perquisite! - O, wife! this news is good; for since, perforce, - A joint must be nor fat nor lean, but both; - Our different tastes will serve our purpose well; - For, while you eat the fat--the lean to me - Falls as my cherished portion. Lo! 'tis good!" - So henceforth--he that tells the tale relates-- - In John Sprat's household waste was quite unknown; - For he the lean did eat, and she the fat, - And thus the dinner-platter was all cleared. - - _The Figaro_, February 12, 1873. - - * * * * * - - -THE PASSING OF M'ARTHUR. - -(_An Idyll of the Ninth of November_). - - So through the morn the noise of bustle roll'd - About the precincts of the Mansion House, - Until at last M'Arthur, the Lord Mayor, - Was with his Secretary left alone. - - Then Mayor M'Arthur to Sir Soulsby spake: - "The sequel of to-day doth terminate - The goodliest series of civic jaunts - Whereof my mind holds record. Of a truth, - It was a glorious time! I think that I - Shall never more, in any future year, - Delight my soul with welcoming to feasts, - And taking chairs, as in the year just gone; - For my Chief Magistracy perisheth. - But now delay not! to the window run, - Watch what thou see'st, and lightly bring me word." - - Then did the bold Sir Soulsby answer make: - "No call have I to follow thy behest; - Look for thyself--thine eyes are good as mine!" - - To whom replied M'Arthur, much in wrath: - "Ah, miserable and unkind, and untrue, - Ungrateful Secretary! Woe is me! - Authority forgets the late Lord Mayor, - When he lies widow'd of official pow'r - That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art; - Thou think'st with thine old master to have done, - And wouldst neglect him for the new forthwith. - Yet, for a man may fail in duty once - And presently repent him, get thee hence: - But if thou spare to go and bring me word, - I will arise and clout thee with my hands." - - Then quickly rose Sir Soulsby, and he ran - To the great window by the street, and cried: - "Your lordship, I perceive a gallant coach, - Drawn by four glossy horses, waits below, - With well-fed coachman sitting on the box. - And gold-laced lackeys hanging on behind." - - Then groaned M'Arthur, "Take me to the coach," - So to the coach they came. There lackeys three - Leap'd to the ground, and seized his Lordship's arms, - And hitch'd him up, and closely shut the door. - - Then loudly did the bold Sir Soulsby cry: - "Ah! my Lord Mayor M'Arthur, dost thou go? - Shall I not show my sorrow in my eyes? - For now I see thy glorious time is dead, - When every morning brought some famous scheme, - And every scheme resulted in success. - Such time hath not been since I first became, - A sort of fixture in the Mansion House. - But now thy term of office hath expired, - And I no longer serving thee, must stay - To travail 'mong new faces, other minds." - - Slowly M'Arthur answer'd from the coach: - "The old Mayor changeth, yielding place to new, - Lest one good citizen have all the fun. - Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? - My reign is o'er, nor may it do thee harm - If thou dost never see my face again. - But now farewell. I am going a long way - With these thou see'st--if, indeed, we can - (For narrow and becrowded is the route)-- - Before the new Lord Mayor to Westminster, - Where many worthies are awaiting us; - Thence the brave Show must citywards return - To be dissolved at the famed Guildhall, - And I at length in limbo shall repose-- - Limbo of Aldermen who've passed the chair." - - So said he; and the gallant coach-and-four - Moved off, like some prodigious equipage - That seems quite natural in pantomime, - But strange in real life. Sir Soulsby stood - Long meditating, till the gold cock'd hats - Those lackeys wore, looked like a single spark, - And down Cheapside the cheering died away. - - _The St. James's Gazette_, November 9, 1881. - - * * * * * - - -GARNET. - -(_An Idyll of the Queen_). - - GARNET the Brave, GARNET the Fortunate, - GARNET the Victor, made by Ashantee, - Heard once again War's summons to the East, - Heard and rejoiced, and straightway set himself - To strenuous strife, and subtle shift, to toil - All-various, and the crowning of his fame, - - For from the sand-flats hard by Nilus' shore - Arose Rebellion's clamant voice, rang out - The cry of slaughtered Britons, echoed soon - By thunderous bellowing of brave BEAUCHAMP'S guns. - Then peaceful GLADSTONE sudden stood and smote - With rounded fist the Council-board, as though - It were the Commons' Table, and his foe, - DIZZY, once more before him, smote and cried, - "By Jingo, this _won't_ do!!!"--lapsing in heat - To passing invocation of a name - Late odious in his ears. Whereon arose - Conflicting chorussings of praise and blame-- - This atrabilious, half-ironic that-- - From doubting Tories, dubious Liberals, - Much-gibing GREENWOOD, pert, implacable; - And peevish PASSMORE, sourly posing sole - As Abdiel--with the hump. - But GARNET, glad - With a great gladness Sand-boys may not match, - And cheer beyond the chirping cricket's, set - His face toward far Pharaoh-land, where still, - Pyramid-perched, the Forty Centuries - Of the thrasonic Corsican looked down, - Twigging the coming Pocket-Cæsar. - - * * * * * - - _Punch_, October 7, 1882. - - * * * * * - - -JACK SPRATT. - -(_After Tennyson_). - - Within the limits of well-ordered law - They lived, this thrifty squire and eke his spouse; - No discord marred the genial dinner hour, - Where union rooted in dis-union stood, - And tastes divergent served the end in view; - What he would not, she would, what she not, he; - So in all courtesie the meal progressed - And soon the viands wholly passed from sight. - - J. M. LOWRY, 1884. - - * * * * * - -The plot of the Idyll, "Gareth and Lynnette," was given, in burlesque -style, by Mr. Martin Wood in "The Bath and Cheltenham Gazette" shortly -after the appearance of the original. - -"The Quest of the Holy Poker," a parody in blank verse appeared in -_Punch_, March 5, 1870. - -Three long Idyllic parodies, entitled "Willie and Minnie" appeared in -_Kottabos_, a Trinity College magazine, published in Dublin by Mr. W. -McGee, in 1876. - -_The St. Paul's Magazine_ of January, 1872, contained a most amusing -political Idyll, entitled "_The Latest Tournament_"--an Idyll of the Queen -(respectfully inscribed to Alfred Tennyson, Esq., Poet Laureate). This -parody, which consists of nearly 400 lines, describes, in a mock-heroic -style, all the principal political celebrities of the day, its satire -being aimed at the supposed Republican tendencies of the Liberal party. - -"The Prince's Noses," a modern Idyll, by W. J. Linton, a parody of -Tennyson's blank verse, appeared in _Scribner's Monthly Magazine_, April, -1880. - -_Punch_, May 27, 1882, contained a poem entitled "On the Hill; or, -Tennysonian Fragments, picked up near the Grand Stand." This was an -imitation of style only. - -"Tory Revels" (_slightly altered from Tennyson_) in _Punch_, August 26, -1882, commenced thus:-- - - "SIR GYPES TOLLODDLE, all an Autumn day, - Gave his broad, breezy lands, till set of sun, - Up to the Tories." - -and described a Conservative political picnic. It concluded:-- - - "Then there were fireworks; and overhead - SIR GYPES TOLLODDLE'S aisles of lofty limes - Made noise with beer and bunkum, and with squibs." - -_The Wheel World_, October, 1882, contained a long parody, entitled -"London to Leicester; a Bicycling Idyl, by Talfred Ennyson (Poet Laureate -to the Mental Wanderers, B.C.)" This is written in very blank verse, and -is chiefly interesting to 'Cyclists. - -_Pastime_, June 29, 1883, contained "TENNIS, a Fragment of the Lost -Tennisiad," and July 27, 1883, "The Lay of the Seventh Tournament," both -being parodies of Tennyson's "Idylls of the King." - -The small detached poems which Lord Tennyson has written for the magazines -of late years, have been the cause of numerous and very unflattering -parodies. - -The following "Prefatory Poem," by Alfred Tennyson, appeared in the first -number of the "Nineteenth Century," published in March, 1877, by Messrs. -Henry S. King and Co., London:-- - - Those that of late had fleeted far and fast - To touch all shores, now leaving to the skill - Of others their old craft, seaworthy still, - Have charter'd this; where mindful of the past, - Our true co-mates regather round the mast; - Of diverse tongue, but with a common will, - Here, in this roaring moon of daffodil - And crocus, to put forth and brave the blast; - For some descending from the sacred peak - Of hoar, high-templed faith, have leagued again - Their lot with ours, to rove the world about; - And some are wilder comrades, sworn to seek - If any golden harbour be for men - In seas of Death and sunless gulfs of Doubt. - -Upon which Mr. John Whyte (of the Public Library, Inverness) wrote the -following:-- - - "I felt sure on reading the above lines that I had seen among my - papers something nearly as prosy. The following is, I consider, not - only quite as stiff as the foregoing, but it seems to me to prove - beyond question that the one was suggested by the other. Whether the - Poet Laureate or the author of 'The Last Hat' is the plagiarist, I - leave others to decide. - - -THE LAST HAT LEFT. - - Those low-born cubs who sneaked away so fast, - Have picked all the best hats, and left the worst - To others. For their craft may they be cursed - Who left me this! I mind me of the past-- - I stalked along, and felt tall as a mast, - In my new beaver; with this bashed old pot, - Under the shining moon, like seedy sot, - I must go creeping forth, or brave the blast - Bareheaded. Should I chance to meet the _beak_, - I swear by faith, I'll send him on their trail; - The lot we'll follow the old world about, - Among their wilder comrades, sworn to seek - And find the thief; their doom be, if we fail-- - Disease and death--long years of mumps and gout!" - - * * * * * - - -THE CITY MONTENEGRO. - -(_One More Sonnet for the Laureate's New Book_). - -(_Apropos_ of the hideous obstruction which marks the site of old Temple -Bar, and remarkable as being a very close parody of Tennyson's sonnet on -"Montenegro," which appeared in the Nineteenth Century, May, 1877). - - I rose to show them a half-sovran tail, - To turn to chaff their "freedom" on this height, - Grim, comic, savage; worse by day and night - Than any Turk: yet here, all over scale, - I watch the passer as his footsteps fail, - With dauntless hundreds struggling main and might - To cross,--the one policeman out of sight,-- - And reach this haven where the strongest quail. - - O, smallest among steeples! Precious throne - Of Freedom! Why, I merely swell the swarm - That surge and seethe in curses and in tears! - Great Gog and Magog! Never since thine own - Odd dodges drew the cloud and brake the storm, - Have you produced a mightier crop of jeers! - - _Punch_, December 11, 1880. - - * * * * * - - -RIZPAH, 1883. - -(_Written expressly for this collection_). - - Railing, railing, railing, the crowd from town and lea, - When William's voice was heard, "O poet a peer to be!" - "Why should he call me, I wonder, in that high-born house to go, - For my politics won't bear searching, and my creed's rather mixed, - you know? - - "We should be laughed at, my William, 'twould be the jest of the town; - Even the knights would jeer, and the press sure to cry it down. - Why, I can but rule my own land; when I tried awhile for the stage, - I only drew empty houses, in this cynical latter age. - - "Anything failed again? Nay, what is there left to fail?-- - 'Harold,' or 'Mary,' or 'May,' or even the 'Lover's Tale?' - What am I saying, and why? fails!--that must be a lie! - Fails--what fails?--not my faith in play writing, not I. - - "Why will you call up here?--who are you?--what have you heard - That you all sit so solemn and quiet?--nobody's spoken a word. - O, to make of me--yes, his lordship! none of the scribbling crew - Have crept in by their rhymes before, as I have dared to do. - - "Ah! you that have lived so soft, what do you know of the spite, - The cutting and slashing critiques that the wretched papers write? - I have known it; when you were amused in the stalls the first - night of a play, - And chattered and gossipped together, and forgot it the very next day. - - "Nay, but it's kind of you, William, to gild my declining life, - And make me a peer, a baron, above all this petty strife; - But I haven't left off scribbling, and shall not--no, not I; - But I'll write whenever I will, for the public's sure to buy. - - "I whipt Miss Bulwer for jeering, and gave it him, slightly riled, - For mocking at me, or my poems, has always driven me wild. - To be idle--I couldn't be idle--I do not write for a whim, - And a guinea a line is better than a short "Italian Hymn." - - "So, William, I thank you gladly; I think you meant to be kind; - And I will not heed the mob, whilst they'll very quickly find - The poems will read as well by a Lord as ever they did before, - And the publishers sell more copies, and more, and more, and more. - See how it reads for yourself, to be stuck up on every wall, - Lord Tennyson's Poems complete, in a specially printed Vol." - - W. - -_The Nineteenth Century_ for November, 1881, contained a very -uncomfortable kind of poem, by Tennyson, entitled "DESPAIR, a Dramatic -Monologue." The argument of the poem was that "a man and his wife having -lost faith in a God, and hope of a life to come, and being utterly -miserable in this, resolve to end themselves by drowning. The woman -is drowned, but the man is rescued by a minister of the sect he had -abandoned." - -_The Fortnightly Review_ of the following month contained a parody which -not only turned inside out the arguments of the original poem, but was so -exquisitely worded as a burlesque that it was by many attributed to the -pen of no less a poet than Mr. A. C. Swinburne. - - -DISGUST: A DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE. - - (A woman and her husband, having been converted from free thought to - Calvinism, and being utterly miserable in consequence, resolve to - end themselves by poison. The man dies, but the woman is rescued by - application of the stomach-pump). - -I. - - PILLS? talk to me of your pills? Well, that, I must say is cool. - Can't bring my old man round? he was always a stubborn old fool. - If I hadn't taken precautions--a warning to all that wive-- - He might not have been dead, and I might not have been alive. - -II. - - You would like to know, if I please, how it was that our troubles - began? - You see, we were brought up Agnostics, I and my poor old man. - And we got some idea of selection and evolution, you know-- - Professor Huxley's doing--where does he expect to go! - -III. - - Well, then came trouble on trouble on trouble--I may say, a peck-- - And his cousin was wanted one day on the charge of forging a cheque-- - And his puppy died of the mange--my parrot choked on its perch. - This was the consequence, was it, of not going weekly to church? - -IV. - - So we felt that the best if not only thing that remained to be done - On an earth everlastingly moving about a perpetual sun, - Where worms breed worms to be eaten of worms that have eaten their - betters-- - And reviewers are barely civil--and people get spiteful letters-- - And a famous man is forgot ere the minute hand can tick nine-- - Was to send in our P.P.C., and purchase a packet of strychnine. - -V. - - Nay--but first we thought it was rational--only fair-- - To give both parties a hearing--and went to the meeting-house there, - At the curve of the street that runs from the Stag to the old Blue - Lion. - "Little Zion" they call it--a deal more "little" than "Zion." - -VI. - - And the preacher preached from the text, "Come out of her." Hadn't - we come? - And we thought of the Shepherd in Pickwick--and fancied a flavour of - rum - Balmily borne on the wind of his words--and my man said, "Well, - Let's get out of this, my dear--for his text has a brimstone smell." - -VII. - - So we went, O God, out of chapel--and gazed, ah God, at the sea. - And I said nothing to him. And he said nothing to me. - -VIII. - - And there, you see, was an end of it all. It was obvious, in fact, - That, whether or not you believe in the doctrine taught in a tract, - Life was not in the least worth living. Because, don't you see? - Nothing that can't be, can, and what must be, must. Q.E.D. - And the infinitesimal sources of Infinite Unideality - Curve in to the central abyss of a sort of a queer Personality. - Whose refraction is felt in the nebulæ strewn in the pathway of Mars - Like the pairings of nails Æonian--clippings and snippings of stars-- - Shavings of suns that revolve and evolve and involve--and at times - Give a sweet astronomical twang to remarkably hobbling rhymes. - -IX. - - And the sea curved in with a moan--and we thought how once--before - We fell out with those atheist lecturers--once, ah, once and no more, - We read together, while midnight blazed like the Yankee flag, - A reverend gentleman's work--the Conversion of Colonel Quagg. - And out of its pages we gathered this lesson of doctrine pure-- - Zephaniah Stockdolloger's gospel--a word that deserves to endure - Infinite millions on millions of Infinite Æons to come-- - "Vocation," says he, "is vocation, and duty duty. Some." - -X. - - And duty, said I, distinctly points out--and vocation, said he, - Demands as distinctly--that I should kill you, and that you should - kill me. - The reason is obvious--we cannot exist without creeds--who can? - So we went to the chemist's--a highly respectable church-going man-- - And bought two packets of poison. You wouldn't have done so. Wait. - It's evident, Providence is not with you, ma'am, the same thing as - Fate. - Unconscious cerebration educes God from a fog, - But spell God backwards, what then? Give it up? the answer is, dog. - (I don't exactly see how this last verse is to scan, - But that's a consideration I leave to the secular man). - -XI. - - I meant of course to go with him--as far as I pleased--but first - To see how my old man liked it--I thought perhaps he might burst. - I didn't wish it--but still it's a blessed release for a wife-- - And he saw that I thought so--and grinned in derision--and threatened - my life - If I made wry faces--and so I took just a sip--and he-- - Well--you know how it ended--he didn't get over me. - -XII. - - Terrible, isn't it? Still, on reflection, it might have been worse. - He might have been the unhappy survivor, and followed my hearse. - "Never do it again?" Why, certainly not. You don't - Suppose I should think of it, surely? But anyhow--there--I won't. - - * * * * * - -There still remain a great many parodies of Tennyson's poems to be quoted, -and every day increases their number. It will, therefore, be necessary -to return to this author in some future part of this collection; the -following references are given to some of the more easily accessible -parodies, which space will not now permit me to quote in full:-- - -"Edinburgh Sketches and Miscellanies." By Eric. Edinburgh and Glasgow: -John Menzies and Company, 1876, contains _Codger's Hall_, a long and -humorous parody of _Locksley Hall;_ Once a Week, Echoes from the Clubs, -and The Weekly Dispatch, October 19, 1884, also contained parodies of the -same poem. - -_Lady Clara Vere de Vere_ was the subject of an advertising parody, of -which the best verse ran:-- - - "Lady Clara Vere de Vere, - You put strange fancies in my head! - Do you remember that rich silk - You wore last year at Maidenhead? - Now "velveteen" is all the go; - 'Tis richer far, and costs much less, - The lion on your old stone gates - Is not more ancient than that dress." - -whilst the Charge of the Light Brigade was thus imitated by a Birmingham -tea-dealer:-- - - "Half a League! Half a League! - Half a League, onward! - Into Gant's tea shop - Walk many hundred. - Tea is the people's cry, - Which is the kind to buy? - Gant's at Two Shillings try, - Say many hundred! - Tea-men to right of us, - Tea-men to left of us, - Grocers all round us, - Find they have blundered." - -There was another parody on the Charge of the Light Brigade, in _Punch_, -December 19, 1868. - -"The Song of the 'Skyed' one, as sung at the Academy on the first Monday -in May," was a parody, in ten verses, commencing:-- - - Awake I must, and early, a proceeding that I hate, - And cab it to Trafalgar Square, and ascertain my fate; - For to-morrow's the Art-Derby, the looked-for opening day - Of the Fine Art Exhibition, yearly shown by the R.A. - -This appeared in _Punch_, May 11, 1861. - -_The May Queen_ was also imitated in a poem contained in _Modern Society_, -March 29, 1884. It was entitled "Baron Honour," and was a very severe, and -rather vulgar, skit on Lord Tennyson's adulation of the Royal Family. - -In _The Weekly Dispatch_, September 9, 1883, five parodies were printed -in a competition to anticipate the Poet Laureate's expected poem in -commemoration of the late John Brown; a subject on which, however, Lord -Tennyson has not as yet published a poem. In the same newspaper six -parodies of _Hands All Round_ were inserted on April 2, 1882. - -These were very entertaining, and were severally entitled: "Pots all -Round;" "Tennysonian Toryism Developed;" "Drinks all Round;" "Cheers all -Round;" "Hands all Round (with the mask off)"; and "Howls all Round." - -_Truth_, February 14, 1884, contained a parody entitled "In Memoriam; a -Collie Dog." _Punch_ also had a parody with the title "In Memoriam" on -July 9, 1864. - -"The Two Voices, as heard by Jones of the Treasury about Vacation time," -was the title of a long parody in _Punch_, September 7, 1861. - -There was also a political parody, on the same original, in _Punch_, May -11, 1878. - -"Recollections of the Stock Exchange," a long parody of _Recollections -of the Arabian Nights_, and dealing with the topic of Turkish Stocks, -appeared in _Punch_, December 18, 1875. - -"The Duchess's Song," after Tennyson, was in _Punch_, September 3, 1881; -and _British Birds_, by Mortimer Collins (1878), contained, amongst -others, a capital parody of Tennyson. - - * * * * * - - -THE POETASTERS: A DRAMATIC CANTATA. - -_Chorus of Poetasters._ - - An itch of rhymes has seized the times - Till every cobbler's turned a poet, - And he who taught the secret ought - In justice to be made to know it. - Rhyme, brothers, rhyme, vast odes and epics vaster, - And post them to the Master, Master, Master. - - Bards, pour your benison on Baron Tennyson, - Who vulgarised the art of rhyming, - And set the twaddle that fills each noddle - In endless jingle-jangle chiming: - Rhyme, brothers, rhyme, each puling poetaster, - And inundate the Master, Master, Master. - - _Recitative and Aria: Lord Tennyson._ - Bards, idle bards, I know not what ye mean! - Words powerfully expressive of despair - Rise to my lips and flash from out my eyes - In looking o'er the reams each post-bag yields. - But, mark me, I'll return the stuff no more. - - When morning sees the groaning board - With my baronial breakfast spread-- - With bacon crisp and snow-white bread, - And fragrant coffee freshly poured. - - I greet with joy the cheerful sight, - When, hark! there comes the postman's knock: - I thrill as with a lightning shock - And bid adieu to appetite. - - For song and stave and madrigal - Make dark to me the opening day, - And sonnet, ode, and roundelay - Sink on my spirit like a pall. - - And lunch-time brings another host, - At each delivery they throng, - While any hour may bring along - Three tragedies by parcels-post; - - And twelve-book epics ton on ton, - Each with its laudatory ode - Of drivelling dedications, load - The vans of Carter, Paterson. - - I can nor eat, nor drink, nor sleep - In peace; I vow that from to-day - I'll have them carted straight away - Unopened to the rubbish-heap. - - Call in the dustman!--Lo! 'tis done! - The contract signed, I breathe again. - Come, load at once thy lingering wain - Blest henchman of oblivion! - - _Finale: Chorus of Poetasters._ - Not return nor e'en acknowledge! - Dares he treat our verses thus? - Knows he not the might malignant - Of a poetaster's "cuss?" - Dreads he not our "spiteful letters," - Epigrams, satiric skits? - Let him learn that would-be poets - Also shine as would-be wits. - Who is he to scorn our verses? - British taxpayers are we; - Is he not the Poet Laureate? - Don't we stand his salary? - Straightway we'll transfer allegiance - To some other, blander bard, - Whom no paltry peerage renders - Uppish, arrogant, and hard. - Mr. Browning, for example, - Won't treat brother poets thus. - Though we may not understand him, - Doubtless he'll appreciate us; - He'll return with mild laudation - Our effusions every one. - Poetasters, snap your fingers - At the played-out Tennyson! - - W. A. - - _St. James's Gazette_, June 24, 1884. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 9: Alluding to Napoleon III.] - -[Footnote 10: Suggested by a paragraph in _The Times_, November, 1859.] - -[Footnote 11: The Lawn Tennis Annual.] - -[Footnote 12: Sir Peter Laurie had endeavoured to put down the sale of -plaster casts of nude figures by the Italian image boys in the streets.] - -[Footnote 13: Lord John Russell.] - - - - -The Reverend Charles Wolfe. - - -Since the June and July parts were published containing parodies on "The -Burial of Sir John Moore," _Truth_ has had a Parody Competition with that -poem as the selected original. The Editor of _Truth_ published no less -than twenty-four parodies, many of which were very amusing. - -Some of the best are given complete, with a few extracts from the -remainder:-- - - -PARODIES OF "THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE." - - -THE DEATH OF THE "CHILDERSES." - - Not half-sovereigns were we, but ten-shilling bits, - The thin, jaundiced children of Childers; - To name us the public were put to their wits, - As some called us "Guilders," some "Gilders." - - We buried our heads in our cradle, the Mint, - And were sparingly fed by our nurses; - In our life, which was brief, we received without stint - Abuse, imprecations, and curses. - - No useless retorts did we ever return - To those who so coldly received us: - But we patiently bore each contemptuous spurn, - Till sweet death in his mercy relieved us. - - Few and short were our moments on earth, - And they were brief snatches of sorrow; - Our parents were told at the time of our birth, - We were only for idiots to borrow. - - We thought, as we lay in our embryo mould, - Of the fun we should have when grown older; - But we learnt that all glittering things are not gold, - That a "gilder" is hardly a "golder." - - Lightly they talked of our humble alloy, - And how we were base and degraded; - And tried in all possible ways to annoy - Our lives, which already were faded. - - Though half our heavy blows and kicks, - We never thought once of returning; - We passed over the "Styx" without passing the "Pyx," - Or the wonders of life ever learning. - - Slowly but gladly, too tired to laugh, - We made room for the use of our betters; - Heavy our grave-stone, and our epitaph - Was a column of newspaper letters. - - DALETH. - - -THE BURIAL OF THE SEASON. - - Not a "drum" was given, nor dance of note, - From the "course" at fair Goodwood we'd hurried; - Not a soul here but uttered farewell, and shot - Out of town, looking jaded and worried. - - * * * * * - - And lightly they'll talk of the "Master" that's gone, - And o'er his own "Hashes" abuse him; - But little he'll reck, if they'll let him sail on - In the yacht which was built to amuse him! - - But half of our heavy trunks were down, - When the clock struck the hour for departing; - And we heard the distant discordant groan - Of the engine ready for starting! - - Slowly and smoothly we glided out - Of the station so grim and so gritty; - We cared not a doit, and we raised not a doubt, - For we'd left care behind in the "city!" - - ORCHIS. - - -THE BURIAL OF MY FELLOW LODGER'S BANJO. - - Not a "strum" was heard, not a tune or a note, - As his chords to the damp earth I hurried; - Not a soul there was by when I stripped off my coat, - O'er the grave where the banjo I buried. - - I buried it darkly at dead of night, - The sods with a fire shovel turning. - My heart throbbing fast with a wild delight, - And revenge in my heart fiercely burning. - - No useless fingers I close to it pressed, - Not as much as once did I sound it, - But I laid it gently down to its rest, - With a _Daily News_ wrapped round it. - - * * * * * - - Quickly and gladly I laid it down - To a place where no more it could worry, - I stirred not a twine and I raised not a tone, - But I silently left in my glory. - - GARRYOWEN JACK. - - -THE FATE OF GENERAL GORDON. - - Not a drum was heard, not a martial note, - As our Gordon to Khartoum was hurried; - But into the desert our hero we shot, - And there in the desert he's buried. - - No useful soldiers were with him sent, - Neither horseman nor footman we found him; - But alone, on a camel, our warrior went, - With the foe and the desert all round him. - - Few and short were the prayers he made, - Not a word of complaint or of sorrow; - But we coldly declined to give him our aid, - And told him to wait--till "to-morrow!" - - And he thought as he lay on his anxious bed, - Or the foe-threatened city defended: - "'Tis plain that the men who are over my head - Have ideas I've not quite comprehended." - - And lightly men talk of his fanatic ways, - Because life and wealth he nought reckons; - But little he recks of their blame or their praise, - And goes straight where his own honour beckons. - - Not half of his heavy task is done, - That of "rescuing and retiring"-- - He will not retire, for he has rescued none, - And thousands upon him are firing. - - Slowly and sadly I lay my pen down, - 'Tis a mean and pitiful story; - God grant we mayn't have to carve on his stone, - "England left him alone in his glory." - - GUINEA PIG. - - -THE FUNERAL OF ONE MORE VICTIM AT MONTE CARLO. - - Not a franc he had, not a louis nor note, - As forth from the tables he hurried; - Resolved to discharge one fatal shot, - And leave his corpse to be buried. - - They buried him deeply at dead of night, - The soil with their mattocks turning; - When the sinking moon refused her light, - And the lamps had ceased from burning. - - A useful coffin enclosed his breast, - Which the Administration found him; - And he lay like a suicide sadly at rest, - With none of his friends around him. - - * * * * * - - Silent and secret they left him there, - The wound in his head fresh and gory; - Replaced all the plants and the shrubs as they were, - And hoped to discredit the story. - - JANE KENNEDY. - - -THE BURIAL OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. - - THE drums were heard, and the funeral notes, - As his corpse to the City was carried; - The soldiers discharged their farewell shots, - Near the grave where our hero we buried. - - We buried him grandly in noon's full light, - The clay to earth's bosom returning; - With the cheerful sunbeams shining bright, - And within the lantern burning. - - Three costly coffins encased his breast, - (In sheet and in shroud they had wound him); - And he lay like a conqueror taking his rest - With his marshal compeers round him. - - Many and long were the prayers we said, - And we murmured last words of sorrow; - As we steadfastly gazed on the grave of the dead, - And we sighed, "Who will lead us to-morrow?" - - We thought as they filled in his narrow bed, - Of his struggles across the billows; - And we dreamt that all ages would honour the dead, - As a Captain above his fellows. - - Lightly men speak of him now that he's gone, - And grudge e'en the recompense paid him: - But little he'll reck if they'll let him sleep on, - In the tomb where a grateful land laid him. - - At length our grievous task was done, - And the masses were slowly retiring, - And the clangour ceased of the minute gun, - That for hours had been steadily firing. - - Solemnly, sadly, we left him alone, - With his roll of deeds famous in story; - We carved him a trophy, we praised him in stone, - And to-day--we've forgotten his glory! - - OBSERVER. - - -THE BURIAL OF THE BACHELOR. - - NOT a laugh was heard, not a frivolous note, - As the groom to the wedding we carried; - Not a jester discharged his farewell shot - As the bachelor went to be married. - - We married him quickly that morning bright, - The leaves of our Prayer-books turning, - In the chancel's dimly religious light; - And tears in our eyelids burning. - - No useless nosegay adorned his chest, - Not in chains, but in laws we bound him; - And he looked like a bridegroom trying his best - To look used to the scene around him. - - Few and small were the fees it cost, - And we spoke not a word of sorrow; - But we silently gazed on the face of the lost, - And we bitterly thought of the morrow. - - We thought as we hurried them home to be fed, - And tried our low spirits to rally, - That the weather looked very like squalls overhead - For the passage from Dover to Calais. - - Lightly they'll talk of the bachelor gone, - And o'er his frail fondness upbraid him; - But little he'll reck if they let him alone, - With his wife that the parson has made him! - - But half of our heavy lunch was done - When the clock struck the hour for retiring; - And we judged from the knocks which had now begun, - That their cabby was rapidly tiring. - - Slowly and sadly we led them down, - From the scene of his lame oratory; - We told the four-wheeler to drive them to town, - And we left them alone in their glory! - - YELRAP. - - -THE MARRIAGE OF SIR FREDERICK BOORE. - - NOT a laugh was heard, not a time-worn jest, - In the brougham in which we were carried; - Not one displayed himself at his best, - For our friend was going to be married. - - * * * * * - - Calmly and sadly we stood that day, - To the sorrowful end of the story; - But when all was o'er he hurried away, - And left us alone in our glory. - - HOCKWOOD. - - -A VISIT OF WORKING MEN TO THE HEALTH EXHIBITION. - - NOT a grumble was heard, not a guttural note, - As we off to the Healtheries hurried; - Not a cove of the party, but paid his shot, - Though the seedy young man appeared flurried. - - * * * * * - - Slowly and sadly we dawdled down - From the Doultons, and dresses, and dairies, - We carved not a name, we grazed not a stone, - But went straight to our alleys and "aireys." - - BOB RIDLEY. - - -THE REMOVAL OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS. - - NOT a sound was heard but a general drone, - As remorselessly onwards we hurried; - Not a soul but discharged a farewell groan - For the House where those zeros erst worried. - - * * * * * - - But after our pleasant task was done, - When the clock struck the hour for assembling, - We stood in the distance and scanned the fun, - As the Lords came suddenly trembling. - - Joyously, gladly, we heard them bemoan - The fate of their famed upper storey; - We'd moved every stick and we'd razed every stone, - And bereft them of home and of glory. - - ESTRELLA. - - -THE SPINSTER HOUSEHOLDER MARTYR, OR THE MAN IN POSSESSION. - - NOT a sigh was heard, not a funeral note, - As the malice of Gladstone she parried: - "No taxes from me; I pay not a shot!" - So her furniture off was carried. - - They carried it darkly--a deed of night, - For desk, tables, and chairs oft returning, - By the struggling moonbeams' misty light, - And a lantern dimly burning. - - The man in possession ate, drank of her best, - In well-aired holland sheets he wound him; - And he lay like a warrior taking his rest, - With his pipe alight--confound him! - - Few and short were the prayers he said, - And he spoke not a word of sorrow; - And he steadfastly smoked till Jane wished him dead, - As she bitterly thought of the morrow. - - He chaffed the girl thus: "When you makes my bed, - And smoothes down my lonely pillow, - Don't you go for a stranger, nor wish me dead, - If you don't want to wear the willow." - - Lightly he talked when the "spirits" were gone, - For pipe-ashes why should she upbraid him? - But little he'd spy if she'd let him smoke on, - In the bed where Britannia had laid him. - - But half of the tyrant's task was done, - When the clock told the hour for retiring; - The minion quailed at the sound of the gun, - Which to signal her triumph was firing. - - Of that spinster householder martyr's crown, - O, never shall perish the story: - Her friends paid her taxes, she had the renown-- - Thus we leave her alone in her glory! - - J. MCGRIGOR ALLAN. - -All the above are from _Truth_, July 31, 1884. - - -THE MURDER OF A BEETHOVEN SONATA. - -(Executed by Miss----) - - SUCH a strum was heard--not a single right note, - When to make you play every one worried; - Yet I would not discharge one satirical shot - As to the piano you hurried. - - You hurried so quickly, 'twas scarcely right, - I knew not the piece you'd been learning; - But I saw by the flickering candle-light - Your cheeks were with nervousness burning. - - No useless music encumbered the rest; - No pieces had any one found you; - But you played it by heart, no doubt doing your best, - Though the people would talk around you. - - Dreary and long was the thing you played, - And we listened in suffering sorrow; - And I thought to myself that, if any one stayed, - You'd have finished, no doubt, by the morrow. - - Lightly they'll talk of the piece when it's done, - And wonder whoe'er could have made it; - But nothing she'll reck if they let her strum on - At the piece till she's thoroughly played it. - - When you'd made but some fifty mistakes, or more, - And no more such torture requiring, - I managed to get to the open door, - And succeeded in quickly retiring. - - I've but one thing more in conclusion to say, - Though you no doubt will think it a story; - 'Tis this, that no matter wherever you play, - You will get neither money nor glory! - - MOZART. - - -THE BURIAL OF THE PAUPER. - - NOT a knell was heard, not a requiem note, - As his corpse to the churchyard we hurried; - Not a mourner had donned his sable coat, - By the grave where our pauper we buried. - - We buried him quickly at shut of night, - The sods with our keen shovels turning; - By the closing day's last glimmering light, - And the lantern palely burning. - - No oaken coffin enclosed his breast, - In a sheet for a shroud we wound him: - And he lay as a pauper should, taking his rest, - With his four deal planks nailed around him. - - Few and short were the prayers we said, - And we shed not a tear of sorrow; - But we carelessly looked on the face of the dead, - And we heedlessly thought of the morrow. - - We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed, - And smooth'd down its green turf billow; - That haply a stranger would lay a wan head - To-night on his tenantless pillow. - - Lightly they'll talk of the poor soul that's gone - At the "House," and maybe they'll upbraid him, - But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on - In the grave where his parish has laid him. - - But half of our thankless job was done, - When the cold sky grew sullen and low'ring; - And the raindrops came pattering one by one, - And soon all the heavens were pouring. - - Swiftly and smoothly we sodded him down, - In his last bed of shame, gaunt and hoary; - We raised not a cross, and we scored not a stone, - But we left him to earth with his story. - - SEFTON. - -"These gentlemen (the Tory party) can really get no sleep at night, owing -to their burning anxiety to enfranchise their fellow men."--_Vide_ Sir -Wilfrid Lawson's Speech. - - Not a snore was heard, not a slumberous note, - For my Lords are too awfully worried; - Not a Peer but bewails the Bill's sad lot, - Tho' he feels that it musn't be hurried. - - They think of it sadly, at dead of night, - The thing in their mind's eye turning, - By the somewhat foggy, misty light - In their noble bosoms burning. - - No useless logic confused their heads, - 'Tis but little they ever heed it; - But they tossed and they turned on their sleepless beds, - And one and all they d----d it. - - "Few and short were the prayers they said"-- - The fact I record with sorrow; - They thought of the day when the Bill would be read, - And they wished there were _no_ to-morrow. - - They thought of the words Mr. Gladstone had said-- - Each word was a thorn in their pillow-- - Of laurels that still would encircle _his_ head, - While they would be wearing the willow. - - Nightly they burn for their brothers to be - Enfranchised, as they would have made 'em; - And little they'll reck, till the "rustic" be free, - Of how a cold world may upbraid 'em. - - But half of the weary night was gone, - And my Lords were still busy enquiring, - "The deuce, now! the deuce! what IS to be done? - And they found that the effort was tiring. - - Slowly and sadly they laid them down, - And they murmured the old, old story, - "We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, - But we MUST have a share in the glory!" - - DARBY. - - -A MEMBER OF A DEFEATED CRICKET ELEVEN _loq._ - - NOT a ball was missed, not a catch uncaught, - As the course 'tween the wickets we scurried; - Not a fielder but was a famous shot, - At the stumps, whither, backward, we hurried, - - We slogged the ball wildly with all our might, - The sods with our willow-bats turning: - But the leather was caught, and held so tight, - And our cheeks with shame were burning. - - No useless figures my scoring blest, - Not in cut or in drive I found them; - But they lay like the egg of the duck in a nest, - With a line drawn all around them. - - Few, too few, were the runs we could claim, - And we spoke many words of sorrow, - And we steadfastly gazed on the state of the game, - As we bitterly thought of the morrow. - - We thought as we watched how our wickets fell, - And reckoned the meagre scoring, - That the foe and the stranger would thrash us all well, - And we, far behind them, deploring. - - Lightly they'll think of the runs we've put on, - And o'er a cold luncheon upbraid us; - But little we'd reck if bad weather came on, - And the rain further playing forbade us. - - But half of our heavy task was done, - When the clock struck the hour for refraining; - And we saw by the distant and setting sun, - That the light was steadily waning. - - Slowly and sadly did we disappear, - From the field of our shame-laden story; - We gave not a groan, we raised not a cheer, - But we left them alone to their glory. - - FRIAR TUCK. - -The above are from _Truth_, August 7, 1884. - - * * * * * - - -THE MARRIAGE OF SIR JOHN SMITH. - - Not a sigh was heard, nor a funeral tone, - As the man to his bridal we hurried; - Not a woman discharged her farewell groan, - On the spot where the fellow was married. - - We married him just about eight at night, - Our faces paler turning, - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, - And the gas-lamp's steady burning. - - No useless watch-chain covered his vest, - Nor over-dressed we found him; - But he looked like a gentleman wearing his best, - With a few of his friends around him. - - Few and short were the things we said, - And we spoke not a word of sorrow, - But we silently gazed on the man that was wed, - And we bitterly thought of the morrow. - - We thought, as we silently stood about, - With spite and anger dying, - How the merest stranger had cut us out, - With only half our trying. - - Lightly we'll talk of the fellow that's gone, - And oft for the past upbraid him; - But little he'll reck if we let him live on, - In the house where his wife conveyed him. - - But our heavy task at length was done, - When the clock struck the hour for retiring; - And we heard the spiteful squib and pun - The girls were sullenly firing. - - Slowly and sadly we turned to go,-- - We had struggled, and we were human; - We shed not a tear, and we spoke not our woe, - But we left him alone with his woman. - - _Poems and Parodies_, by Phœbe Carey. - - Boston, United States, 1854. - - * * * * * - - We buried him slyly on Monday night, the sods with our - shooting-sticks turning, for he wrote a new poem, and read it with - might, in spite of the Editor's warning. - - QUADS. - - * * * * * - - - - -Thomas Hood. - - -THE SONG OF THE HORSE. - - With shins all hash'd and torn, - With carcases skin and bone, - Two nags with a 'bus hung on at the square, - With hunger almost gone-- - "Ya hip--hip--hip!" - Shouted one on the dicky borne, - "Should we pick up a fare now, my five-year-olds, - To-morrow you _may_ get corn." - - * * * * * - - Trot, trot, trot! - Till our giddy brains run round! - Trot, trot, trot! - And that on Christian ground! - Run, gallop, and trot, - Trot, gallop, and run, - Till we weary and weary over again - That our dreadful task were done. - O! others of our race - More favoured than we two! - You little think in your day of grace, - That this fate may come to you! - Soft, soft, soft! - You sleep without a throe! - Hard, hard, hard! - We struggle through drifted snow! - - (_Eight verses omitted_). - - J. M. CRAWFORD, Greenock, March, 1844. - - * * * * * - -Many years ago _The New York Herald_ had a long parody of the "Song of the -Shirt," entitled _The Lament of Ashland_. It commenced:-- - - "With brows all clammy and cold, - With face all haggard and wan, - The "Hero of Bladensburgh" sat in his chair, - And uttered a fearful groan; - - Wake, wake, wake! - Ye Whigs from your drowsy bed; - And wake, wake, wake! - Ere my hopes are all perished and fled." - -There were seven more verses, but as the parody was of purely local -interest, they are not here quoted. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE POST. - - With "Bluchers" cobbled and worn, - With post-bag heavy alway, - A postman tramped on his twentieth round, - On good St. Valentine's day. - Rat-tat! rat! tat! - At every knocker almost, - Each time, in a voice that was somewhat flat, - He sang the "Song of the Post!" - - Tramp! tramp! tramp! - When the sweep is up the flue; - And tramp! tramp! tramp! - Till the supper beer is due. - It's oh! to be a slave, - Along with the barbarous Turk, - Where Scudamore can verse outpour - For Britons, besides his work! - - Trudge! trudge! trudge! - Till I'm trodden down at heel; - Trudge! trudge! trudge! - Till I'm faint for want of a meal. - Bell, and knocker, and box, - Box, and knocker, and bell; - Till over the letters I all but nod, - And drop them in a spell. - - Oh, girls with lovers fond! - Oh, men who want to get wives! - It's not a mere custom you're keeping up; - You're wearing out postmen's lives! - If you must send Valentines, - Don't post them by tens and twelves; - Or, if you do, I would pray of you - To deliver them yourselves! - - But why do I pray of you, - Whose hearts so hard must be, - Since your scented rhymes you'll not post betimes, - In spite of Lord M--'s decree? - In spite of Lord M--'s decree, - In your tardy ways you keep; - Oh, crime! that boots should be so dear, - And Valentines so cheap! - - * * * * * - - Tramp! tramp! tramp! - Through street, and terrace, and square. - Rap! rap! rap! - Valentines everywhere! - Maid, and master, and miss, - Miss, and master, and maid; - There are some for them all, as they come at the call - Of the knocker, so long delayed. - - * * * * * - - There's none too poor or base - A Valentine to send-- - A halfpenny buys an ugly one - That will serve to spite a friend. - They are sent by the high and the low-- - By the noble, and many a scamp, - Who has to steal the envelope, - And cadge for the penny stamp! - - * * * * * - - Oh! could I but finish my task! - That I for my _feet_ might care, - And my neck that's gall'd by the heavy weight, - I've had this day to bear. - Oh! but for one short hour, - To feel as I used to feel, - Before I'd developed such terrible corns, - Or was trodden so down at heel. - - * * * * * - - With "Bluchers" cobbled and worn, - With post-bag heavy alway, - A postman tramped on his twentieth round, - On good St. Valentine's day. - Rat-tat! tat! tat! - At every knocker almost; - And still, in a voice that was somewhat flat, - (Many wondered whate'er he was at), - He sang the "Song of the Post!" - - (_Fourteen verses in all_). - - _Truth_, February 8, 1877. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE DANCE. - -"It really seems the ambition of each fashionable woman to render her -dress more like a skin than that of her neighbour, besides exhibiting as -large a portion of the real flesh as can be done without the apology for -raiment absolutely dropping off!"--_The World_, January 31, 1877. - - With arms a-wearied of fanning herself, - With eyelids heavy and red, - A wallflower sat on a stiff-backed chair, - Wishing herself in bed. - Turn, twirl, and turn, - With hop, with glide, and prance; - And still, as she sleepily gazed on that throng, - She muttered the "Song of the Dance." - - Dance, dance, dance, - Till I hear the milkman's cry; - Dance, dance, dance, - Till the sun is seen on high. - It's O to be a nigger, - Nor mind to clothless feel, - If civilised folk will try how little - They need their bodies conceal! - - Dance, dance, dance, - Till the heat is horrid to bear; - Dance, dance, dance, - Till I long for a cushioned chair. - Waltz, gallop, and waltz; - A lancer, a stray quadrille, - Till the whirl and the music make me doze, - And dreaming I watch them still. - - O men with wives and sisters, - Have ye no eyes to see - That the scanty dress of the ballet-girl - By your kin ne'er worn should be? - Twirl, turn, and twirl; - Morality, where art thou? - The dance and the dress of the stage--and worse-- - Are those of the ball-room now! - - But why do I talk of morality - Since Fashion its morals makes? - What Fashion does is never wrong, - So Purity never quakes. - For Purity only takes - Her sip of the cup that Fashion fills; - And we know that cup is made of gold, - And that gold will cover a thousand ills. - - Dance, dance, dance; - They never tired appear: - And all in hopes that a wished-for vow, - May fall on their foolish ear, - Alas, how the morn will show, - The work of the midnight air; - And the paint will trace on many a face, - And show false locks of hair! - - Dance, dance, dance; - How sweetly they keep time, - As they dance, dance, dance, - In a measure quite sublime! - They waltz, waltz, waltz, - Keep time to the glorious band; - But, ah! there is many a blushing look, - And pressure of many a hand! - - Thus wearied out with fanning herself, - With eyelids heavy and red, - This wallflower sat on a stiff-backed chair, - Wishing herself in bed. - While all were swinging with turn and twirl, - With hop, and glide, and prance, - She muttered this song to herself, and said, - "Alas", where is morality fled, - Since true is my "Song of the Dance?" - - CECIL MAXWELL LYTE. - -_London Society_, November, 1877. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE SOLDIER'S SHIRT. - -(In 1879 it was announced that the wages of the women working at the Army -Clothing Department, Pimlico, had been reduced from 20 to 25 per cent.) - - With fingers weary and worn, - With eyelids heavy and red, - A woman sat 'neath a Government roof, - Plying her needle and thread. - As she stitch'd, stitch'd, stitch'd, - 'Twas plain she was most expert; - And she sang to herself in a voice low-pitch'd, - The "Song of the Soldier's Shirt." - - Work! work! work! - There's no rest in youth or age! - And alas! I have now to work - For a cruelly lessen'd wage! - I sit at my task all day, - And never my duty shirk, - But slop-shop prices would better pay - Than this cheap Government work. - - Work! work! work! - My labour never flags, - And yet with my pittance I scarce can buy - A crust of bread--and rags. - I work for the greatest Power, - That ever the world has known, - Yet my pay's so small that I cannot call - My body and soul my own. - - * * * * * - - Oh! is there no other way - Of bringing expenditure down? - Must they needs reduce _our_ paltry pay - Of all who serve the Crown? - Heaven grant that they yet may see - Some way the wrong to redress, - For every penny they take from me - Means a slice of bread the less! - - * * * * * - - As she stitch'd, stitch'd, stitch'd, - 'Twas plain she was most expert; - And she sang in a voice that was low and sweet - (Oh! that it may reach to Downing Street!) - This "Song of the Soldier's Shirt." - - _Truth_, May 1, 1879. - - * * * * * - - -THE SONG OF THE PEN. - - With a weary, swimming brain, - With a throbbing aching head, - Sat a newspaper hack in his garret lone, - Driving a goose-quill for bread. - A well-smoked briar was in his hand, - He'd filled it again and again, - And between the whiffs, in a quavering voice, - He sang this "Song of the Pen." - - Write! write! write! - Though my head is ready to split; - Write! write! write! - Though I fall asleep as I sit. - Write! write! write! - When the summer sun is high! - Write! write! write! - When the stars light up the sky. - - Write! write! write! - For my pen must never tire; - First I've a railway smash to do, - And then the report of a fire. - I must put in a word of praise for those - Who rendered efficient aid; - And, if time enough, I must give a puff, - To the chief of the Fire Brigade. - - Write! write! write! - I'd need be a writing machine; - For unlike the workers on _Once a Week_, - I've no Leisure Hour between, - But it's write! write! write! - Though my inkstand is nearly dry, - Like a government office, I must contract - With MORRELL for a fresh supply. - - Now I must haste to the gallows tree, - To see them strangle a sinner; - And write a report the saints may read, - As they take their breakfast or dinner. - Then concoct a puff for some wonderful pill, - Or marvellous sarsaparilla; - And hurry away to hear PUNSHON preach, - Or SPURGEON on the gorilla. - -(_Three verses omitted._) - - With a weary, swimming brain, - With a throbbing, aching head, - Sat a newspaper hack in his garret lone, - Driving a goose-quill for bread. - Write! write! write! - They're asking for "copy" again; - While his goose-quill over the foolscap flew, - He thought of the troubles each author knew, - And sang this "Song of the Pen." - - ANONYMOUS. - - * * * * * - - Transcriber notes: - - P. 4. 'Athough this poem' changed 'Athough' to Although'. - P. 5. 'See hears' changed 'See' to 'She'. - P. 7. 'well know song', changed 'know' to 'known'. - P. 10. 'thinks on earth', changed 'thinks' to 'things'. - P. 13. 'it this were done?" changed 'it' to 'if'. - P. 24. 'In Memmoriam', changed 'Memmoriam' to 'Memoriam'. - P. 33. 'Note... Robort Southey', changed 'Robort' to 'Robert'. - P. 38. 'Bold y he spoke,' changed 'Bold y' to 'Boldly'. - P. 41. 'baek to' changed to 'back to'. - P. 62. 'On greening glass', changed 'glass' to 'grass'. - P. 64. 'Leattle Intelligencer' changed to 'Seattle Intelligencer'. - p. 78. 'corpuleut' changed to 'corpulent'. - P. 86. 'On your poor occiput alight, - We fell so sore!', changed 'fell' to 'felt'. - P. 95. Completed the poem with a full-stop "In these lines replies - discover.", rather than a semi-colon. - P. 98. 'Le me cross', change 'Le' to 'Let'. - P. 108. 'a corse' changed to 'a corpse'. - P. 119. 'late Ssssion', changed 'Ssssion' to 'Session'. - P. 156. Last stanza of poem, 'Promise May', changed to 'Promise - of May'. - Fixed various punctuation. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Parodies of the Works of English and -American Authors, Vol I, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARODIES *** - -***** This file should be named 62396-0.txt or 62396-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/3/9/62396/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Jane Robins and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Parodies of the Works of English and American Authors, Vol I - -Author: Various - -Release Date: June 14, 2020 [EBook #62396] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARODIES *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Jane Robins and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="515" height="700" alt="" /> -</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>PARODIES<br /> - -<span class="small50">OF THE WORKS OF</span><br /> - -<span class="fone">ENGLISH & AMERICAN AUTHORS</span>,</h1> - -<p class="center">COLLECTED AND ANNOTATED BY</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="fone">WALTER HAMILTON</span>,</p> - -<p class="center"><em>Fellow of the Royal Geographical and Royal Historical Societies;<br /> -Author of "A History of National Anthems and Patriotic Songs," "A Memoir of George Cruikshank;"<br /> -"The Poets Laureate of England;" "The Æsthetic Movement in England," etc.</em></p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<blockquote><p class="left"><span class="mleft2"> </span>"We maintain that, far from converting virtue into a parodox, and degrading truth by ridicule, P<span class="smcapa">ARODY</span> will only strike at -what is chimerical and false; it is not a piece of buffoonery so much as a critical exposition. What do we parody but the absurdities -of writers, who frequently make their heroes act against nature, common-sense, and truth? After all, it is the public, not we, who are -the authors of these P<span class="smcapa">ARODIES</span>."<br /> <span class="shiftright">D'I<span class="smcapa">SRAELI'S</span> Curiosities of Literature.</span></p> -</blockquote> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="p8">VOLUME I,</span><br /> -CONTAINING PARODIES OF THE POEMS OF<br /> -<span class="p8">ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON</span>,<br /> -<span class="p5">HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</span>,<br /> -<span class="p5">BRET HARTE, THOMAS HOOD</span>,<br /> -AND THE<br /> -<span class="p5">REVEREND C. WOLFE</span>.</p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p>REEVES & TURNER, 196, STRAND, LONDON, W.C.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>1884.</p> -</div> - - - -<div class="bbox"> -<p><em>"Le sujet que l'on entreprend de parodier doit toujours être un ouvrage -connu, célèbre, estimé. La critique d'une pièce médiocre ne peut jamais devenir -intéressante, ni piquer la curiosité. Il faut que l'imitation soit fidèle, que les -plaisantéries naissent du fond des choses, et paraissent s'être présentées d'elles-mêmes, -sans avoir coûté aucune peine."</em></p> - -<p><em>Mémoire sur l'origine de la Parodie, etc. Par M. l' Abbé Sallier</em>, 1733.</p> - -<p><em>"It was because Homer was the most popular poet, that he was most susceptible -of the playful honours of the Greek parodist; unless the prototype is familiar to -us, a parody is nothing!"</em><br /> - <span class="shiftright">I<span class="smcapa">SAAC</span> D'I<span class="smcapa">SRAELI</span>.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="center">T<span class="smcapa">HOBURN</span> & C<span class="smcapa">O</span>., St. Bride's Steam Press, 136, Salisbury Square, Fleet Street, London, E.C.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>PREFACE.</h2> - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_pref.jpg" width="120" height="10" alt="" /> -</div> - -<blockquote> - - -<p><span class="figleft120"><img src="images/i_w.jpg" width="119" height="120" alt="" /> </span> When this Collection was originally projected, it seemed so unlikely to receive much -support from the general public that it was intended to publish a few only of the best -Parodies of each author.</p> - -<p>After the issue of the first few numbers, however, it became evident that "a hit—a palpable hit—" -had been made, the sale rapidly increased, and subscribers not only expressed their desire that -the collection should be made as nearly complete as possible, but by the loans of scarce books, -and copies of Parodies, helped to make it so.</p> - -<p>This involved an alteration in the original arrangement, and as it would have been monotonous to -fill a whole number of sixteen pages with parodies of one short poem, such as those on "Excelsior," -or Wolfe's Ode, it became necessary to spread them over several numbers. In the Index, which -has been carefully compiled, references will be found, under the titles of the original Poems, -to all the parodies mentioned. In all cases, where it has been possible to do so, full titles and -descriptions of the works quoted from, have been given; any omission to do this has been -unintentional, and will be at once rectified on the necessary information being supplied.</p> - -<p>To the following gentlemen I am much indebted for assistance in the formation of this collection, -either by granting permission to quote from their works, or by their original contributions:—Messrs. -Lewis Carroll (author of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland"), G. P. Beckley, James -Gordon, John Lane, J. W. Morris, Walter Parke (author of "The Lays of the Saintly"), -H. Cholmondeley Pennell (author of "Puck on Pegasus"), Major-General Rigaud, Edward -Simpson, G. R. Sims, Basil H. Soulsby, Edward Walford, M.A. (Editor of "The Antiquarian -Magazine"), J. W. Gleeson White, W. H. K. Wright, Public Library, Plymouth, and John Whyte, -Public Library, Inverness. A great deal of bibliographical information was sent me by my -late lamented friend, the learned and genial Mr. William Bates, Editor of "The Maclise Portrait -Gallery;" his brother, Mr. A. H. Bates; the Rev. T. W. Carson, of Dublin; and Miss Orton, have -also given me valuable assistance.</p> - -<p>In a few cases where parodies are to be found in easily accessible works, extracts only have been -quoted, or references given; but it is intended in future, wherever permission can be obtained, -to give each parody in full, as they are found to be useful for public entertainments, and recitations. -When the older masters of our Literature are reached, a great deal of curious and amusing -information will be given, and it is intended to conclude with a complete bibliographical account -of P<span class="smcapa">ARODY</span>, with extracts and translations from all the principal works on the topic. Whilst -arranging the present volume, I have been gathering materials for those to come, which will -illustrate the works of those old writers whose names are familiar in our mouths as household -words. Much that is not only quaint and amusing will thus be collected, whilst many illustrations -of our literature, both in prose and verse, which are valuable to the student, will for the first time -be methodically arranged, annotated, and published in a cheap and accessible form.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="center">WALTER HAMILTON.</p> - -<p>64, B<span class="smcapa">ROMFELDE</span> R<span class="smcapa">OAD</span>, C<span class="smcapa">LAPHAM</span>, L<span class="smcapa">ONDON</span>, S.W.<br /> -<span class="mleft5"><em>December</em>, 1884.</span></p> - - - - -<h2>INDEX.</h2> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_index.jpg" width="111" height="10" alt="" /> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>The authors of the original poems are arranged in alphabetical order; the titles of the original poems -are printed in small capitals, followed by the Parodies.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r10" /> - - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="INDEX"> -<tbody> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p6"><a href="#CHARLES_S_CALVERLEY">Charles S. Calverley.</a></span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">Notice of</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p6">Thomas Campbell.</span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">H<span class="smcapa">OHENLINDEN</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"In London, when the Queen was Low," 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p6">William Cowper.</span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> G<span class="smcapa">ILPIN</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">John Bulljohn, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p6"><a href="#BRET_HARTE">Bret Harte.</a></span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">P<span class="smcapa">LAIN</span> L<span class="smcapa">ANGUAGE FROM</span> T<span class="smcapa">RUTHFUL</span> J<span class="smcapa">AMES</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Heathen Pass-ee</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Kiss in the Dark</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">That Germany Jew, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">St. Denys of France, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">That Infidel Earl, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Truthful James's Song of the Shirt</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">F<span class="smcapa">URTHER</span> L<span class="smcapa">ANGUAGE FROM</span> T<span class="smcapa">RUTHFUL</span> J<span class="smcapa">AMES</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Remarks about Othello, 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Bloomin' Flower of Rorty Gulch</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p6"><a href="#THOMAS_HOOD">Thomas Hood.</a></span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">HIRT</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Trials and Troubles of a Tourist</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Spurt, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Sheet, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Street, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Stump, 1868</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Flirt, 1872</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Wire, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of Love, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Cram, 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Slave of the Pen, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Sword</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of a Sot</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of "The Case," 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Turk in 1877</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Flirt, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Janitor's Song</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Shirk, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Brood on the Beard</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Dirt, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Wail of a Proof-reader, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Bitter Cry, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Lines, 1873</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Drunkard</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the "Prickly Heat," 1859</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Clerk</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Horse, 1844</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lament of Ashland</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Post, 1877</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Dance, 1877</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Soldier's Shirt, 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Pen</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">I <span class="smcapa">REMEMBER</span>, I <span class="smcapa">REMEMBER</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Nursery Reminiscences</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody from "Notes and Queries," 1871</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parodies from "The Figaro," 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody from "Idylls of the Rink," 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody from "The Man in the Moon"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIDGE OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IGHS</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"One more unfortunate, Ploughed for degree,"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Hair of the Dead, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Take him up tendahly, Lift him with caah"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Rink of Sighs, 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Last Appeal for Place, 1878</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"One more Unfortunate Author in debt," 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Boots of Size</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> E<span class="smcapa">UGENE</span> A<span class="smcapa">RAM</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Fall of the Eminent I. (on Henry Irving)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On "The Iron Chest" at the Lyceum Theatre,<br /> <span class="mleft2"> </span>1879, "'Twas in the Strand, a great demand"</td> - <td class="tdr bottom"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"The sky was clear; no ripple marked"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"'Twas in the dim Lyceum pit"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">M<span class="smcapa">ISS</span> K<span class="smcapa">ILMANSEGG</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Thread of Life</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Young Ben, he was a nice young man," 1845</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"By different names were poets called," 1859</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"A world of whim I wandered in of late," 1878</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134">134</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p6"><a href="#HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOW">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</a></span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">A P<span class="smcapa">SALM OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">IFE</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Psalm of Life Assurance, 1869</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Psalm of Fiction</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Miss M. to Mr. Green</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Bachelor's Life, 1872</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Maiden's Dream of Life</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On Campbell's "Lives of the Chancellors"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Noble Ambition, 1873</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Liberal Psalm of Life, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Psalm of Life at Sixty, 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Lives of wealthy men remind us"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">To my Scout at Breakfast</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Wives of great men all remind us"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">B<span class="smcapa">EWARE</span>!</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Take Care</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Beware! (of the Rink), 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Beware! (of Lord Salisbury), 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ILENT</span> L<span class="smcapa">AND</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Song of the Irish Land, 1881</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Song of the Oyster Land, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> N<span class="smcapa">ORMAN</span> B<span class="smcapa">ARON</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Repentant Baron, 1871</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">KELETON IN</span> A<span class="smcapa">RMOUR</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Calverley's Ode to Tobacco</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> H<span class="smcapa">IAWATHA</span>—</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Hiawatha, a Parody</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of Drop o' Wather, 1856</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Song of In-the-Water</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Song of Lower-Water</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Wallflowers, 1872</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of Nicotine, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Bump Supper, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Legend of Ken-e-li, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of the Beetle</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Hunting of Cetewayo, 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Hiawatha's Photographing, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lawn-Tennis Party at Pepperhanger, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of Hiawatha, by Shirley Brooks</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Howlawaya, the Quack Doctor, 1853</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Milk-and-Watha</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Princess Toto</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Revenge, a Rhythmic Recollection, 1877</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of Big Ben, 1877</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Song of Pahtahquahong, 1881</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Piamater, by Alfred Longcove</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">OURTSHIP OF</span> M<span class="smcapa">ILES</span> S<span class="smcapa">TANDISH</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Shortfellow sums up Longfellow</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">E<span class="smcapa">VANGELINE</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Wagner Festival</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Picnic-aline, 1855</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Nauvoo</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Town and Gown, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Voice from the Far West, 1859</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Sister Beatrice, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_103">103</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ILLAGE</span> B<span class="smcapa">LACKSMITH</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Village Blacksmith as he is, 1873</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Night Policeman, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Village Grog Shop, 1878</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The English Judge, 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Village Beauty, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The British M.P., 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Village Pax</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Village Woodman, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">70</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">E<span class="smcapa">XCELSIOR</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Excelsior in "Pidgin English"—"Topside Galah"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Your name and college," 1863</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">XX—oh lor!</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Theatre. "Ugh! Turn him out," 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"The price of meat was rising fast," 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Clean Your Door-step, Marm!"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Egg-shell she o'er," 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Those Horrid Schools, 1861</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">That Thirty-four, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tobacco Smoke, 1864</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Obstructionists</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Endymion (by Lord Beaconsfield), 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A "Common" Grievance—"The Heath is ours!"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"And felt so sore"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Sapolio</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">13, Cross Cheaping</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Pilosagine</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Imperceptible</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Ozokerit, 1870</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Plumber, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Dyspepsia, 1868</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Bicycle, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Upidee, Upida</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Exitium, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Don't bother us!" 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">C<span class="smcapa">URFEW</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Close of the Season</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The End, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_88">88</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIDGE</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Bridge (by Longus Socius), 1866</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Rink, 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Whitefriargate Bridge, 1872</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Sunset, 1873</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"I stood in the Quad at Midnight"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">What is in an aim, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">LAVE'S</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAM</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Swell's Dream, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">AGA OF</span> K<span class="smcapa">ING</span> O<span class="smcapa">LAF</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Queen Sigrid, the Haughty</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Saga of the Skaterman, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Modern Saga, 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">The Poets on the Marriage with a Deceased Wife's Sister Bill<br /> <span class="mleft2"> </span>(Parodies of Longfellow and Swinburne)</td> - <td class="tdr bottom"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlc">The Derby Week, 1878</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p5">William Morris.</span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">The Monthly Parodies</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p5">Bayard Taylor.</span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">D<span class="smcapa">IVERSIONS OF THE</span> E<span class="smcapa">CHO</span> C<span class="smcapa">LUB</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Sir Eggnogg</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Nauvoo</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Sewing Machine</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Eustace Green</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p5"><a href="#ALFRED_LORD_TENNYSON">Alfred, Lord Tennyson (Poet Laureate).</a></span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tennyson's Early Career</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tennyson's Lineage</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tennyson as Poet Laureate</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tennyson's Plagiarisms</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">IMBUCTOO</span>, The Cambridge Prize Poem, 1829, Thackeray's Parody on</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">L<span class="smcapa">ILIAN</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Caroline</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">M<span class="smcapa">ARIANA</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Mariana at the Railway Station</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Wedding Dress</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Bow Street Grange</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Behind Time</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Clerk, 1842</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Baggage Man</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On a Dull old Five-Act Play, 1848</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Exiled Londoner, 1848</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Lord Tomnoddy in the Final Schools, 1868</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"They lifted him with kindly care"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The M.P. on the Railway Committee, 1845</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Squatter's 'Baccy Famine, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">R<span class="smcapa">ECOLLECTIONS OF THE</span> A<span class="smcapa">RABIAN</span> N<span class="smcapa">IGHTS</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Recollections of the Stock Exchange</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">A C<span class="smcapa">HARACTER</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Character (M. Jullien)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">OET</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Poet of the Period</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ALLAD</span> <span class="smcapa">OF</span> O<span class="smcapa">RIANA</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Oriana" at the Globe Theatre</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Ballad of Boreäna</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">C<span class="smcapa">IRCUMSTANCE</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tit for Tat</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Circumstance, 1848</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ERMAN</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Laureate</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ERMAID</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Mermaid at the Aquarium</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">M<span class="smcapa">ARGARET</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Mary Ann</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> T<span class="smcapa">WO</span> V<span class="smcapa">OICES</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Three Voices</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Two Voices, as heard by Jones</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">Œ<span class="smcapa">NONE</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The New Œnone</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ISTERS</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Matrimonial Expediency</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ALACE OF</span> A<span class="smcapa">RT</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"I built myself a high-art pleasure-house."</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"I built my <em>Cole</em> a lordly pleasure-house," 1862</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"I built myself a lordly picture-place," 1877</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">L<span class="smcapa">ADY</span> C<span class="smcapa">LARA</span> V<span class="smcapa">ERE DE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ERE</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Lady Clara V. de V.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Baron Alfred Vere de Vere</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Baron Alfred, T. de T.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Premier's Lament</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Captain Falcon of the Guards, 1848</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Russian Czar, 1854</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Rustic Admiration of Lady Clara, 1868</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Lady Clara in the South, 1870</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Vicar's Surplice, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Rhyme for Rogers, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Parody Advertisement of Velveteen</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AY</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Biter Bit</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The May Queen Corrected, 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Farewell Ode to the Brompton Boilers</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The "May" of the Queen (Judge May)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Play King (Henry Irving)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Opening of the New Law Courts</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Queen of the Fête</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Election's Eve</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"I'm to be One of the Peers, Vicky"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">August the Twelfth, 1869</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A May Dream of the Female Examination</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Dray Queen</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The May Queen in the Existing Climate</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Sight-Seeing Emperor, 1877</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Welsher's Lament, 1878</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Modern May Queen, 1881</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Penge Mystery Trial, 1877</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The May Exam. (By A. Pennysong)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Premier's Lament, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The New Lord Mayor, 1881</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lord Mayor to the Lady Mayoress, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Last Lord Mayor to his Favourite Beadle</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Eve of the General Election, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Tory Lord on the Franchise Bill, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On a Debate on the Franchise Bill, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Premier to Mrs. Gladstone, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Promise of May, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The May Queen of 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Awake I must, and early," 1861</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Baron Honour, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">OTUS</span> E<span class="smcapa">ATERS</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Whitebait Eaters</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Ministers at Greenwich</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">A D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> F<span class="smcapa">AIR</span> W<span class="smcapa">OMEN</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"I read, before I fell into a doze"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Long time I fed my eyes on that strange scene"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Dream of Queer Women</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Dream of Fair Women, and others</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">A D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> F<span class="smcapa">AIR</span> W<span class="smcapa">OMEN</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Dreaming, methought I heard the Laureate's Song"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Dream of Great Players (Lawn Tennis)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Dream of Unfair Women</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> A<span class="smcapa">SK</span> M<span class="smcapa">E</span> W<span class="smcapa">HY, THO</span>' I<span class="smcapa">LL</span> <span class="smcapa">AT</span> E<span class="smcapa">ASE</span>"—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Laureate in Parliament</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The New Umbrella, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"O<span class="smcapa">F</span> O<span class="smcapa">LD</span> S<span class="smcapa">AT</span> F<span class="smcapa">REEDOM ON THE</span> H<span class="smcapa">EIGHTS</span>"—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not Old, Stood Pam Upon the Heights," 1861</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">ITHONUS</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody from "The World," 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tithonus in Oxford</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Lord Beaconsfield as Tithonus, 1879</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">L<span class="smcapa">OCKSLEY</span> H<span class="smcapa">ALL</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Cousins, leave me here a little, in Lawn Tennis you excel"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Bacchanalian Dreamings</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lay of the Lovelorn</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Vauxhall</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Sir Rupert, the Red</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Cousin Amy's View, 1878</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Locksley Hall, before he passed his "Smalls"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Battue shooting, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Granny's House, 1854</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Codgers' Hall, 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">G<span class="smcapa">ODIVA</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Modern Lady Godiva</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_13">13</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Madame Warton as "Godiva," 1848</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_164">164</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORD OF</span> B<span class="smcapa">URLEIGH</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Unfortunate Miss Bailey</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody in "Figaro"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lord Burghley, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Faithless Peeler, 1848</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lord of Burleigh to the Land Bill, 1881</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Burlington House Ballad, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">OYAGE</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Excursion Train</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody from "Kottabos," 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">A F<span class="smcapa">AREWELL</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdla">"<em>Flow down, cold Rivulet, to the Sea</em>"—</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Bite on, thou Pertinacious Flea"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Rise up, cold Reverend, to a See"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Ode to Aldgate Pump</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Flow down, false Rivulet, to the Sea"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">EGGAR</span> M<span class="smcapa">AID</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Undergrad</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">To my Scout</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Bather's Dirge</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Musical Pitch</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tennyson at Billingsgate in 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody from "Snatches of Song"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody from "Punch's Almanac," 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Unsuccessful Stock Exchange Speculator</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Hot, Hot, Hot</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Pelt, Pelt, Pelt</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Wake, Wake, Wake, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">To Professor O. C. Marsh, U.S.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">E<span class="smcapa">NOCH</span> A<span class="smcapa">RDEN</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Enoch Arden, continued, 1866</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166">166</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Enoch's "Hard 'Un"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_167">167</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ROOK</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Tinker</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Rinker</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Song of the Irwell</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Keeping Term after Commemoration</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Maiden's Lament, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Flow down, old River, to the Sea"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Our River (Old Father Thames), 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The (North) Brook</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Plumber and Builder</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On Mr. Gladstone's Visit to Scotland (Liberal Lyrics, 1854)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Train</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Mill, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">RINCESS</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Princess Ida</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"H<span class="smcapa">OME THEY BROUGHT HER</span> W<span class="smcapa">ARRIOR</span>, D<span class="smcapa">EAD</span>"—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Home they brought her Lap-dog Dead"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Home they brought her Sailor Son"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Home they brought Montmorres, dead"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Home they brought the Gallant Red"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Home they brought the news with dread"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Lay the stern old warrior down," 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Home they brought her husband, 'tight'"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Home the 'Worrier' comes! We read"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">EARS</span>, I<span class="smcapa">DLE</span> T<span class="smcapa">EARS</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Peers, Idle Peers, 1868</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tears, Idle Tears, 1866</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc">(To the Right Hon. Spencer Walpole).</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"A<span class="smcapa">SK ME NO</span> M<span class="smcapa">ORE</span>."</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">To an Importunate Host</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Charge of the Light (Irish) Brigade</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"The Two Hundred" Mechanical Engineers in Dublin, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Half Hundred (of Coals)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Doctor's Heavy Brigade</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Charge of the Black Brigade, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">At the Magdalen Ground</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Charge of the Fair Brigade</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Charge of the "Bustle"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On the Six Hundredth Representation of "Our Boys" at the Vaudeville Theatre</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Vote of Six Millions</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Charge of the "Rad" Brigade</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Lay of the Law Courts</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Latest Charge (against Mr. Biggar, M. P., for Breach of Promise of Marriage)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Charge of the Gownsmen at the Anti-Tobacco Lecture</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Charge of the Light Ballet</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tragic Episode in an Omnibus</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Michael Drayton on the Battle of Agincourt</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The "Light" Cavalier's Charge</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Charge of the Court Brigade, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Battle of Bartlemy's, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Charge of the Light Brigade at the Alexandra Palace Banquet, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On the Rink, 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Half a Duck! Half a Duck!"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Half a League!" (Tea Advertisement)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185">185</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">A W<span class="smcapa">ELCOME TO</span> A<span class="smcapa">LEXANDRA</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Britannia's Welcome to the Illustrious Stranger, Ismail Pasha, 1869</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On a Statue to the late John Brown</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Welcome to Alexandra (Palace)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On the Opening of the Alexandra Palace, May, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_173">173</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> G<span class="smcapa">RANDMOTHER</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Hard Times</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody in "Snatches of Song"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"And Willy with Franchise Horn," 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">I<span class="smcapa">N THE</span> G<span class="smcapa">ARDEN AT</span> S<span class="smcapa">WAINSTON</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">In the Schools at Oxford</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ICTIM</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Victim</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Prophet Enoch, 1860</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47">47</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">IGHER</span> P<span class="smcapa">ANTHEISM</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">OICE AND THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">EAK</span>—</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Voice and the Pique, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_178">178</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"F<span class="smcapa">LOWER IN THE</span> C<span class="smcapa">RANNIED</span> W<span class="smcapa">ALL</span>"—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Terrier in my Granny's Hall"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">I<span class="smcapa">N</span> M<span class="smcapa">EMORIAM</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Richmond, 1856</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">In Immemoriam</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">In Memoriam, £. s. d., Baden-Baden</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Punch to Salisbury</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Rinker's Solace</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lawyer's Soliloquy</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"I Hold this Truth with one who sings"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Ozokerit</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">In Memoriam Technicam, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">In Memoriam; a Collie Dog, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"R<span class="smcapa">ING</span> O<span class="smcapa">UT</span> W<span class="smcapa">ILD</span> B<span class="smcapa">ELLS TO THE</span> W<span class="smcapa">ILD</span> S<span class="smcapa">KY</span>."</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Wring out the Clouds," 1872</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Ring out, Glad Bells," 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Ring out Fool's Bells," 1881</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"C<span class="smcapa">OME INTO THE</span> G<span class="smcapa">ARDEN</span>, M<span class="smcapa">AUD</span>."</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Nay, I cannot come into the garden just now"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Maud in the Garden</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Anti-Maud</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Poet's Birth, a Mystery, 1859</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Chirrup, chirp, chirp, chirp twitter"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Midsummer Madness.—"I am a Hearthrug"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Birds in St. Stephen's Garden"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Song by Burne-Jones, "Come into my Studio, Maud," 1878</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Come into "The Garden," Maud (Covent Garden) 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> I<span class="smcapa">DYLLS OF THE</span> K<span class="smcapa">ING</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Voyage de Guillaume (Sept. 1883)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Last Peer, December, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parody of the <em>Morte d'Arthur</em>, by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Coming K——</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Vilien</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Goanveer</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Very Last Idyll</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Sir Tray; an Arthurian Idyll</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Sir Eggnogg</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Players; a Lawn Tennisonian Idyll</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">An Idyll of Phatte and Leene, 1873</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Eustace Green, or the Medicine Bottle</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Passing of M'Arthur, 1881</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Garnet. (An Idyll of the Queen), 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Jack Sprat. 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Quest of the Holy Poker, 1870</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Willie and Minnie, 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Latest Tournament, 1872</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Princes' Noses, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On the Hill; a Fragment, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tory Revels, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">London to Leicester; a Bicycling Idyll, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lost Tennisiad, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Lay of the Seventh Tournament, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"L<span class="smcapa">ATE</span>, L<span class="smcapa">ATE</span>, <span class="smcapa">SO</span> L<span class="smcapa">ATE</span>," (G<span class="smcapa">UINEVERE</span>)—</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Mala-Fide Travellers, 1872</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">AR</span> ("R<span class="smcapa">IFLEMEN</span> F<span class="smcapa">ORM</span>")—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Into them, Gown!" 1861</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">1865-1866—"I S<span class="smcapa">TOOD ON A</span> T<span class="smcapa">OWER IN THE</span> W<span class="smcapa">ET</span>"—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">1867-1868—"I sat in a 'Bus in the Wet"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Tennyson Stood in the Wet"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"I Stood by a River in the Wet," 1868</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">O<span class="smcapa">N A</span> S<span class="smcapa">PITEFUL</span> L<span class="smcapa">ETTER</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Spiteful Letter, 1874</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">From Algernon C. Swinburne</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">From Walt Whitman</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">H<span class="smcapa">ANDS ALL</span> R<span class="smcapa">OUND</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Slops all Round</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Drinks all Round</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Northampton's Freemen</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Pots all Round</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Tennysonian Toryism</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Cheers all Round</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Howls all Round</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">R<span class="smcapa">IZPAH</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Rizpah, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">EVENGE</span>, A B<span class="smcapa">ALLAD OF THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">LEET</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Retribution, a Ballad of the Sloe</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">D<span class="smcapa">E</span> P<span class="smcapa">ROFUNDIS</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Awfully Deep, my Boy, Awfully Deep"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">"T<span class="smcapa">HOSE THAT OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">ATE HAD</span> F<span class="smcapa">LEETED FAR AND</span> F<span class="smcapa">AST</span>,"</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb"><em>Prefatory Sonnet to the "Nineteenth Century."</em></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc">The Last Hat Left.</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Those low-born cubs who sneaked away so fast"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">M<span class="smcapa">ONTENEGRO</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The City Montenegro, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">A<span class="smcapa">CHILLES</span> O<span class="smcapa">VER THE</span> T<span class="smcapa">RENCH</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Parody on</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">D<span class="smcapa">ESPAIR; A</span> D<span class="smcapa">RAMATIC</span> M<span class="smcapa">ONOLOGUE</span>, 1881—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Disgust; a Dramatic Monologue, 1881</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_184">184</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">OETASTERS</span>, A D<span class="smcapa">RAMATIC</span> C<span class="smcapa">ANTATA</span>, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_86">86</a> -</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ROMISE</span> of M<span class="smcapa">AY</span>—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Reprint of the Play-bill, dated November, 1882</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Parodies on the Play-bill</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Marquis of Queensberry on "The Promise of May"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p6">Miscellaneous Parodies on Tennyson.</span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Laureate's Log. September, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Papa's Theory</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"The Bugle calls in Bayreuth's Halls"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Amiable Dun, a Fragment</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Early Spring, in an American Paper</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"In Hungerford, did some wise man," 1844</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Mrs. Henry Fawcett on the Education of Women</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">(<em>Apropos</em> of a Parody on the Collegiate Examinations of Female Students.)</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"British Birds," by Mortimer Collins</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="p5"><a href="#CHARLES_WOLFE">Reverend Charles Wolfe.</a></span></td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> M<span class="smcapa">OORE</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"<em>Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note.</em>"</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The disputed origin of the Poem</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Ni le son du tambour ... ni la marche funèbre"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not a <em>sous</em> had he got, not a guinea or note"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not a trap was heard, or a Charley's note"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">Ode on the Death and Burial of the Constitution, 1832—</td> - <td> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not a moan was heard—not a funeral note"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On the threatened Death of John O'Connell</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"He looked glum when he heard, by a friendly note," 1864</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not a laugh was heard, not a joyous note,"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Flight of O'Neill, the Invader of Canada</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Running him in, by a Good Templar</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not a hiss was heard, not an angry yell," 1875</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of the Title "Queen," 1876</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">On the Downfall of the Beaconsfield Government, 1880</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not a hum was heard, not a jubilant note"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not a sigh was heard, not a tear-drop fell"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of the Masher, 1883</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"He felt highly absurd, as he put on his coat"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">"Not a mute one word at the funeral spoke"</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Moonlight Flit</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of Pantomime, 1846-7</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of Philip Van Artevelde (Princess's Theatre)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of the Bills, 1850</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">A Tale of a Tub</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Death of the "Childerses," 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of "The Season," 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of my Fellow Lodger's Banjo</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Fate of General Gordon, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">One more Victim at Monte Carlo</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of the Duke of Wellington</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of the Bachelor</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Marriage of Sir F. Boore</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">Working Men at the Health Exhibition</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Removal of the House of Lords</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Spinster Householder Martyr</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Murder of a Beethoven Sonata</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Burial of the Pauper</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Fate of the Franchise Bill, 1884</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Defeated Cricket Eleven</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdlb">The Marriage of Sir John Smith, 1854</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td> -</tr> -</tbody> -</table></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_indexf.jpg" width="450" height="155" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h2>PARODIES<br /> -<span class="small50">OF</span><br /> -<span class="small60">THE WORKS OF</span><br /> -<span class="p9">ENGLISH & AMERICAN AUTHORS</span>,<br /></h2> - -<p>COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY<br /> -<span class="p8">WALTER HAMILTON,</span></p> - -<p><em>Fellow of the Royal Geographical and Royal Historical Societies;<br /> -Author of "The Æsthetic Movement in England," "The Poets Laureate of England,"<br /> -"A Memoir of George Cruikshank," etc.</em></p> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - - -<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION.</h2> - - -<p><span class="dropCap">I</span> HAVE, for many years past, been collecting Parodies of the works of the most celebrated British -and American Authors. This I have done, <em>not</em> because I entirely approve of the custom of -turning high-class work into ridicule, but because many of the parodies are in themselves works of -considerable literary merit. Moreover, as "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," so does a -parody show that its original has acquired a certain celebrity, for no author would waste his time, or -his talent, in composing a burlesque of an unknown, or obscure work.</p> - -<p>Numerous articles on parodies are to be found scattered up and down in odd corners of old -magazines and reviews, a few small books have been written on the topic; but, until now, no attempt -has been made to give, in a connected form, a history of parody with examples and explanatory -notes.</p> - -<p>This, then, is what I propose to do in the following articles, and those who desire to possess a -complete set of parodies on any favourite author, would do well to preserve these papers for future -reference.</p> - -<p>P<span class="smcapa">ARODY</span> is a form of composition of a somewhat ungracious description, as it owes its very -existence to the work it caricatures; but it has some beneficial results in drawing our attention -to the defects of some authors, whose stilted language and grandiloquent phrases have veiled their -poverty of ideas, their sham sentiment, and their mawkish affectations.</p> - -<p>The first attribute of a parody is that it should present a sharp contrast to the original either -in subject, or treatment of the subject; that if the original subject should be some lofty theme, the -parody may reduce it to a prosaic matter-of-fact narrative. If, on the other hand, the topic selected -be one of every day life, it may be made exceedingly amusing if described in high-flown mock heroic -diction. If the original errs in sentimental affectation, so much the better for the parodist. Thus -many of Tom Moore's best known songs are mere windy platitudes in very musical verse, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -afford excellent and legitimate materials for ridicule. The nearer the original diction is preserved, and -the fewer the alterations needed to produce a totally opposite meaning or ridiculous contrast, the -more complete is the antithesis, the more striking is the parody; take for instance Pope's well-known -lines:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Here shall the Spring its earliest <em>sweets</em> bestow,</div> - <div class="i0">Here the first <em>roses</em> of the year shall blow,"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>which, by the alteration of two words only, were thus applied by Miss Katherine Fanshawe to the -Regent's Park when it was first opened to the public:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Here shall the Spring its earliest <em>coughs</em> bestow,</div> - <div class="i0">Here the first <em>noses</em> of the year shall blow."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In this happy parody we have that "union of remote ideas," which is said, and said truly, to -constitute the essence of wit. Even the most serious and religious works have been parodied, and by -authors of the highest position. Thus Luther mimicked the language of the Bible, and both Cavaliers -and Puritans railed at each other in Scriptural phraseology. The Church services and Litanies of both -the Catholic, and Protestant Churches, have served in turn as originals for many bitter satires and -lampoons, directed at one time against the Church and the priests, at another time in equally bitter -invective against their opponents.</p> - -<p>To undertake the composition of parodies, as the word is generally comprehended—that is, -to make a close imitation of some particular poem, though it should be characteristic of the author—would -be at times rather a flat business. Even the Brothers Smith in "Rejected Addresses," and -Bon Gaultier in his "Ballads," admirable as they were, stuck almost too closely to their selected -models; and Phœbe Carey, who has written some of the best American parodies, did the same thing. -It is an evidence of a poet's distinct individuality, when he can be amusingly imitated. We can only -make those the object of our imitations whose manner, or dialect, stamps itself so deeply into our -minds that a new cast can be taken. But how could one imitate Robert Pollok's "Course of Time," -or Young's "Night Thoughts," or Blair's "Grave," or any other of those masses of words, which are -too ponderous for poetry, and much too respectable for absurdity! Either extreme will do for a -parody, excellence or imbecility; but the original must at least have <em>a distinct, pronounced character</em>.</p> - -<p>Certain well known poems are so frequently selected as models for parodies that it will only be -possible to select a few from the best of them; to re-publish every parody that has appeared on -Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade," E. A. Poe's "The Raven," Hamlet's Soliloquy, or -Longfellow's "Excelsior," would be a tedious, and almost endless task.</p> - -<p>Prose parodies, though less numerous than those in verse, are often far more amusing, and it -will be found that Dr. Johnson's ponderous sentences, Carlyle's rugged eloquence, and Dickens' -playful humour and tender pathos, lend themselves admirably to parody.</p> - -<p>The first portion of this work will be devoted to the parodies themselves, accompanied by short -notes sufficient to explain such allusions as may, in time, appear obscure; the second will contain a -full bibliographical account of all the principal collections of Parodies and Works on the subject, such as -the "Probationary Odes," Hone's Trials, the "Rejected Addresses," and the late M. Octave Delepierre's -<em>Essai sur la Parodie</em>. The latter work, which was published by Trübner & Co. in 1870, gave an -account of old Greek and Roman, and of modern French and English Parodies. I had the pleasure of -supplying M. Delepierre with the materials for his chapter on English Parodies, but, owing to the -limited space at his command, he was only able to quote a verse or two of the best parody of each -description. My aim will be to give each parody intact, except in the few cases where I have been -unable to obtain the author's permission to do so.</p> - -<p class="center">WALTER HAMILTON.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="ALFRED_LORD_TENNYSON" id="ALFRED_LORD_TENNYSON"></a>Alfred Tennyson.</h2> - -<p class="center"><em>Poet Laureate.</em></p> - - -<p>A<span class="smcapa">LFRED</span> T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span>, the third of seven brothers, -was born August 5th, 1809, at Somersby, a small -village near Horncastle, in Lincolnshire. His -father, Dr. George Clayton Tennyson, was the -rector of this parish, he was a man remarkable -for his strength, stature, and varied attainments -as poet, painter, musician and linguist. In 1827, -Alfred Tennyson, with his elder brother Charles, -both then being scholars at the Louth Grammar -school, published a small volume entitled "Poems -by Two Brothers." Shortly afterwards, these two -brothers removed to Trinity College, Cambridge, -and in 1829, Alfred Tennyson obtained the -Chancellor's Gold Medal for his poem on "Timbuctoo." -His subsequent poetical works rapidly -attracted attention, and, on the death of William -Wordsworth, he was created Poet Laureate, the -Warrant being dated the 19th November, 1850. -As a poet he has achieved almost the highest -fame, but in his numerous efforts as a dramatist -he has been less successful.</p> - -<p>For the consideration of the Parodies of -Tennyson's poems, they may conveniently be -divided into three periods, namely, his early -Poems, poems in connection with his appointment -in 1850 to the office of Poet Laureate, and -Poems since that date. Although Tennyson has -suppressed many of his early works, yet he -occasionally furbishes up, and re-issues as a -new poem some of his youthful compositions.</p> - -<p>Fastidious as he is known to be in his selection -of what he thus re-publishes, it is still a matter -of some surprise that he should have entirely -suppressed his prize poem <em>Timbuctoo</em>, which -would always be of interest as a specimen of his -early work, and is, besides, far removed above the -average of Prize Poems.</p> - -<p>The poems were sent in for competition in the -month of April, 1829; and on June 12, 1829, the -<cite>Cambridge Chronicle</cite> recorded that "On Saturday -last, the Chancellor's Gold Medal for the best -English poem by a resident undergraduate was -adjudged to Alfred Tennyson, of Trinity College." -Shortly afterwards the poem was published, and -was favourably reviewed in <em>The Athenæum</em>, which -speaking of Prize poems generally, stated, -"These productions have often been ingenious -and elegant, but we have never before seen one -of them which indicated really first-rate -poetical genius, and which would have done -honour to any man that ever wrote. <em>Such, we -do not hesitate to affirm, is the little work before -us.</em>"</p> - -<p>W. M. Thackeray was at Cambridge at the -same time as Tennyson, and early in 1829 he -commenced the publication of a small paper -entitled "T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">NOB</span>, a Literary and Scientific -Journal, <em>not</em> conducted by members of the -University." This was published by W. H. Smith, -of Rose Crescent, Cambridge, and ran for eleven -weeks: its contents were humorous sketches -in prose and verse, and the most remarkable -paper amongst them is the following droll poem -on <em>Timbuctoo</em>, which appeared on the 30th April, -1829, and has most unaccountably been omitted -from recent editions of Thackeray's works:—</p> - - -<p class="center"><em>To the Editor of the</em> "S<span class="smcapa">NOB.</span>"</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>S<span class="smcapa">IR</span>,—Though your name be <em>Snob</em>, I trust you will not -refuse this tiny "Poem of a Gownsman," which was unluckily -not finished on the day appointed for delivery of the several -copies of verses on Timbuctoo. I thought, Sir, it would be -a pity that such a poem should be lost to the world; and -conceiving "T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">NOB</span>" to be the most widely circulated -periodical in Europe, I have taken the liberty of submitting -it for insertion or approbation.—I am, Sir, yours, &c., &c.</p></blockquote> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">IMBUCTOO.</span>—P<span class="smcapa">ART</span> I.</h3> - -<p><em>The Situation.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In Africa (a quarter of the world),</div> - <div class="i0">Men's skins are black, their hair is crisp and curl'd,</div> - <div class="i0">And somewhere there, unknown to public view,</div> - <div class="i0">A mighty city lies, called Timbuctoo.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Natural History.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="linenum">5</span> - <div class="i0">There stalks the tiger,—there the lion roars,</div> - <div class="i0">Who sometimes eats the luckless blackamoors;</div> - <div class="i0">All that he leaves of them the monster throws</div> - <div class="i0">To jackals, vultures, dogs, cats, kites and crows;</div> - <div class="i0">His hunger thus the forest monster gluts,</div> -<span class="linenum">10</span> - <div class="i0">And then lies down 'neath trees called cocoa-nuts.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The lion hunt.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Quick issue out, with musket, torch, and brand,</div> - <div class="i0">The sturdy blackamoors, a dusky band!</div> - <div class="i0">The beast is found—pop goes the musketoons—</div> - <div class="i0">The lion falls covered with horrid wounds.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Their lives at home.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="linenum">15</span> - <div class="i0">At home their lives in pleasure always flow,</div> - <div class="i0">But many have a different lot to know!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Abroad.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They're often caught and sold as slaves, alas!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Reflections on the foregoing.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thus men from highest joy to sorrow pass,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet though thy monarch and thy nobles boil</div> -<span class="linenum">20</span> - <div class="i0">Rack and molasses in Jamaica's isle;</div> - <div class="i0">Desolate Africa! thou art lovely yet!!</div> - <div class="i0">One heart yet beats which ne'er thee shall forget.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What though thy maidens are a blackish brown,</div> - <div class="i0">Does virtue dwell in whiter breasts alone?</div> -<span class="linenum">25</span> - <div class="i0">Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!</div> - <div class="i0">It shall not, must not, cannot, e'er be so.</div> - <div class="i0">The day shall come when Albion's self shall feel</div> - <div class="i0">Stern Afric's wrath, and writhe 'neath Afric's steel.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> - <div class="i0">I see her tribes the hill of glory mount,</div> -<span class="linenum">30</span> - <div class="i0">And sell their sugars on their own account;</div> - <div class="i0">While round her throne the prostrate nations come,</div> -<span class="linenum">32</span> - <div class="i0">Sue for her rice, and barter for her rum!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote> - -<p>N<span class="smcapa">OTES.</span>—Lines 1 and 2.—See <cite>Guthrie's Geography</cite>. The -site of Timbuctoo is doubtful; the author has neatly expressed -this in the poem, at the same time giving us some -slight hints relative to its situation.</p> - -<p>Line 5.—So Horace: <em xml:lang="la" lang="la">leonum arida nutrix</em>.</p> - -<p>Line 13.—"Pop goes the musketoons." A learned friend -suggested "Bang" as a stronger expression, but as African -gunpowder is notoriously bad, the author thought "Pop" -the better word.</p> - -<p>Lines 15-18.—A concise but affecting description is -here given of the domestic habits of the people. The infamous -manner in which they are entrapped and sold as -slaves is described, and the whole ends with an appropriate -moral sentiment. The enthusiasm the author feels is beautifully -expressed in lines 25 and 26.</p></blockquote> - -<p><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Athough'">Although</ins> this poem is not actually a parody -of Tennyson's <em>Timbuctoo</em>, it is a clever burlesque -of Prize poems in general, and derives interest -as being one of Thackeray's earliest writings.</p> - -<p>The first independent volume of poems which -Tennyson published in 1830, contained <em>Mariana</em>, -<em>The Ballad of Oriana</em>, <em>Adeline</em>, <em>Lilian</em>, <em>The Poet</em>, -<em>The Merman</em>, and <em>the Mermaid</em>, all of which are -so well known that the following parodies -require no introduction:—</p> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">RIANA.</span></h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Tennyson-cum-Albery Ballad.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I went to see thee at the Globe,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana!</em></div> - <div class="i0">I tried thy mystery to probe,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana!</em></div> - <div class="i0">But Oh! long talk, bare limbs, rich robe,</div> - <div class="i0">Gems decking hand or pendant lobe,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana!</em></div> - <div class="i0">Would tire the patience out of Job,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana!</em></div> - <div class="i0">I saw the lime-light shadows flinging,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana!</em></div> - <div class="i0">I saw black boys, a mattress bringing,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana!</em></div> - <div class="i0">I saw thee to forlorn hope clinging,</div> - <div class="i0">I heard the bells of faërie ringing,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana;</em></div> - <div class="i0">And (out of tune) a chorus singing,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana!</em></div> - <div class="i0">I saw a high-priest sage and hoary,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana;</em></div> - <div class="i0">"Friend W<span class="smcapa">AGGLES</span>" struggling with a story,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana</em>.</div> - <div class="i0">A youth, in managerial glory,</div> - <div class="i0">Striving in vain, tho' <em>con amore</em>,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">As (save the mark!) <em>primo tenore</em>,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">I came! I saw! I mark'd each word,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana!</em></div> - <div class="i0">Ah, had my visit been deferr'd,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">Some better things I might have heard;</div> - <div class="i0">But judging from what then occurr'd,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">You seem'd a trifle too absurd,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Oriana</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">From <em>Fun</em>, February 26th, 1873.</p> - -<p>"Oriana," a romantic legend in three acts, by James -Albery, music by F. Clay, was first performed at the Globe -Theatre, on Saturday, February 15th, 1873. The lessee and -manager, Mr. H. J. Montague, performed the part of King -Raymond, that of Oriana being represented by Miss Rose -Massey. The plot was founded on a fairy tale, slightly resembling -Mr. Gilbert's "Palace of Truth," but, beyond the -name, the play had nothing in common with Tennyson's -poem of "Oriana."</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">ARIANA.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>At the Railway Station.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Her parcels, tied with many a knot,</div> - <div class="i1">Were thickly labelled, one and all;</div> - <div class="i0">And sitting down beside the lot,</div> - <div class="i1">She waited for the train to call.</div> - <div class="i0">The waiting-room looked sad and strange—</div> - <div class="i1">Closed was the booking-office latch!</div> - <div class="i1">She watched the sleepy porter scratch</div> - <div class="i0">His head, or whistle as a change;</div> - <div class="i0">She only said, "The night is dreary—</div> - <div class="i1">It cometh not," she said;</div> - <div class="i0">She said, "I am aweary, aweary—</div> - <div class="i1">I would I were in bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She sought the grim refreshment stall—</div> - <div class="i1">The saucy barmaid long had slept;</div> - <div class="i0">O'er biscuit, bun, and sandwich small</div> - <div class="i1">The shining beetles slowly crept.</div> - <div class="i0">Hard by a signal post alway</div> - <div class="i1">Shot coloured beams into the dark.</div> - <div class="i1">She called the porter to remark,</div> - <div class="i0">In tones the opposite of gay:</div> - <div class="i0">"The hour is late, the night is dreary—</div> - <div class="i1">It cometh not," she said;</div> - <div class="i0">Then mentally: "The man is beery—</div> - <div class="i1">I would I were in bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">About the middle of the night</div> - <div class="i1">She heard the shrill steam-whistle blow,</div> - <div class="i0">And saw the signals gleaming bright;</div> - <div class="i1">And from dark pens the oxen's low</div> - <div class="i0">Came to her; but she watched with pain</div> - <div class="i1">A train with many a cattle van</div> - <div class="i1">Sweep past her, and the signal man</div> - <div class="i0">Reversed his lamps, and snoozed again.</div> - <div class="i0">She only said, "The night is dreary—</div> - <div class="i1">It cometh not," she said;</div> - <div class="i0">She said, "I am aweary, aweary,</div> - <div class="i1">Of lamps, green, white, and red!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The tired officials kept aloof,</div> - <div class="i1">The telegraphic wires did sound</div> - <div class="i0">Their notes Æolian on the roof,</div> - <div class="i1">And goods trains shunting did confound</div> - <div class="i0">Her sense; yet still she waited on,</div> - <div class="i1">Until the porter came in sight—</div> - <div class="i1">"There is no other train to-night;</div> - <div class="i0">The next will stop at early dawn."</div> - <div class="i0">She only said, "I am aweary;</div> - <div class="i1">It seems to me," she said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Your tables, like yourself, are beery—</div> - <div class="i0">Go find me now a bed."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">EDDING</span> D<span class="smcapa">RESS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In picturesque confusion lies</div> - <div class="i1">Her scattered finery on the floor,</div> - <div class="i0">And here and there her handmaid flies</div> - <div class="i1">With parcels to increase the store.</div> - <div class="i0">But dolefully she paced the room,</div> - <div class="i1">Although it was her wedding morn,</div> - <div class="i1">And often spoke in tones of scorn,</div> - <div class="i0">And brow of ever-deepening gloom.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">She only said, "The morn is dreary;"</div> - <div class="i3">"It cometh not," she said.</div> - <div class="i2">She said, "The milliner is weary,</div> - <div class="i3">Or stayed too late in bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'See'">She</ins> hears the sound of pipe and drum,</div> - <div class="i1">And from the window looketh she:</div> - <div class="i0">Nodding their heads before her come</div> - <div class="i1">The merry Teuton minstrelsy,</div> - <div class="i0">Who wait to play "The Wedding March."</div> - <div class="i1">A member of the "force" stalks by,</div> - <div class="i1">And little urchins mocking cry,</div> - <div class="i0">"Oh, ain't he swallowed lots o' starch?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">She laughed not, for she heard a chime:</div> - <div class="i3">"Eleven o'clock!" she said.</div> - <div class="i2">"I wonder if 'twill be in time?</div> - <div class="i3">I would that I were wed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How swiftly now the minutes pass.</div> - <div class="i1">With ribbons, laces, pins, and thread—</div> - <div class="i0">With peeps into the looking-glass,</div> - <div class="i1">And tossings of the pretty head.</div> - <div class="i0">Full half an hour of anxious strife;</div> - <div class="i1">But still no wedding dress is there</div> - <div class="i1">To decorate the form so fair</div> - <div class="i0">Of her who would be made a wife.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">"Three quarters!" cried she weeping—weary.</div> - <div class="i3">"It cometh now!" they said.</div> - <div class="i2">The maiden looked no longer dreary,</div> - <div class="i3">But hastened to be wed.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">From <em>Funny Folks</em>.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the <em>Bon Gaultier Ballads</em> is a parody of Lilian -entitled:—</p> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">AROLINE.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">L<span class="smcapa">IGHTSOME</span>, brightsome, cousin mine,</div> - <div class="i2">Easy, breezy, Caroline!</div> - <div class="i0">With thy locks all raven-shaded,</div> - <div class="i0">From thy merry brow up-braided,</div> - <div class="i1">And thine eyes of laughter full,</div> - <div class="i2">Brightsome cousin mine!</div> - <div class="i0">Thou in chains of love hast bound me—</div> - <div class="i0">Wherefore dost thou flit around me,</div> - <div class="i2">Laughter-loving Caroline!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When I fain would go to sleep</div> - <div class="i2">In my easy chair,</div> - <div class="i0">Wherefore on my slumbers creep—</div> - <div class="i0">Wherefore start me from repose,</div> - <div class="i1">Tickling of my hookèd nose,</div> - <div class="i2">Pulling of my hair?</div> - <div class="i0">Wherefore, then, if thou dost love me,</div> - <div class="i0">So to words of anger move me,</div> - <div class="i1">Corking of this face of mine,</div> - <div class="i2">Tricksy cousin Caroline?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Would she only say she'd love me,</div> - <div class="i2">Winsome, tinsome, Caroline,</div> - <div class="i0">Unto such excess 'twould move me,</div> - <div class="i2">Teazing, pleasing, cousin mine!</div> - <div class="i0">That she might the live-long day</div> - <div class="i0">Undermine the snuffer-tray,</div> - <div class="i1">Tickle still my hookèd nose,</div> - <div class="i0">Startle me from calm repose</div> - <div class="i2">With her pretty persecution;</div> - <div class="i0">Throw the tongs against my shins,</div> - <div class="i0">Run me through and through with pins,</div> - <div class="i2">Like a piercèd cushion;</div> - <div class="i0">Would she only say she'd love me,</div> - <div class="i0">Darning-needles should not move me;</div> - <div class="i0">But, reclining back I'd say,</div> - <div class="i0">"Dearest! there's the snuffer-tray;</div> - <div class="i0">Pinch, O pinch those legs of mine!</div> - <div class="i2">Cork me, cousin Caroline!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I next give an extract from a capital parody -of <em>The Merman</em>, taken from <em>The Bon Gaultier -Ballads</em>, in which the allusions to the Laureate's -office are happily introduced.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AUREATE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">W<span class="smcapa">HO</span> would not be</div> - <div class="i6">The Laureate bold,</div> - <div class="i5">With his butt of sherry</div> - <div class="i6">To keep him merry,</div> - <div class="i0">And nothing to do but to pocket his gold?</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis I would be the Laureate bold!</div> - <div class="i0">When the days are hot, and the sun is strong,</div> - <div class="i0">I'd lounge in the gateway all the day long,</div> - <div class="i0">With Her Majesty's footmen in crimson and gold.</div> - <div class="i0">I'd care not a pin for the waiting lord;</div> - <div class="i0">But I'd lie on my back on the smooth greensward</div> - <div class="i0">With a straw in my mouth, and an open vest,</div> - <div class="i0">And the cool wind blowing upon my breast,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'd vacantly stare at the clear blue sky,</div> - <div class="i0">And watch the clouds that are listless as I,</div> - <div class="i10">Lazily, lazily!</div> - <div class="i0">And I'd pick the moss and daisies white,</div> - <div class="i0">And chew their stalks with a nibbling bite;</div> - <div class="i0">And I'd let my fancies roam abroad</div> - <div class="i0">In search of a hint for a birthday ode,</div> - <div class="i10">Crazily, crazily!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft2">*</span> <span class="mleft2">*</span> <span class="mleft2">*</span> <span class="mleft2">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, would not that be a merry life,</div> - <div class="i0">Apart from care and apart from strife,</div> - <div class="i0">With the Laureate's wine, and the Laureate's pay,</div> - <div class="i3">And no deductions at quarter-day!</div> - <div class="i3">Oh, that would be the post for me!</div> - <div class="i0">With plenty to get and nothing to do,</div> - <div class="i0">But to deck a pet poodle with ribbons of blue,</div> - <div class="i0">And whistle a tune to the Queen's cockatoo,</div> - <div class="i0">And scribble of verses remarkably few,</div> - <div class="i0">And at evening empty a bottle or two!</div> - <div class="i10">Quaffingly, quaffingly!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">'Tis I would be</div> - <div class="i6">The Laureate bold,</div> - <div class="i5">With my butt of sherry</div> - <div class="i6">To keep me merry,</div> - <div class="i0">And nothing to do but to pocket my gold!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ERMAID</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>By a disgusted Tar with a vague recollection of</em> T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span>.)</p> - - -<p class="p6">I.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Who would be</div> - <div class="i1">A Mermaid dank.</div> - <div class="i0">Bobbing about</div> - <div class="i1">In a sort of tank,</div> - <div class="i0">For the crowd to see</div> - <div class="i1">At a shilling a head,</div> - <div class="i0">In doubt if it be</div> - <div class="i1">Alive or dead?</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="p6">II.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>I</em> would not be a Mermaid dank,</div> - <div class="i0">Flopping about in a Westminster tank,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a shabby sham at a country fair,</div> - <div class="i0">And by far the ugliest monster there;</div> - <div class="i0">Exposed to the Cockneys' vulgar chaff,</div> - <div class="i0">And the learned gush of the <em>Daily T.</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">To be called a porpoise or ocean-calf,</div> - <div class="i0">Or a seven-foot slug from the deep blue sea.</div> - <div class="i0"><em>Me</em> a Manatee? Dickens a bit!</div> - <div class="i0">The Mermaid of fiction was something fine,</div> - <div class="i0">A fish-tailed Siren given to sit</div> - <div class="i0">On a handy rock, 'midst the breezy brine,</div> - <div class="i0">Each golden curl with a comb of pearl</div> - <div class="i0">Arranging in many a taking twirl,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a free-and-easy nautical girl.</div> - <div class="i0">Taking a bath in a primitive style</div> - <div class="i0">Without any bother of dress or machine,</div> - <div class="i0">And likely the wandering tar to beguile,</div> - <div class="i0">If that Mariner chanced to be anyways green.</div> - <div class="i0">But your Modern Mermaid! good gracious me!</div> - <div class="i0">Who'd be inwiggled away from his tracks</div> - <div class="i0">Or driven to bung up his ears with wax</div> - <div class="i0">By the wiles and smiles of a Manatee?</div> - <div class="i0">A sort of shapeless squab sea-lubber,</div> - <div class="i0">A blundering bulk of leather and blubber,</div> - <div class="i0">Like an overgrown bottle of India-rubber;</div> - <div class="i0">The clumsiest, wobblingest, queerest of creatures,</div> - <div class="i0">With nothing but small gimlet-holes for features.</div> - <div class="i0"><em>This</em> a Mermaid? Oh, don't tell me!</div> - <div class="i0">It's simply some sly scientifical spree,</div> - <div class="i0">And I mean to say it's a thundering shame</div> - <div class="i0">To bestow the Siren's respectable name,</div> - <div class="i0">Which savours of all that is rare and romantic,</div> - <div class="i0">On such a preposterous monster as this is,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose hideous phiz and ridiculous antic,</div> - <div class="i0">Would simply have frightened the mates of Ulysses.</div> - <div class="i0">Fancy the horror of blubberous kisses</div> - <div class="i0">From a mouth that's like a tarpaulin flap!</div> - <div class="i0">That Merman must be a most amorous chap</div> - <div class="i0">Who would sue her and woo her under the sea.</div> - <div class="i0">As T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span> sings—a nice treat it would be</div> - <div class="i0">Were a Mermaid merely a Manatee!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>From <em>Punch</em>, July 20th, 1878, in reference to the so-called -<em>Mermaid</em> then being exhibited at the Westminster Aquarium.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Tennyson's—<em>The Poet</em>—was in fourteen verses -of four lines each; it commenced thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The poet in a golden clime was born,</div> - <div class="i1">With golden stars above;</div> - <div class="i0">Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn,</div> - <div class="i1">The love of love."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill,</div> - <div class="i1">He saw thro' his own soul.</div> - <div class="i0">The marvel of the everlasting will,</div> - <div class="i1">An open scroll,"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Before him lay; with echoing feet he threaded</div> - <div class="i0">The secretest walks of fame:</div> - <div class="i0">The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headed</div> - <div class="i1">And wing'd with flame."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The following parody, which appeared in -<em>Punch</em>, was <em>apropos</em> of the poetry of the so-called -"Fleshly School," and very closely follows the -diction of the original:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">OET</span> (<span class="smcapa">OF THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ERIOD</span>).</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>With Punch's apologies for the application of noble Stanzas to -an ignoble subject.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> Poet in a dismal clime was born,</div> - <div class="i4">With lurid stars above;</div> - <div class="i0">Dower'd with a taste for hate, a love for scorn,</div> - <div class="i8">A scorn for love.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He glanced through life and death, through good and ill,</div> - <div class="i4">He glanced through his own soul;</div> - <div class="i1">And found all dead as a dishonoured bill,</div> - <div class="i8">Or emptied bowl.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He thrummed his lay; with mincing feet he threaded</div> - <div class="i4">The walks of coterie fame:</div> - <div class="i0">On the dull arrows of his thought were threaded</div> - <div class="i9"><em>Concetti</em> tame</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And pop-gun pellets from his lisping tongue,</div> - <div class="i4">Erratic in their flight,</div> - <div class="i0">From studio to drawing-room he flung,</div> - <div class="i8">Filling with light</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And mazèd phantasies each morbid mind,</div> - <div class="i4">Which, albeit lacking wit,</div> - <div class="i0">Like dandelion seeds blown by the wind,</div> - <div class="i8">In weak souls lit,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Took shallow root, and springing up anew</div> - <div class="i4">Where'er they dropt, behold,</div> - <div class="i0">Like to the parent plant in semblance, grew</div> - <div class="i8">A weed as bold,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And fitly furnished all abroad to fling</div> - <div class="i4">Fresh mockeries of truth,</div> - <div class="i0">And throng with poisonous blooms the verdant Spring</div> - <div class="i8">Of weak-kneed youth.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Till many minds were lit with borrowed beams</div> - <div class="i4">Of an unwholesome fire;</div> - <div class="i0">And many fed their sick souls with hot dreams</div> - <div class="i8">Of vague desire.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thus trash was multiplied on trash; the world</div> - <div class="i4">Like a Gehenna glowed,</div> - <div class="i0">And through the clouds of Stygian dark upcurled,</div> - <div class="i8">Foul radiance flowed;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And Licence lifted in that false sunrise</div> - <div class="i4">Her bold and brazen brow;</div> - <div class="i0">While Purity before her burning eyes</div> - <div class="i8">Melted like snow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There was red blood upon her trailing robes,</div> - <div class="i4">Lit by those lurid skies;</div> - <div class="i0">And round the hollow circles of the globes</div> - <div class="i8">Of her hot eyes,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And on her robe's hem, "F<span class="smcapa">OLLY</span>" showed in flames</div> - <div class="i4">With "P<span class="smcapa">HRENSY</span>," names to shake</div> - <div class="i0">Coherency and sense—misleading names—</div> - <div class="i8">And when she spake,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Her words did gather fury as they ran,</div> - <div class="i4">And as mock lightning and stage thunder,</div> - <div class="i0">With firework flash and empty rataplan,</div> - <div class="i8">Make schoolboys wonder,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So thrilled thro' fools her windy words. No sword</div> - <div class="i5">Of truth her right hand twirl'd,</div> - <div class="i0">But one bad Poet's scrawl, and with <em>his</em> word</div> - <div class="i8">She bored the world.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In 1832 Tennyson published another small -volume of poems which contained that beautifully -classical piece of blank verse <em>Œnone;</em> -<em>The Sisters</em>, <em>The Palace of Art</em>, <em>Lady Clara Vere -de Vere</em>, <em>The May Queen</em>, <em>The Lotus-Eaters</em>, <em>The -Dream of Fair Women</em>, and <em>Margaret</em>, all of which -have been so frequently parodied that selection -is indeed difficult.</p> - -<p>The following parody of Tennyson's, <em>The -Sisters</em>, was <em>apropos</em> to a division in the House -of Commons, relative to the vexed question of -marriage with a deceased wife's sister, and -appeared in <em>The Tomahawk</em>.</p> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">ATRIMONIAL</span> E<span class="smcapa">XPEDIENCY</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They were two daughters of one race:</div> - <div class="i0">One dead, the other took her place;</div> - <div class="i1">Brotherly love? oh! fiddle-de-dee!</div> - <div class="i0">The <em>Noes</em> were but one forty-four;</div> - <div class="i0">I'm backed by retrospective law;</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! the <em>Ayes</em> were two forty-three!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Who'd run a tilt 'gainst common sense?</div> - <div class="i0">I married for convenience;</div> - <div class="i1">Brotherly love? oh! fiddle-de-dee!</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis wiser th' ills we <em>know</em> to bear,</div> - <div class="i0">Than run the chance of worse elsewhere;</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! the <em>Ayes</em> were two forty-three!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Twice married—but I'm bound to state</div> - <div class="i0">Th' expediency of this is great;</div> - <div class="i1">Brotherly love? oh! fiddle-de-dee!</div> - <div class="i0">I'm now no worse off than before,</div> - <div class="i0">I only have <em>one</em> mother-in-law,</div> - <div class="i1">And she's one too many for me!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<blockquote> - -<p>A good many years ago a little volume, entitled "<em>Carols -of Cockayne</em>," written by the late Mr. Henry S. Leigh, (who -died June, 1883) had considerable success. It contained a -number of Ballads and Parodies, and amongst others two -amusing imitations of Tennyson (they can hardly be styled -<em>parodies</em>), the first is in answer to the Laureate's somewhat -bitter attack on a lady entitled "Lady Clara Vere de Vere:—"</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Lady Clara V. de V.</div> - <div class="i1">Presents her very best regards</div> - <div class="i0">To that misguided Alfred T.</div> - <div class="i1">(With one of her enamell'd cards).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Though uninclin'd to give offence,</div> - <div class="i1">The Lady Clara begs to hint</div> - <div class="i0">That Master Alfred's common sense</div> - <div class="i1">Deserts him utterly in print.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Lady Clara can but say</div> - <div class="i1">That always from the very first</div> - <div class="i0">She snubb'd in her decisive way</div> - <div class="i1">The hopes that silly Alfred nurs'd.</div> - <div class="i0">The fondest words that ever fell</div> - <div class="i1">From Lady Clara, when they met,</div> - <div class="i0">Were "How d'ye do? I hope you're well!"</div> - <div class="i1">Or else "The weather's very wet."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To show a disregard for truth</div> - <div class="i1">By penning scurrilous attacks,</div> - <div class="i0">Appears to Lady C. in sooth</div> - <div class="i1">Like stabbing folks behind their backs.</div> - <div class="i0">The age of chivalry, she fears,</div> - <div class="i1">Is gone for good, since noble dames</div> - <div class="i0">Who irritate low sonneteers</div> - <div class="i1">Get pelted with improper names.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Lady Clara cannot think</div> - <div class="i1">What kind of pleasure can accrue</div> - <div class="i0">From wasting paper, pens, and ink,</div> - <div class="i1">On statements the reverse of true.</div> - <div class="i0">If Master Launcelot, one fine day,</div> - <div class="i1">(Urged on by madness or by malt,)</div> - <div class="i0">Destroy'd himself—can Alfred say</div> - <div class="i1">The Lady Clara was in fault?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Her Ladyship needs no advice</div> - <div class="i1">How time and money should be spent,</div> - <div class="i0">And can't pursue at any price</div> - <div class="i1">The plan that Alfred T. has sent.</div> - <div class="i0">She does not in the least object</div> - <div class="i1">To let the "foolish yeoman" go,</div> - <div class="i0">But wishes—let him recollect—</div> - <div class="i1">That he should move to Jericho.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The other, a reply to a well known song, is scarcely so -good, because it does not follow its original so closely:—</p> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">AUD.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">AY</span>, I cannot come into the garden just now,</div> - <div class="i1">Tho' it vexes me much to refuse:</div> - <div class="i0">But I <em>must</em> have the next set of waltzes, I vow,</div> - <div class="i1">With Lieutenant de Boots of the Blues.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I am sure you'll be heartily pleas'd when you hear</div> - <div class="i1">That our ball has been quite a success.</div> - <div class="i0">As for <em>me</em>—I've been looking a monster, my dear,</div> - <div class="i1">In that old fashion'd guy of a dress.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You had better at once hurry home, dear, to bed;</div> - <div class="i1">It is getting so dreadfully late.</div> - <div class="i0">You may catch the bronchitis or cold in the head</div> - <div class="i1">If you linger so long at our gate.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Don't be obstinate Alfy; come, take my advice,</div> - <div class="i1">For I know you're in want of repose.</div> - <div class="i0">Take a basin of gruel (you'll find it <em>so</em> nice),</div> - <div class="i1">And remember to tallow your nose.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No, I tell you I can't and I shan't get away,</div> - <div class="i1">For De Boots has implor'd me to sing.</div> - <div class="i0">As to <em>you</em>—if you like it, of course you can stay;</div> - <div class="i1">You were always an obstinate thing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If you feel it a pleasure to talk to the flow'rs</div> - <div class="i1">About "babble and revel and wine,"</div> - <div class="i0">When you might have been snoring for two or three hours,</div> - <div class="i1">Why, it's not the least business of mine.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> - -<p>In 1879 the Editor of <em>The World</em> offered a -prize for the best parody on Tennyson's <em>Lotus-Eaters</em>, -the chosen subject being "Her Majesty's -Ministers at Greenwich."</p> - -<p>The prize was awarded to <em>C. J. Billson</em>, for the -following parody, which appeared in <em>The World</em>, -for September 3rd, 1879:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">HITEBAIT</span>-E<span class="smcapa">ATERS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"C<span class="smcapa">OURAGE</span>!" they said, and pointed through the gloom;</div> - <div class="i1">"There is a haven in yon fishful clime."</div> - <div class="i0">At dinner-time they came into a room,</div> - <div class="i1">In which it seemèd all day dinner-time.</div> - <div class="i0">All in the midst the banquet rose sublime,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose <em>menu</em> excellent no tongue might blame;</div> - <div class="i0">And round about the board, without their Prime,</div> - <div class="i1">Without their prime delight and chiefest fame,</div> - <div class="i0">The mild-eyed muddle-headed whitebait-eaters came.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They sat them down upon the yellow chairs,</div> - <div class="i1">And feasted gaily as in days of yore;</div> - <div class="i0">And sweet it was to jest of late affairs,</div> - <div class="i1">Of Ward and Power and Cat; but evermore</div> - <div class="i0">Most weary seemed the Session almost o'er,</div> - <div class="i1">Weary Hibernian nights of barren seed.</div> - <div class="i0">Then some one said, "We shall come here no more!"</div> - <div class="i1">And all at once they cried, "No more, indeed!</div> - <div class="i0">The ballot shall release; we will no longer lead!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">HORIC</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Why are we weighed upon with weariness,</div> - <div class="i1">With foreign crises and with home distress,</div> - <div class="i1">When all we do is mocked at by the Press?</div> - <div class="i1">All men like peace: why should we toil alone?</div> - <div class="i1">We always toil, and nevermore have rest;</div> - <div class="i1">But yield perpetual jest,</div> - <div class="i1">Still from one blunder to another thrown:</div> - <div class="i1">Nor ever pack our tricks,</div> - <div class="i1">And cease from politics;</div> - <div class="i1">Nor vote our last against the wild O'Connor;</div> - <div class="i1">Nor hearken what the moving spirit said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Let there be Peace with Honour!"</div> - <div class="i0">Why should we always toil, when England's trust is dead?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Let us alone. What pleasure could we have</div> - <div class="i1">To war with Afghans? But the Chief said "Fight!</div> - <div class="i1">The times are perilous and the Jingoes rave,</div> - <div class="i1">Whate'er I do is right."</div> - <div class="i1">Yea, interests are hard to reconcile;</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis hard to please yet help the little isle;</div> - <div class="i1">We have done neither quite.</div> - <div class="i0">Though we change the music ever, yet the people scorn our song;</div> - <div class="i1">O rest ye, brother Ministers, we shall not labour long.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcapa">AUGUSTO MENSE POETA</span>.<br /> -(<em>C. J. Billson.</em>)</p> - - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the year 1868, when the mania for trapeze -performances was at its height, and men and -women were nightly risking their lives to please -the thoughtless audiences at the music halls, -<em>The Tomahawk</em> had some powerful cartoons -(drawn by Matt Morgan) in condemnation of this -senseless and dangerous form of entertainment; -it also published the following parody of—</p> - - -<h3>A D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> F<span class="smcapa">AIR</span> W<span class="smcapa">OMEN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I read, before I fell into a doze,</div> - <div class="i1">Some book about old fashions—curious tales</div> - <div class="i0">Of bye-gone fancies—kirtles and trunk hose—</div> - <div class="i1">Of hoops, and fardingales—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Of mediæval milliners, whose taste</div> - <div class="i1">Preluded our vile fashions of to day—</div> - <div class="i0">Of how they moulded the ancestral waist</div> - <div class="i1">With steel-bound taffeta—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Of powdered heroes of the later days—</div> - <div class="i1">Of Hamlets strutting in their full court suits,</div> - <div class="i0">Slouch-hatted villains of transpontine plays,</div> - <div class="i1">All belt and bucket boots—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So shape chased shape (as swiftly as, when knocks</div> - <div class="i1">Of angry tradesmen bluster at the door,</div> - <div class="i0">Turgid with envelopes my letter box</div> - <div class="i1">Boils over on the floor).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Till fancy, running riot in my brain,</div> - <div class="i1">Elbowed the P<span class="smcapa">AST</span> from out the P<span class="smcapa">RESENT'S</span> way;</div> - <div class="i0">And opened in my dream, distinct and plain,</div> - <div class="i1">A vision of to-day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Methought that I was on what's called "a spree,"</div> - <div class="i1">Yet sadly pensive in the motley throng.</div> - <div class="i0">Where thrills through clouds of smoke the melody</div> - <div class="i1">Of idiotic song;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Where youth with tipsy rapture drowns in beer</div> - <div class="i1">All common sense, votes decency a bore,</div> - <div class="i0">But, to the shapely limbs and sensuous leer,</div> - <div class="i1">Yells out a loud "Encore—"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then flashed before me in the gaslights' glare</div> - <div class="i1">A form to make the boldest hold his breath,</div> - <div class="i0">She, who by reckless leapings in mid air,</div> - <div class="i1">Plays pitch and toss with Death.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Shame on the gaping crowds who only know</div> - <div class="i1">Sensation in the chance of broken necks!</div> - <div class="i0">Shame on the manliness that cries "Bravo"</div> - <div class="i1">To such a scorn of sex!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I saw that now, since License holds such sway,</div> - <div class="i1">The comic muse her false position feels,</div> - <div class="i0">And that her sister may not gain the day,</div> - <div class="i1">Has taken to her heels.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And then methought I stood in fairy bowers,</div> - <div class="i1">Where Dulness hides behind the mask of Fun,</div> - <div class="i0">Where tin-foil and Dutch metal do for flowers,</div> - <div class="i1">And lime-light is the sun;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Where Art groans under an unseemly ban,</div> - <div class="i1">And airy nothings pass for full attire,</div> - <div class="i0">The Stage appeals but to the baser man,</div> - <div class="i1">And th' only blush, Red Fire!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">Then starting I awoke from my nightmare.</div> - <div class="i1">A nightmare? No! the truth came clear to me.</div> - <div class="i0">I'd dream'd the truth—bare facts (O much too bare!)</div> - <div class="i1">And stern reality.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>An Extract from the original M<span class="smcapa">ARGARET</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">O, <span class="smcapa">SWEET</span> pale Margaret,</div> - <div class="i4">O, rare pale Margaret,</div> - <div class="i0">What lit your eyes with tearful power,</div> - <div class="i0">Like moonlight on a falling shower?</div> - <div class="i0">Who lent you, love, your mortal dower</div> - <div class="i2">Of pensive thought and aspect pale,</div> - <div class="i2">Your melancholy sweet and frail</div> - <div class="i0">As perfume of the cuckoo-power?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What can it matter, Margaret,</div> - <div class="i1">What songs below the waning stars</div> - <div class="i0">The lion-heart, Plantagenet,</div> - <div class="i1">Sang, looking thro' his prison bars?</div> - <div class="i2">Exquisite Margaret, who can tell</div> - <div class="i0">The last wild thought of Chatelet,</div> - <div class="i1">Just ere the fallen axe did part</div> - <div class="i1">The burning brain from the true heart,</div> - <div class="i0">Even in her sight he loved so well?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">ARY</span> A<span class="smcapa">NN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>(After Mr. Tennyson's "Margaret.")</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">O, slipshod Mary Ann,</div> - <div class="i4">O, draggled Mary Ann,</div> - <div class="i0">What gives your arms such fearful power</div> - <div class="i0">To raise the dust in blinding shower?</div> - <div class="i0">Who gave you strength, your mortal dower,</div> - <div class="i2">To beat the mats as with a flail.</div> - <div class="i2">To lift with ease that heavy pail?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What can it matter, Mary Ann,</div> - <div class="i1">What songs the long-legged son of Mars—</div> - <div class="i0">The butcher or the cat's meat man—</div> - <div class="i1">Sings to you thro' the area bars?</div> - <div class="i2">O, red-armed Mary, you may tell</div> - <div class="i0">The milkman, when he fills our can,</div> - <div class="i1">You wonder how he has the heart</div> - <div class="i1">To let the pump play such a part</div> - <div class="i2">In milk for her he loves so well!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You stand not in such attitudes,</div> - <div class="i1">You are not quite so plain,</div> - <div class="i0">Nor so sulky in your moods,</div> - <div class="i1">As your twin-sister, Mary Jane,</div> - <div class="i0">Your face is cleaner, and your nose</div> - <div class="i1">Not touched with such a grimy hue,</div> - <div class="i1">With cold ærially blue,</div> - <div class="i0">Or crimson as the damask rose!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">A<span class="smcapa">LBANY</span> C<span class="smcapa">LARKE</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">From <em>The Weekly Dispatch</em>, 25th June, 1882.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>It is in the strongly marked individuality of -some of Tennyson's early poems that we find, -at once, the secret of much of his popularity, -and the excuse for the vast number of parodies -of his works scattered about in nearly all our -humorous literature; and three of the early -poems have been especially chosen by parodists -as models for imitation; these are the "May -Queen," "Locksley Hall," and the "Charge of -the Light Brigade."</p> - -<p>In the "Bon Gaultier Ballads" by Theodore -Martin and Professor Aytoun, will be found -several parodies of Tennyson, also of Lord -Macaulay, Tom Moore, Bulwer Lytton, Mrs. -Browning, and of Leigh Hunt, of whom parodies -are rare.</p> - -<p>Of the parodies of Tennyson, "Caroline" and -"The Laureate" have already been quoted; the -others are "The Lay of the Lovelorn" and -"The Dirge of the Drinker," both in imitation -of "Locksley Hall," "La Mort D'Arthur," concerning -Mechi's steel; and the "The Biter Bit."</p> - -<p>"The Biter Bit" is a kind of burlesque continuation -of the "May Queen," the tender -pathos of the original being turned into cynical -indifference, whilst preserving a great similarity -of style and versification.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New Year,</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest merriest day;</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came up the valley whom think ye I should see,</div> - <div class="i0">But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?</div> - <div class="i0">He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,—</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be:</div> - <div class="i0">They say his heart is breaking, mother—what is that to me?</div> - <div class="i0">There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer day,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i12">T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ITER</span> B<span class="smcapa">IT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> sun is in the sky, mother, the flowers are springing fair,</div> - <div class="i0">And the melody of woodland birds is stirring in the air;</div> - <div class="i0">The river, smiling to the sky, glides onward to the sea,</div> - <div class="i0">And happiness is everywhere, oh mother, but with me!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They are going to the church, mother,—I hear the marriage bell:</div> - <div class="i0">It booms along the upland, oh! it haunts me like a knell;</div> - <div class="i0">He leads her on his arm, mother, he cheers her faltering step,</div> - <div class="i0">And closely by his side she clings,—she does, the demirep!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They are crossing by the stile, mother, where we so oft have stood,</div> - <div class="i0">The stile beside the shady thorn, at the corner of the wood;</div> - <div class="i0">And the boughs, that wont to murmur back the words that won my ear,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Wave their silver blossoms o'er him, as he leads his bridal fere.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He will pass beside the stream, mother, where first my hand he pressed,</div> - <div class="i0">By the meadow where, with quivering lip, his passion he confessed:</div> - <div class="i0">And down the hedgerows where we've strayed again and yet again;</div> - <div class="i0">But he will not think of me, mother, his broken-hearted Jane!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He said that I was proud, mother,—that I looked for rank and gold;</div> - <div class="i0">He said I did not love him,—he said my words were cold;</div> - <div class="i0">He said I kept him off and on, in hopes of higher game,—</div> - <div class="i0">And it may be that I did, mother, but who hasn't done the same?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I did not know my heart, mother,—I know it now too late;</div> - <div class="i0">I thought that I without a pang could wed some nobler mate;</div> - <div class="i0">But no nobler suitor sought me,—and he has taken wing.</div> - <div class="i0">And my heart is gone, and I am left a lone and blighted thing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You may lay me in my bed, mother,—my head is throbbing sore,</div> - <div class="i0">And mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before;</div> - <div class="i0">And if you'd do a kindness to your poor desponding child,</div> - <div class="i0">Draw me a pot of beer, mother,—and, mother, draw it mild!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AY</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span> C<span class="smcapa">ORRECTED</span>—May, 1879.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They must wrap and cloak me warmly, cloak me warmly mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrow is the iciest day of all the sad new year.</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the sad new year, mother, the snowiest, blowiest day,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">ARTED</span> A<span class="smcapa">WAY.</span></h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Farewell Ode to the Brompton Boilers.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">There's a work I wouldn't miss for worlds, a sight my heart does cheer:</div> - <div class="i0">Well, I know you'll not believe, mother, a word of what I say;</div> - <div class="i0">But they're carting the boilers away, mother, they're carting the boilers away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a black eye, of course, a moral one I mean,</div> - <div class="i0">Has been exchanged about them, for many a fight they've seen;</div> - <div class="i0">But no more need of cavil now, the fact's as plain as day,</div> - <div class="i0">They're carting the boilers away, mother, they're carting the boilers away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Good taste had slept so sound, mother, I thought t'would never wake.</div> - <div class="i0">But the Press, at last, has given it a most decided shake;</div> - <div class="i0">Yes, at length it's up and doing, oh! and isn't Brompton gay</div> - <div class="i0">While they re carting its boilers away, mother, they're carting its boilers away!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came up from Knightsbridge whom think ye I should see,</div> - <div class="i0">But, Mr. Cole, my ancient friend, best known as our C.B.!</div> - <div class="i0">He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday—</div> - <div class="i0">And he carted the boilers away, mother, he carted the boilers away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You know it is his boast, mother, that in bricks all red and white,</div> - <div class="i0">He means to raise, on what appears an eligible ground site,</div> - <div class="i0">A palace for which Parliament will very gladly pay—</div> - <div class="i0">When the boilers are carted away, mother, the boilers are carted away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The turnstile and refreshment rooms, umbrella man, and charts,</div> - <div class="i0">The chimney pots, paints, plaster casts, and analysed jam tarts,</div> - <div class="i0">Yes, all are gone! No longer art her triumphs can display,</div> - <div class="i0">For they've carted her boilers away, mother, they've carted her boilers away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The cabs they come and go, mother, the omnibuses pass,</div> - <div class="i0">The public scarce believe their eyes; they think the thing a farce,</div> - <div class="i0">They'd got resigned to Brompton, thought its boilers meant to stay!</div> - <div class="i0">Yet they're carting those boilers away, mother, they're carting those boilers away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">South Kensington no more, mother, need fear to be despised,</div> - <div class="i0">The three most ugly <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'thinks'">things</ins> on earth, man ever yet devised,</div> - <div class="i0">No longer shall scare fashion off, and keep the world at bay;</div> - <div class="i0">Yes, the boilers are carted away, mother, the boilers are carted away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So please call me very early—Oh! I mean it—mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">For I wouldn't miss the sight for worlds, it's such a bright idea;</div> - <div class="i0">They're nearly done—a pole or two will go and then—hooray!</div> - <div class="i0">The boilers are carted away, mother, are carted for ever away!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<blockquote><p>The following appeared in <em>The Referee</em>, in 1882:—</p></blockquote> - -<p>"Chief Justice May has scandalously prejudged -the Land League case, and in common decency -he should not be allowed to try it. A fair trial -is impossible after the partisanship which in the -vilest possible taste this person has displayed. -It is not the practice even now in Ireland to -hang people first and try them afterwards, and -May may congratulate himself upon having done -the very worst thing in his power for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -Government brief, which, sitting in judgment, -he had the effrontery to flaunt in the face of the -accused."</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AY OF THE</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>The Land League Boy to his Mother</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake and call me early; call me early, mother dear;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow will be the saddest time of Ireland's sad new year.</div> - <div class="i0">Of all this threat'ning year, mother, the blackest, foulest, day,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a black, black crime, mother, they charge against your lad;</div> - <div class="i0">There's Boycotting and murder, and everything that's bad;</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm bound to be convicted, though innocent, they say—</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You know I wasn't there, mother, when all the row was made;</div> - <div class="i0">I never made a wicked speech, or led a Land League raid;</div> - <div class="i0">But the judge has made up his mind to put your boy away—</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be tried by Judge May, mother, I'm to be tried by Judge May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">For at ten o'clock, before the Court, I'm summoned to appear.</div> - <div class="i0">There's little chance of justice, he's a partisan they say—</div> - <div class="i0">This fierce and biassed judge, mother, this Lord Chief Justice May.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">LAY</span> K<span class="smcapa">ING</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Not included in Mr. Tennyson's New Volume</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You may take and bill me early, bill me early, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span> dear;</div> - <div class="i0">I'm going to make the biggest hit of all the coming year;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the coming year, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, the safest spec to pay;</div> - <div class="i0">For <em>I'm</em> going to write you a play, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, I'm going to write you a play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's lots of blank, blank verse, you know, but none so neat as mine;</div> - <div class="i0">There's G<span class="smcapa">ILBERT</span>, and there's W<span class="smcapa">ILLS</span>, and—well, some others in their line;</div> - <div class="i0">But none of them are Laureates, though clever in their way;</div> - <div class="i0">So <em>I'm</em> going to write you a play, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, I'm going to write you a play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Twill be all right at night, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, on that my name I'll stake:</div> - <div class="i0">I've got a good Egyptian plot, that's safe, I'm told, to take.</div> - <div class="i0">You're poisoned in a temple, Miss T<span class="smcapa">ERRY</span> dies at bay—</div> - <div class="i0">I <em>am</em> writing you such a play, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, I am writing you such a play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came towards the theatre, whom think ye I should see,</div> - <div class="i0">But Messrs. H<span class="smcapa">ARE</span> and K<span class="smcapa">ENDAL</span>, looking sorrowful at me?</div> - <div class="i0">They were thinking of <em>The Falcon</em> I wrote but yesterday,</div> - <div class="i0">And they didn't ask me for a play, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, they didn't ask me for a play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I know your ghost draws well, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, but don't be in a fright,</div> - <div class="i0">My <em>forte</em> isn't stage-effect: when I write plays, I <em>write</em>.</div> - <div class="i0">You'll have five pages at a time,—as much as you can say;</div> - <div class="i0">But a Poet is writing your play, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, a Poet is writing your play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Some critics tell me that my place is not behind the scenes;</div> - <div class="i0">That if I must descend I might stop short at magazines.</div> - <div class="i0">But as <em>Queen Mary</em> from the doors the money turned away,</div> - <div class="i0">You must long for another big play, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, you must long for another big play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For fads and fancies grow, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, to wither like the grass,—</div> - <div class="i0">The latest, <em>culture;</em>—and for that, my name doth current pass.</div> - <div class="i0">So that's why, though I can't construct, and you feel all astray,</div> - <div class="i0">You've asked me to write you a play, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, you've asked me to write you a play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So take and bill me early, bill me early H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, dear;</div> - <div class="i0">I'm going to make the biggest hit of all the coming year;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the coming year, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>:—and if it shouldn't pay:—</div> - <div class="i0">Still <em>I</em> shall have written your play, H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span>, <em>I</em> shall have written your play!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">From <em>Punch</em>, December 4th, 1880.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote> - -<p>These verses had reference to the announcement that the -Poet Laureate was writing a tragedy to be produced at the -Lyceum Theatre.—<em>The Cup</em> was indeed a greater success than -most of Mr. Tennyson's previous dramatic productions, but it -owed its popularity to splendid acting, and the magnificent -<em>mise-en-scene</em>, far more than to its merits as a <em>play</em>, beautiful -as it was as a poem.—It was produced on the 19th February, -1881.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> - -<p>In <em>The Referee</em> for December 2, 1882, the following -parodies were published. It will be -noticed that the first part imitates Cowper's -<em>John Gilpin</em>, the second part Tennyson's <em>May -Queen</em>, and the third part Campbell's <em>Hohenlinden</em>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I beg very humbly to submit a poem to the</div> - <div class="i0">Royal Family, the Bench, the Bar, and the</div> - <div class="i0">British public on the opening of the new Law</div> - <div class="i0">Courts."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>A M<span class="smcapa">EDLEY FOR</span> M<span class="smcapa">ONDAY</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">John Bulljohn was a citizen</div> - <div class="i5">Of credit and renown,</div> - <div class="i4">Of Volunteers a captain he</div> - <div class="i5">Of famous London town.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">John Bulljohn's mother said, "My dear,</div> - <div class="i5">Though living here we've been</div> - <div class="i4">This goodness knows how long, yet we</div> - <div class="i5">Have never seen the Queen.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">"To-morrow to the new Law Courts</div> - <div class="i5">Our sovereign does repair;"</div> - <div class="i4">Says John, "Good gracious! so she does—</div> - <div class="i5">Dear mother, we'll be there."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">And ere he went to bed, J. B.</div> - <div class="i5">His aged ma did kiss;</div> - <div class="i4">And, feeling like a boy again,</div> - <div class="i5">Did softly warble this:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear—</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all this famous year;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all this famous year, mother, the grandest, jolliest day,</div> - <div class="i0">For look on our Queen we may, mother, look on our Queen we may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a loyal heart, they say, but none so true as mine,</div> - <div class="i0">There's Sandy and there's Dougal, across the Border line;</div> - <div class="i0">But none so true as Johnny, not e'en by Alum Bay,</div> - <div class="i0">So look on my Queen I may, mother, look on my Queen I may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All the Strand, dear mother, 'll be gay with flag and green;</div> - <div class="i0">And they're selling seats in windows for gold to see the Queen;</div> - <div class="i0">O long shall Johnny remember the Law Courts' opening day,</div> - <div class="i0">When look on the Queen he may, mother, look on the Queen he may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">In London when the Queen was low,</div> - <div class="i4">Too sad at heart about to go,</div> - <div class="i4">Or in our streets her face to show</div> - <div class="i8">Did loyalty fade rapidly.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">But London saw another sight</div> - <div class="i4">When she, our Liege, recovered quite,</div> - <div class="i4">Came, on a morning clear and bright,</div> - <div class="i8">Through arches, flags, and greenery.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">To where the new Law Courts were made,</div> - <div class="i4">Attended by a cavalcade.</div> - <div class="i4">O, how the English crowd hoorayed!</div> - <div class="i8">And all was joy and revelry.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">Then shook the sky with thunder riven,</div> - <div class="i4">For never heartier cheers were given,</div> - <div class="i4">As through the streets the Queen was driven,</div> - <div class="i8">Attended by her soldiery.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The longest and most important work (by -many also considered the finest) of Alfred -Tennyson is the collection of Arthurian Idyls, -known as the <em>Idyls of the King</em>. These were -originally published in detached parts, in somewhat -irregular order, but in recent editions -the Author has striven to arrange them in -a consecutive and more connected form.</p> - -<p>The first to appear in order of date was the -<em>Morte d'Arthur</em>, which was published in the -1842 volume, in the later arrangement of the -poems this has been absorbed into the last Idyl, -entitled "<em>The Passing of Arthur</em>."</p> - -<blockquote><p>In the original it commenced thus:—</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"So all day long the noise of battle roll'd</div> - <div class="i0">Among the mountains by the winter sea;</div> - <div class="i0">Until King Arthur's table, man by man,</div> - <div class="i0">Had fall'n in Lyonness about their Lord,</div> - <div class="i0">King Arthur; then because his wound was deep,</div> - <div class="i0">The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,</div> - <div class="i0">Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights,</div> - <div class="i0">And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,</div> - <div class="i0">A broken chancel with a broken cross,</div> - <div class="i0">That stood on a dark strait of barren land.</div> - <div class="i0">On one side lay the Ocean, and on one</div> - <div class="i0">Lay a great water, and the moon was full.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The sequel of to-day unsolders all</div> - <div class="i0">The goodliest fellowship of famous knights</div> - <div class="i0">Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep</div> - <div class="i0">They sleep—the men I loved. I think that we</div> - <div class="i0">Shall never more, at any future time,</div> - <div class="i0">Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,</div> - <div class="i0">Walking about the gardens and the halls</div> - <div class="i0">Of Camelot, as in the days that were.</div> - <div class="i0">I perish by this people which I made,—</div> - <div class="i0">Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again</div> - <div class="i0">To rule once more—but let what will be, be,</div> - <div class="i0">I am so deeply smitten through the helm</div> - <div class="i0">That without help I cannot last till morn.</div> - <div class="i0">Thou, therefore, take my brand Excalibur,</div> - <div class="i0">Which was my pride:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">take Excalibur,</div> - <div class="i0">And fling him far into the middle mere:</div> - <div class="i0">Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> - -<p>This mission was distasteful to Sir Bedivere, who exclaims:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And if indeed I cast the brand away,</div> - <div class="i0">Surely a precious thing, one worthy note,</div> - <div class="i0">Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,</div> - <div class="i0">Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.</div> - <div class="i0">What good should follow this, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'if'">if</ins> this were done?</div> - <div class="i0">What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey,</div> - <div class="i0">Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.</div> - <div class="i0">Were it well to obey then, if a king demand</div> - <div class="i0">An act unprofitable against himself?</div> - <div class="i0">The King is sick, and knows not what he does.</div> - <div class="i0">What record, or what relic of my lord</div> - <div class="i0">Should be to aftertime, but empty breath</div> - <div class="i0">And rumours of a doubt? but were this kept,</div> - <div class="i0">Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings,</div> - <div class="i0">Some one might show it at a joust of arms,</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalibur.'"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Thus much of the original must indeed be in one's thoughts -ere the <em>Voyage de Guillaume</em> can be appreciated; it recounts -the holiday trip of the Prime Minister to the north in September, -1883. It will be remembered that Mr. Gladstone -was the guest of Sir Donald Currie, on board the <em>Pembroke -Castle</em>, and that Alfred Tennyson was also one of the party.</p> - - -<h3>V<span class="smcapa">OYAGE DE</span> G<span class="smcapa">UILLAUME</span>.—A F<span class="smcapa">RAGMENT</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote><p>To the Editor of the <em>St. James's Gazette</em>.</p> - -<p>S<span class="smcapa">IR</span>,—I have received the following lines from North -Britain. Evidently it was not without reason that the Prime -Minister was accompanied on his cruise by the Poet -Laureate.—I am, Sir, your obedient servant, <span class="shiftright">H. H.</span></p></blockquote> - - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">* <span class="mleft5">*</span> <span class="mleft5">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">—So all the year the noise of talk had roared</div> - <div class="i0">Before the Speaker's chair at Westminster,</div> - <div class="i0">Until King Guillaume's council, man by man</div> - <div class="i0">Were tired to death, as also was their Chief,</div> - <div class="i0">King Guillaume. Then, observing he was bored,</div> - <div class="i0">The bold Sir Donald C. invited him</div> - <div class="i0">(Sir Donald C., the last of all his knights)</div> - <div class="i0">And bore him off to Barrow by the sea—</div> - <div class="i0">Barrow-in-Furness, with a ruined church</div> - <div class="i0">That stood beside the melancholy waves.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Then spoke King Guillaume to Sir Donald C.:</div> - <div class="i0">"Next session will most probably upset</div> - <div class="i0">The goodliest Ministry of virtuous men</div> - <div class="i0">Whereof this world holds record. Not for long</div> - <div class="i0">Shall we contrive our schemes of policy,</div> - <div class="i0">Meeting within the offices and halls</div> - <div class="i0">Of Downing Street, as in the days that were.</div> - <div class="i0">I perish by these voters which I make—</div> - <div class="i0">Although Sir Andrew says that I may live</div> - <div class="i0">To rule once more; but let what will be, be.</div> - <div class="i0">He tells me that it is not good for me</div> - <div class="i0">To cut down oaks at Haw'rden, as before.</div> - <div class="i0">Thou, therefore, take my axe Exbrummagem,</div> - <div class="i0">Which was my pride—for thou rememberest how</div> - <div class="i0">The lustiest tree would fall beneath my strokes—</div> - <div class="i0">But now delay not; take Exbrummagem,</div> - <div class="i0">And fling him overboard when out at sea."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Then bold Sir Donald took Exbrummagem,</div> - <div class="i0">And went, and lighted his cigar, and thought:</div> - <div class="i0">"And if, indeed, I cast the axe away,</div> - <div class="i0">Surely a precious thing, one worthy note,</div> - <div class="i0">Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,</div> - <div class="i0">Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The King is cross, and knows not what he says.</div> - <div class="i0">What record, or what relic of my lord,</div> - <div class="i0">Should be to aftertime, but empty breath</div> - <div class="i0">Condensed in Hansard's books? But were this kept,</div> - <div class="i0">Preserved in some Mechanics' Institute,</div> - <div class="i0">It might be brought out by some lecturer,</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, 'King Guillaume's axe, Exbrummagem,</div> - <div class="i0">With which he cut down trees at Hawarden!'</div> - <div class="i0">So might he illustrate a stupid speech</div> - <div class="i0">To all the people, winning reverence."</div> - <div class="i2">So spake he, thinking of constituents,</div> - <div class="i0">And kept Exbrummagem for future use.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Then came Sir Donald, gave the King his arm,</div> - <div class="i0">And brought him to the margin of the sea.</div> - <div class="i0">And at his call there hove a roomy barge,</div> - <div class="i0">Manned with a gallant crew from stem to stern;</div> - <div class="i0">And so they entered, and put off, and reached</div> - <div class="i0">The stately <em>Pembroke Castle</em>, and were ware</div> - <div class="i0">That all the decks were dense with manly forms</div> - <div class="i0">In naval caps and jackets, and with these</div> - <div class="i0">Three dames in yachting suits; and from them rose</div> - <div class="i0">A cheer of greeting, and they stretched their hands,</div> - <div class="i0">Took him on board, and laughed, and petted him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And so they sailed; and while the sea was calm</div> - <div class="i0">They talked, and sang, and feasted much, and had,</div> - <div class="i0">In Yankee parlance, "quite a high old time."</div> - <div class="i0">But when the wind blew, and the waves arose,</div> - <div class="i0">It sometimes happened that the grand old face</div> - <div class="i0">Was white and colourless, and cries of "Steward!"</div> - <div class="i0">Proceeded from the lips of eloquence.</div> - <div class="i0">And like a prostrate oak-tree lay the King</div> - <div class="i0">Wrapped in a shepherd's plaid and mackintosh:</div> - <div class="i0">Not like that Guillaume who, with collars high,</div> - <div class="i0">From brow to boot a meteor of debate,</div> - <div class="i0">Shot through the lists at Westminster, and charged</div> - <div class="i0">The serried ranks of bold Conservatives.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>The St. James's Gazette</em>, Sept. 19, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the same 1842 volume, appeared "Godiva," -"Locksley Hall," "Break, Break, Break," and -"The Eagle," of each of which there are some -excellent parodies.—The old legend of Lady -Godiva, so beautifully retold in blank verse by the -Laureate, has recently been sadly vulgarised -by the processions at Coventry, and the following -poem describes, not unfairly, the scene in -which a somewhat prominent actress stooped -to sustain the part of the <em>Lady Godiva</em>.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ODERN</span> L<span class="smcapa">ADY</span> G<span class="smcapa">ODIVA</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1"><em>I journeyed by the train to Coventry;</em></div> - <div class="i1"><em>I pleased a groom with porter near the bridge,</em></div> - <div class="i1"><em>And asked which way the pageant came; and then</em></div> - <div class="i1"><em>I saw it pass—'twas passing strange—and this</em></div> - <div class="i1"><em>Is what they've turned the City's legend to.</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not even were it to remove a tax</div> - <div class="i0">Could a Godiva ride abroad to-day</div> - <div class="i0">As she rode forth a thousand summers back:</div> - <div class="i0">Lord Campbell's Act, and Collette both forbid!</div> - <div class="i0">Still did the people clamour for a show;</div> - <div class="i0">So was it settled there should be forthwith</div> - <div class="i0">A pageant such as Coventry did love.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Whence came it that, whilst yet the sunny moon</div> - <div class="i0">Of roses showed her crescent horn; the day</div> - <div class="i0">Fix'd for the pageant dawn'd on Coventry;</div> - <div class="i0">And Sanger—he of circus fame—arose</div> - <div class="i0">Betimes; for much was on his mind. Perchance</div> - <div class="i0">An elephant had shed its trunk; perchance</div> - <div class="i0">Some giant camel had "the hump" too much;</div> - <div class="i0">Or piebald horse had moulted all its spots.</div> - <div class="i0">Most feared he, though, lest she who had agreed</div> - <div class="i0">To act Godiva, having slept on it,</div> - <div class="i0">Should from her bargain flinch; so sought he her</div> - <div class="i0">With, "Well, and ride you through the town to-day?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And she—for eggs and toast had made her bold—</div> - <div class="i0">"Ay, that will I!" Then he: "'Tis well!" and went</div> - <div class="i0">And whistled as he walked.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">She, left alone,</div> - <div class="i0">When the effect of eggs and toast had gone,</div> - <div class="i0">Did half repent her promise; then again</div> - <div class="i0">Thought of her fee, and so grew bold once more.</div> - <div class="i0">And as she sat, rejoicing that 'twas warm,</div> - <div class="i0">There came the sound of trumpet and of drum,</div> - <div class="i0">And driving past she saw the circus car,</div> - <div class="i0">And on it was a placard calling all</div> - <div class="i0">Good people to come forth and gaze at her.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Then knew she that undressing time had come,</div> - <div class="i0">So sped her to the inner room, and there</div> - <div class="i0">Unhook'd the clinging bodice of her frock,</div> - <div class="i0">Hair-pinned on locks to show'r down to her knee,</div> - <div class="i0">Donned the rose "fleshings" that she was to wear;</div> - <div class="i0">Then throwing on a shawl she waited there</div> - <div class="i0">Till such time as they brought her palfrey, trapt</div> - <div class="i0">In purple, blazoned with armorial gold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">So came at last the sound of pattering hoofs,</div> - <div class="i0">And up the stairs a voice, "The 'oss is come!"</div> - <div class="i0">And tripping to the door she found a steed,</div> - <div class="i0">Milk-white and bony, meek, and pink of eye,</div> - <div class="i0">And with a chair and Mr. Sanger's help</div> - <div class="i0">Clomb on his back, and then one bang'd a door</div> - <div class="i0">And shouted, "Right!" and so the charger past.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Thus rode she forth, clothed on with scantiness,</div> - <div class="i0">And in the pageant duly took her place,</div> - <div class="i0">Along with camels and with elephants</div> - <div class="i0">And men-in-armour, weakest at the knee,</div> - <div class="i0">And Foresters with horns that wouldn't blow,</div> - <div class="i0">And clumsy bows, and Odd-fellows as well,</div> - <div class="i0">In fool regalia; and the Volunteers,</div> - <div class="i0">And Fire Brigade, and several brazen bands.</div> - <div class="i0">But chiefly 'twas on her all eyes were fix'd,</div> - <div class="i0">And women wondered what she could have got</div> - <div class="i0">For making of herself a show; and men</div> - <div class="i0">Opined that cotton wool she'd freely used;</div> - <div class="i0">And one low churl, compact of thankless earth,</div> - <div class="i0">Drawing a pin and rushing at her horse</div> - <div class="i0">Prick'd—but it was no good, the steed jogged on</div> - <div class="i0">As theretofore: and thanks to frequent bangs</div> - <div class="i0">And shouts of "Right" did reach the end at last</div> - <div class="i0">Of the day's progress, much to its delight.</div> - <div class="i0">And she was glad, and hastening to her room</div> - <div class="i0">She slipp'd her garments on, and issuing claim'd</div> - <div class="i0">Her fee, and took the earliest train to town,</div> - <div class="i0">And in the ballet, in the foremost row,</div> - <div class="i0">Danced with her fellows, winning great renown,</div> - <div class="i0">As one who rode through Coventry in "tights,"</div> - <div class="i0">And built herself an evanescent name.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>.</h3> - - -<blockquote><p>Tennyson writes thus:—</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">On thy cold gray stones, O sea!</div> - <div class="i0">And I would that my tongue could utter</div> - <div class="i1">The thoughts that arise in me."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O well for the fisherman's boy,</div> - <div class="i1">That he shouts with his sister at play!</div> - <div class="i0">O well for the sailor lad,</div> - <div class="i1">That he sings in his boat on the bay!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And the stately ships go on</div> - <div class="i1">To their haven under the hill;</div> - <div class="i0">But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,</div> - <div class="i1">And the sound of a voice that is still!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!</div> - <div class="i0">But the tender grace of a day that is dead</div> - <div class="i1">Will never come back to me."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Of this he has had numerous imitators:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">O</span> M<span class="smcapa">Y</span> S<span class="smcapa">COUT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>After a smash (and Tennyson).</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, break, break!</div> - <div class="i1">Plate, decanter, and glass!</div> - <div class="i0">It's enough to worry a cherub,</div> - <div class="i1">And loosen the tongue of an ass.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It's all very well to declare</div> - <div class="i1">That your "helbow" caught in the door,</div> - <div class="i0">And your "fut" must 'ave 'itched in a nail,</div> - <div class="i1">And you're very sorry, you're sure.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And I'm very hard up just now,</div> - <div class="i1">Three troublesome duns to stop,</div> - <div class="i0">But I wish I'd only got half the coin</div> - <div class="i1">I've paid to that china-shop.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Break, break, break!</div> - <div class="i1">You must order another new set.</div> - <div class="i0">It's good for trade; but I'd like to know</div> - <div class="i1">What is the commission you get?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">From <em>Odd Echoes from Oxford</em>, 1872.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here is another in a similar vein:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="i0">Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">My cups and my saucers, O scout!</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm glad that my tongue can't utter</div> - <div class="i1">The oaths that my soul points out.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It's well for the china-shop man,</div> - <div class="i1">Who gets a fresh order each day;</div> - <div class="i0">And deucedly well for yourself,</div> - <div class="i1">Who are in the said china-man's pay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And my stately vases go</div> - <div class="i1">To your uncle's, I ween, to be cashed;</div> - <div class="i0">But it's O for the light of my broken lamp,</div> - <div class="i1">And the tick of my clock that is smashed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Break, break, break!</div> - <div class="i1">At the foot of thy stairs in glee;</div> - <div class="i0">But the coin I have spent in glass that is smashed</div> - <div class="i1">Will never come back to me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">From the "<em>Shotover Papers</em>," Oxford, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ATHER'S</span> D<span class="smcapa">IRGE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>By Tennyson Minor.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">On thy cold hard stones, O Sea!</div> - <div class="i0">And I hope that my tongue won't utter</div> - <div class="i1">The curses that rise in me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O well for the fisherman's boy,</div> - <div class="i1">If he likes to be soused with the spray!</div> - <div class="i0">O well for the sailor lad,</div> - <div class="i1">As he paddles about in the bay!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the ships swim happily on</div> - <div class="i1">To their haven under the hill:</div> - <div class="i0">But O for a clutch at that vanish'd hand,</div> - <div class="i1">And a kick—for I'm catching a chill!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">At my poor bare feet, O Sea!</div> - <div class="i0"><em>But the artful scamp who has collar'd my clothes</em></div> - <div class="i1"><em>Will never come back to me.</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">From <em>Funny Folks</em>, 1879.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The two following are taken from <em>Punch:</em>—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">USICAL</span> P<span class="smcapa">ITCH</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">O voice!—let me urge thy plea!—</div> - <div class="i0">O lower the Pitch, lest utter</div> - <div class="i1">Despair be the end of me!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis well for the fiddles to squeak,</div> - <div class="i1">The bassoon to grunt in its play:</div> - <div class="i0">'Twere well had I lungs of brass,</div> - <div class="i1">Or that nothing but strings gave way!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">O voice! I must urge thy plea,</div> - <div class="i0">For the tender skin of my larynx is torn,</div> - <div class="i1">And I fail in my upper G!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON AT</span> B<span class="smcapa">ILLINGSGATE IN</span> 1882.</h3> - -<p class="center">(Apropos of the <em>Ring</em> of Wholesale Fish Dealers.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">AKE</span>! Take! Take!</div> - <div class="i1">Oh grabber of swag from the sea,</div> - <div class="i0">And I shouldn't quite like to utter</div> - <div class="i1">The thoughts that occur to me!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, ill for the fisherman poor</div> - <div class="i1">That he toils for a trifle all day,</div> - <div class="i0">And ill for the much-diddled public</div> - <div class="i1">That has through the nose to pay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the swelling monopolist drives</div> - <div class="i1">To his villa at Haverstock Hill,</div> - <div class="i0">But it's O for the number of poor men's lives</div> - <div class="i1">Food-stinted to plump his till!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Take! Take! Take!</div> - <div class="i1">Oh grabber of swag from the sea,</div> - <div class="i0"><em>But you'll render a reckoning one of these days</em></div> - <div class="i1"><em>To the public and Mr. P.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In June, 1882, the Editor of <em>The Weekly -Dispatch</em> awarded a prize of Two Guineas to -M. Percivale, for a parody on <em>Locksley Hall</em>. -The somewhat uncomplimentary allusions to a -young Æsthetic poet are too obvious to require -any elucidation.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cousins, leave me here a little, in lawn tennis you excel;</div> - <div class="i0">Leave me here, you only bore me, I shall come at "luncheon bell!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis the place (but rather older)—I was in my eighteenth year,</div> - <div class="i0">When I first met utter Oscar, and I thought him such a dear!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How about the beach I wandered, listening while that youth sublime</div> - <div class="i0">Spouted verses by the dozen, which he said he wrote for <em>Time</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But his form was somewhat fatter than should be for one so young,</div> - <div class="i0">And his round eyes spoke the language of his glib and oily tongue.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the spring the fleshly poet writes a sweet and soothing sonnet:</div> - <div class="i0">In the spring a wise young woman buys a more becoming bonnet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And he said, "Oh, have you anything in Consols or Per Cents.?</div> - <div class="i0">For my property's in Ireland, and I cannot get the rents?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, my Oscar! Impecunious! Oh, intense!—if nothing worse—</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, those too-too precious poems! Oh, that too-too empty purse!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then I said, "I've an allowance from an old maternal aunt,</div> - <div class="i0">Just enough for dress; but as to victuals—no, I really can't!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And he turned, his face was frightful, pale with anger for poor me;</div> - <div class="i0">Was it fancy that he muttered something like a big, big D—?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As my husband is, his wife is, rich, the envy of the town;</div> - <div class="i0">How a life in shabby lodgings would have dragged my spirit down!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How my beauty would have faded, growing daily paler, thinner!</div> - <div class="i0">Making puddings, washing clothing, planning for the children's dinner.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Comes the butler, "Lunch is ready, madam!" iced champagne, I know,</div> - <div class="i0">Mayonnaise and lobster salad; I am hungry and—I go.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Here is another, and an earlier, imitation of -the same original:—</p> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">ACCHANALIAN</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAMINGS.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cronies leave me in the bar-room, while as yet I've cash to spend,</div> - <div class="i0">Leave me here, and if I'm wanted, 'mum's' the word to every friend,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> - <div class="i0">'Tis the place, I can assure you, if from funds you wish to part;</div> - <div class="i0">Yet for these you'll get a mixture, wisely stirred will warm the heart.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">This old house is situated in a street well-known as High;</div> - <div class="i0">Here the choicest spirits gather, when the moon is in the sky.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oft at night I've seen the taper seemingly to multiply</div> - <div class="i0">And assume these quaintish fashions so deceptive to the eye.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Till in fancy I've been lifted high above this earthly ball;</div> - <div class="i0">And the lights, like stars have twinkled, in the mirrors on the wall.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the happiness that followed, I've forgot life's cankering care,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet from these Elysian dreamings I've waked to misery and despair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In this mood I've heard, with pleasure common mortals cannot know,</div> - <div class="i0">Grand debates, and songs and speeches, which from sparkling genius flow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then I've built aerial castles towering up to heights sublime,</div> - <div class="i0">And I've questioned in my fancy, if such blissfulness were mine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For the nonce, a powerful statesman, I have ruled with iron sway,</div> - <div class="i0">Millions of my fellow-creatures, who, of course, were rougher clay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Changing, then, to mighty warrior, at the head of armies bold,</div> - <div class="i0">I've crushed all who dared oppose me, just for glory, not for gold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Or, again, as learned historian, I've noted down the deeds of yore,</div> - <div class="i0">Woven in a graceful fashion, mines of thought from ancient lore.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Burning passions, that consumed me, caused my throbbing heart to swell,</div> - <div class="i0">Or, when seized with poet's fancy, I've attempted oft to tell.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But the finest of our fancies very quickly disappear,</div> - <div class="i0">If from thoughtfulness we're wakened by the foolish jest or jeer.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">White-sleeved waiters can't appreciate thoughts superior to red wine,</div> - <div class="i0">And that Act, by one Mackenzie, foeman is to Muses Nine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In my rev'rie I was shaken, by a hand, and gruffly told</div> - <div class="i0">That the hour had just departed, when with safety wine was sold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">From <em>The Modern Athenian</em>, 18th March, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> N<span class="smcapa">EW</span> Œ<span class="smcapa">NONE</span>.—A<span class="smcapa">N</span> E<span class="smcapa">PIC</span> F<span class="smcapa">RAGMENT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>With Apologies to the Poet Laureate.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O B<span class="smcapa">RITISH</span> Public, many-fadded public,</div> - <div class="i0">Queer British Public, harken ere I die!</div> - <div class="i0">It was the bright forenoon: one silvery cloud</div> - <div class="i0">Had with soft sprinkle laid the gathered dust</div> - <div class="i0">Of Mayfair. To the studio they came.</div> - <div class="i0">Scant-robed they came before the camera.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And at their feet was laid a carpet fair,</div> - <div class="i0">Lemon, and cinnamon, and ghostly grey,</div> - <div class="i0">Purple, and primrose. And the artist rose</div> - <div class="i0">And overhead the swift spring-curtains drew</div> - <div class="i0">This way and that in many a subtle shift</div> - <div class="i0">For fine effect of light and shade, and placed</div> - <div class="i0">Background of statuary and drooping boughs,</div> - <div class="i0">With cloud and curtain, tower and portico.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O British Public harken ere I die!</div> - <div class="i0">I heard great Heré. She to Paris made</div> - <div class="i0">Proffer of popular power, public rule,</div> - <div class="i0">Unquestioned, an elastic revenue</div> - <div class="i0">Wherewith to buoy and back Imperial plans,</div> - <div class="i0">Honour (with Peace) she said, and tax and toll</div> - <div class="i0">From many a Place of Arms and haven large,</div> - <div class="i0">And Scientific Frontiers, and all else</div> - <div class="i0">That patriotic potency may crave;</div> - <div class="i0">To all most welcome, seeing men in power</div> - <div class="i0">Then only are like gods, having attained</div> - <div class="i0">Rest in "another place," and quiet seats</div> - <div class="i0">Above the tumult, safe from Dissolution,</div> - <div class="i0">In shelter of their great majority.</div> - <div class="i0">O British Public harken ere I die!</div> - <div class="i0">She ceased, and Paris held the golden fruit</div> - <div class="i0">Out at arm's length, so much the thought of power</div> - <div class="i0">Flattered his spirit; but Pallas where she stood</div> - <div class="i0">Somewhat apart, her straight and stately limbs</div> - <div class="i0">Uplifted, and her aspect high, if cold.</div> - <div class="i0">The while above her full and earnest eye</div> - <div class="i0">Over her firm set mouth and haughty cheek</div> - <div class="i0">Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Unselfishness, high honour, justice clear,</div> - <div class="i0">These three alone give worth to sovereign power.</div> - <div class="i0">Yet not for power (power of itself</div> - <div class="i0">Is a base burden) but to hold as law</div> - <div class="i0">The fiat high, 'Be just and do not fear.'</div> - <div class="i0">And because right <em>is</em> right to follow right,</div> - <div class="i0">With a serene contempt of consequence."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And Paris pondered, and I cried, "Oh! Paris,</div> - <div class="i0">Give it to Pallas!" But he heard me not,</div> - <div class="i0">Or hearing, would not heed me. Woe is me!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O British Public, many-headed Public,</div> - <div class="i0">Crass British Public, harken ere I die!</div> - <div class="i0">Audacious Aphrodite, beautiful</div> - <div class="i0">Fresh as the purple hyacinth's rain-washed bells,</div> - <div class="i0">With soft seductive fingers backward drew</div> - <div class="i0">From her bold brow and bosom her long hair</div> - <div class="i0">Auricomous, and bared her shining throat</div> - <div class="i0">And shoulder; on the carpet her small feet</div> - <div class="i0">Shone lily-like, and on her rounded form,</div> - <div class="i0">Between the shadows of the studio blinds,</div> - <div class="i0">Shifted the cunning "high lights" as she moved.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O British Public, harken ere I die!</div> - <div class="i0">She, with a subtle smile in her bold eyes,</div> - <div class="i0">The herald of her triumph, well assured,</div> - <div class="i0">Half whispered in his ear, "I promise thee</div> - <div class="i0"><em>The negative of my next photograph!</em>"</div> - <div class="i0">She spoke and laughed, I shut my eyes in fear,</div> - <div class="i0">And when I looked, Paris had not the apple.</div> - <div class="i0">And I beheld great Heré's angry eyes</div> - <div class="i0">As she withdrew from forth the studio door,</div> - <div class="i0">And I was left alone within the place!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">From <em>Punch</em>, December, 1879.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> - -<p>There still remain to be quoted a few amusing -parodies of Tennyson's early poems, the first in -order being <em>Mariana</em>, which was thus closely -burlesqued in George Cruikshank's <em>Comic -Almanack</em> for 1846.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">OW</span> S<span class="smcapa">TREET</span> G<span class="smcapa">RANGE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>By Alfred Tennyson.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With blackest mud, the locked-up sots</div> - <div class="i1">Were splashed and covered, one and all.</div> - <div class="i0">And rusty nails, and callous knots,</div> - <div class="i1">Stuck from the bench against the wall.</div> - <div class="i0">The wooden bed felt hard and strange;</div> - <div class="i1">Lost was the key that oped the latch;</div> - <div class="i1">To light his pipe he had no match,</div> - <div class="i0">Within the Bow Street station's range.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">He only said, "It's very dreary;"</div> - <div class="i3">"Bail will not come," he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He said, "I have been very beery,</div> - <div class="i3">I would I were a-bed!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The rain fell like a sluice that even;</div> - <div class="i1">His Clarence boots could not be dried,</div> - <div class="i0">But had been soaked since half-past seven—</div> - <div class="i1">To get them off in vain he tried.</div> - <div class="i0">After the smashing of his hat,</div> - <div class="i1">Just as the new police came by,</div> - <div class="i1">And took him into custody,</div> - <div class="i0">He thought, I've been a precious flat,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">He only said, "The cell is dreary;"</div> - <div class="i3">"Bail cometh not," he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He said, "I must be very beery,</div> - <div class="i3">I wish I were in bed!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Upon the middle of the night,</div> - <div class="i1">Waking, he heard a stunning row;</div> - <div class="i0">Some jolly cocks sang out till light,</div> - <div class="i1">And would not keep still anyhow.</div> - <div class="i0">He wished to bribe, but had no change</div> - <div class="i1">Within his pockets, all forlorn,</div> - <div class="i1">And so he kept awake till morn</div> - <div class="i0">Within that lonely Bow Street grange.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">He only said, "The cell is dreary;"</div> - <div class="i3">"Bail cometh not," he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He said, "I must be very beery,</div> - <div class="i3">I'd rather be in bed!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All night within that gloomy cell</div> - <div class="i1">The keys within the padlock creaked;</div> - <div class="i0">The tipsy 'gents' bawled out as well,</div> - <div class="i1">And in the dungeons yelled and shrieked.</div> - <div class="i0">Policemen slyly prowled about;</div> - <div class="i1">Their faces glimmered through the door,</div> - <div class="i1">But brought not, though he did implore,</div> - <div class="i0">One humble glass of cold without.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">He only said, "The night is dreary;"</div> - <div class="i3">"Bail cometh not," he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He said, "I have been very beery,</div> - <div class="i3">I would I were in bed!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At morn, the noise of boys aloof,</div> - <div class="i1">Inspectors' orders, and the chaff</div> - <div class="i0">Of cads upon the busses' roof,</div> - <div class="i1">To Poplar bound, too much by half</div> - <div class="i0">Did prove; but most he loathed the hour</div> - <div class="i1">When Mr. Jardine chose to say</div> - <div class="i1">Five shillings he would have to pay,</div> - <div class="i0">Now he was in policeman's power.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Then said he, "This is very dreary;"</div> - <div class="i3">"Bail will not come," he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He said, "I'll never more get beery,</div> - <div class="i3">But go straight home to bed!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In 1855, Messrs. G. Routledge & Co., published -a small volume, by Frank E. Smedley and -Edmund Hodgson Yates, entitled <em>Mirth and -Metre</em>, which contained several excellent parodies, -one entitled Boreäna, after the <em>The Ballad -of Oriana;</em> and another, called Vauxhall, which -imitated <em>Locksley Hall</em>. Most of the parodies in -the book were written by Mr. Edmund H. Yates, -but he gave the credit of Boreäna to Mr. Frank -Smedley, the author of several well-known -novels, who died in May, 1864.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ALLAD OF</span> B<span class="smcapa">OREÄNA</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">My brain is wearied with thy prate,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">I sit and curse my hapless fate,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">What time the rain pours down the gutter,</div> - <div class="i0">Still your platitudes you utter</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">I unholy wishes mutter,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ere the night-light's flame was fading,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">While the cats were serenading,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">Sheep were bleating, oxen lowing,</div> - <div class="i0">We heard the beasts to Smithfield going,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">You said the butcher's bill was owing,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At Cremorne, we two alone,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">Ere my wisdom teeth were grown,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">While the dancers gaily hopped,</div> - <div class="i0">And the brass-band never stopped,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">I to thee the question popped,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> - <div class="i0">She stood behind the area gate,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">She did it just to aggravate,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">She saw me wink, she heard me swear,</div> - <div class="i0">She recognised the scoundrel there,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">She <em>knows</em> a bailiff I can't bear,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The cursed writ he pushed it through,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">The area rails, and gave it you,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">The infernal summons me unnerved,</div> - <div class="i0">He from his duty never swerved,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">On thee, my bride, the writ he served,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! narrow-minded county court,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis death to me, to them 'tis sport,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! stab in my most tender place,</div> - <div class="i0">My pocket, oh! the deep disgrace,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">I fell down flat upon my face,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They fined me at the next court day,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">Locked up, how can I get away,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna?</div> - <div class="i0">I don't perceive of hope a ray,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis a true bill, but oh! I say,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">How without tin am I to pay,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When turns the never-pausing mill,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">I tread, I do not dare stand still,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna:</div> - <div class="i0">At home, of beer thou drink'st thy fill,</div> - <div class="i0">I may not come to thee and swill,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna,</div> - <div class="i0">I hear the rolling of the mill,</div> - <div class="i9">Boreäna.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON'S</span> <em>The Palace of Art</em>, commences -thus:—</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">BUILT</span> my soul a lordly pleasure-house,</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein at ease for aye to dwell,</div> - <div class="i0">I said, "O soul, make merry and carouse,</div> - <div class="i1">Dear soul, for all is well."</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">And "while the world runs round and round," I said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Reign thou apart, a quiet king,</div> - <div class="i0">Still as while Saturn whirls, his steadfast shade</div> - <div class="i1">Sleeps on his luminous ring."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The following skit ridiculing the furniture and -decorations of an artistically-arranged modern -house, is taken from <em>Punch</em> of the 15th February, -1879.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ALACE OF</span> A<span class="smcapa">RT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">BUILT</span> myself a high-art pleasure-house</div> - <div class="i1">For my sick soul at peace therein to dwell.</div> - <div class="i0">I said, "I have the true æsthetic <em>nous</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">And can design it well."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Twas dull red brick, with gables set galore,</div> - <div class="i1">And little light did through the windows pass,</div> - <div class="i0">For 'twas shut out by thick lead frames that bore</div> - <div class="i1">Quarrels of grey-green glass,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The dadoed walls, in green were stained, no tint</div> - <div class="i1">Which common blue and yellow mingled make;</div> - <div class="i0">But a green y-wrought—of sepia without stint—</div> - <div class="i1">With indigo and lake.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nor grainèd panel nor enamelled slate</div> - <div class="i1">Was there to jar on my artistic sight;</div> - <div class="i0">Plain ebon wood-work framed the open grate,</div> - <div class="i1">And over,—blue and white.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Two lovely griffins, made of burnished brass,</div> - <div class="i1">I found, to guard the fireplace on each side.</div> - <div class="i0">With curling tails (though one was lost, alas!),</div> - <div class="i1">And mouths that gapèd wide.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All round the rooms were shelves of black-dyed deal,</div> - <div class="i1">On which stood pots and plates of every hue;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst far apart two lilièd angels kneel</div> - <div class="i1">In Robbia white and blue.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">One deep recess, serge-covered, like a lawn,</div> - <div class="i1">Held, on a brass-nailed shelf, its seat of state,</div> - <div class="i0">Apart from other pots and pans withdrawn,</div> - <div class="i1">An ancient kitchen-plate.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Hence whilst the world runs round and round," I said,</div> - <div class="i1">"I will send forth my wits to gather wool;</div> - <div class="i0">With task or toil I will not vex my head;</div> - <div class="i1">But on that plate feed full."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So day and night upon that plate I gazed,</div> - <div class="i1">And strove to fix thereon what thought I had;</div> - <div class="i0">Until my sight grew dim, and my sense dazed,</div> - <div class="i1">And my digestion bad.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">My brain shrank like a nut adust and dried;</div> - <div class="i1">I felt that I was not at all myself,</div> - <div class="i0">And longed to lay my dwindled wits beside</div> - <div class="i1">That plate upon that shelf.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">That ancient plate of willow-pattern blue,</div> - <div class="i1">Which so absorbèd had my every thought,</div> - <div class="i0">I seemed to live thereon, and slowly grew</div> - <div class="i1">Confucian, clear of thought.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">One year I gazed upon that much-loved plate,</div> - <div class="i1">Till at the last the sight began to pall.</div> - <div class="i0">I said, "How know I 'tis of ancient date,</div> - <div class="i1">Or China-ware at all?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So when one year was wholly finishèd,</div> - <div class="i1">I put that willow-pattern plate away.</div> - <div class="i0">"Now rather bring me Satsuma!" I said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Or blue-green Cloisonnée.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"For I am sick of this pervading hue,</div> - <div class="i1">Steepèd wherein this landscape, stream, and sky,</div> - <div class="i0">To my heart-weary question, 'Is all blue?'</div> - <div class="i1">'Yea, all is blue,' reply.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Yet do not smash the plate I so admired,</div> - <div class="i1">When first my high æsthetic house I built;</div> - <div class="i0">I may come back to it, of Dresden tired,</div> - <div class="i1">And Sèvres gaily gilt."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Although taken from Cruikshank's <em>Comic -Almanack</em>, for 1846, the following parody of -<em>The May Queen</em> is so fresh and so funny that it -might have been written yesterday:—</p> - - - -<h3><a name="THE_QUEEN_OF_THE_FETE" id="THE_QUEEN_OF_THE_FETE"></a>THE QUEEN OF THE FÊTE.</h3> - -<p class="p6"><em>By Alfred Tennyson.</em></p> - - -<p class="p6">I.—T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">AY</span> B<span class="smcapa">EFORE</span>.</p> - -<p class="center">[<em>To be read with liveliness.</em>]</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If you're waking, call me early, mother, fine, or wet, or bleak;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow is the happiest day of all the Ascot week;</div> - <div class="i0">It is the Chiswick fête, mother, of flowers and people gay,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'll be queen, if I may, mother, I'll be queen, if I may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a bright <em>barege</em>, they say, but none so bright as mine,</div> - <div class="i0">And whiter gloves, that have been cleaned, and smell of turpentine;</div> - <div class="i0">But none so nice as mine, I know, and so they all will say;</div> - <div class="i0">And I'll be queen, if I may, mother, I'll be queen, if I may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,</div> - <div class="i0">If you do not shout at my bedside, and give me a good shake;</div> - <div class="i0">For I have got those gloves to trim with blonde and ribbons gay.</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be queen, if I may, mother; I'm to be queen, if I may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came home to-day, mother, whom think you I should meet,</div> - <div class="i0">But Harry—looking at a cab, upset in Oxford Street;</div> - <div class="i0">He thought of when we met, to learn the Polka of Miss Rae—</div> - <div class="i0">But I'll be queen, if I may, mother; I'll be queen, if I may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They say he wears moustachios, that my chosen he may be;</div> - <div class="i0">They say he's left off raking, mother—what is that to me?</div> - <div class="i0">I shall meet all the Fusiliers upon the Chiswick day;</div> - <div class="i0">And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen if I may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The night cabs come and go, mother, with panes of mended glass,</div> - <div class="i0">And all the things about us seem to clatter as they pass;</div> - <div class="i0">The roads are dry and dusty; it will be a fine, fine day,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be queen, if I may, mother; I'm to be queen, if I may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The weather-glass hung in the hall has turned to "fair" from "showers."</div> - <div class="i0">The sea-weed crackles and feels dry, that's hanging 'midst the flowers,</div> - <div class="i0">Vauxhall, too, is not open, so 'twill be a fine, fine day;</div> - <div class="i0">And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen, if I may.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So call me, if you're waking; call me, mother, from my rest—</div> - <div class="i0">The "Middle Horticultural" is sure to be the best.</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the three this one will be the brightest, happiest day;</div> - <div class="i0">And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen, if I may.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p6">II.—T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">AY</span> A<span class="smcapa">FTER</span>.</p> - -<p class="center">[<em>Slow, and with sad expression.</em>]</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If you're waking, call me early; call me early, mother dear;</div> - <div class="i0">The soaking rain of yesterday has spoilt my dress I fear;</div> - <div class="i0">I've caught a shocking cold, mamma, so make a cup for me,</div> - <div class="i0">Of what sly folks call, blackthorn, and facetious grocers, tea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I started forth in floss and flowers to have a pleasant day,</div> - <div class="i0">When all at once down came the wet, and hurried all away;</div> - <div class="i0">And now there's not a flower but is washed out by the rain:</div> - <div class="i0">I wonder if the colours, mother, will come round again.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I have been wild and wayward, but I am not wayward now,</div> - <div class="i0">I think of my allowance, and I'm sure I don't know how</div> - <div class="i0">I shall make both ends meet. Papa will be so very wild;</div> - <div class="i0">He says, already mother, I'm his most expensive child.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Just say to Harry a kind word, and tell him not to fret;</div> - <div class="i0">Perhaps I was cross, but then he knows it was so very wet;</div> - <div class="i0">Had it been fine—I cannot tell—he might have had my arm;</div> - <div class="i0">But the bad weather ruined all, and spoilt my toilet's charm.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'll wear the dress again, mother; I do not care a pin,—</div> - <div class="i0">Or, perhaps, 'twill do for Effie, but it must be taken in;</div> - <div class="i0">But do not let her see it yet—she's not so very green,</div> - <div class="i0">And will not take it until washed and ironed it has been.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So, if you're waking, call me, when the day begins to dawn;</div> - <div class="i0">I dread to look at my <em>barege</em>—it must be so forlorn;</div> - <div class="i0">We'll put it in the rough-dried box: it may come out next year;</div> - <div class="i0">So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Light Green</em>, a magazine published at Cambridge, -in 1872, contained another parody of the -same original, it is called "The May Dream," -by Alfred Pennysong.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> - -<p>The following appeared in <em>The Tomahawk</em>, of -December 5th, 1868.</p> - - -<h3>E<span class="smcapa">LECTIONS</span>' E<span class="smcapa">VE</span>!</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Song of the Future(?).</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake and call me early, call me early mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">Though November is the dullest month of any in the year,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet to-morrow I shall represent my country—oh! how droll!</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm the Queen of the Poll, mother! I'm the Queen of the Poll!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There'll be many a black, black eye, mother (I hope one won't be mine),</div> - <div class="i0">But ten thousand voting virgins will be flocking to my sign,</div> - <div class="i0">Supported by my Coleridge—Mill, 'neath Becker's steadfast soul,</div> - <div class="i0">Shall I be the Queen of the Poll, mother! I, be the Queen of the Poll!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Benches soon shall welcome me, the Lobby be my haunt,</div> - <div class="i0">That spinster Speaker by her winks and frowns shall ne'er me daunt.</div> - <div class="i0">My rights are good as any, and my name is on the roll,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm the Queen of the Poll, mother! I'm the Queen of the Poll.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I have been wild and wayward, but those days are past and gone,</div> - <div class="i0">The Valse is fled, the Kettledrum, the Croquet on the Lawn;</div> - <div class="i0">Another <em>Lawn</em>, clear-starched and white, rises before my eye,</div> - <div class="i0">The Speaker's risen to <em>orders</em>, why the Dickens shouldn't I?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Pardon my slang, for auld <em>slang</em> syne, I'm still a woman true,</div> - <div class="i0">And women's tongues were never made to say what they might rue;</div> - <div class="i0">But there's one thing on my mind, mother, to ask you I'd forgot,</div> - <div class="i0">Shall I repair to Parliament in petticoats or——not?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Now, good night, good night, dear mother, ah! to-morrow'll be the day</div> - <div class="i0">When women's rights are settled, then won't we have our say;</div> - <div class="i0">And then 'midst England's patriots, my name shall I enrol,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm the Queen of the Poll, mother! I'm the Queen of the Poll!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> F<span class="smcapa">AIR</span> W<span class="smcapa">OMEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(From <em>The World</em>, July 23rd, 1879).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Long time I fed my eyes on that strange scene,</div> - <div class="i1">Painted by Poynter, of the famous bay,</div> - <div class="i0">Wherein Phæacian maids surround their queen</div> - <div class="i1">Nausicaa in play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And clearer on my trancèd gaze there grew</div> - <div class="i1">The celebrated beauties of the town;</div> - <div class="i0">Leaping in front, I saw with wonder new</div> - <div class="i1">The sexless thing in brown.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Meseemed that, as I gazed, my vision changed:</div> - <div class="i1">The loose-girt ladies on the pictured wall</div> - <div class="i0">I saw no more; but, fancy led, I ranged</div> - <div class="i1">The fair in Albert Hall.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The hothouse blossoms of a sunless year,</div> - <div class="i1">And quaintest crewels, wrought in grays and greens,</div> - <div class="i0">Adorned the stalls—extravagantly dear,</div> - <div class="i1">For they were sold by queens.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Foremost I saw, with overloaded stall</div> - <div class="i1">Beset from morn till eve with densest crowd,</div> - <div class="i0">A daughter of the Jews, divinely small,</div> - <div class="i1">And most divinely proud.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With high-pitched tones in broken English she</div> - <div class="i1">Waved bystanders aside, and sold her wares</div> - <div class="i0">Only to scions of nobility,</div> - <div class="i1">With all her choicest airs.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And passing on, not caring to pay dear</div> - <div class="i1">For portraits which in all shop-windows are,</div> - <div class="i0">I saw our novel Helen standing near,</div> - <div class="i1">Far-gleaming like a star.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Softly she spake: 'I would that from my stall</div> - <div class="i1">Some favour you would buy, that I may gain</div> - <div class="i0">Tenfold in praise, and beat my rivals all</div> - <div class="i1">In making fools of men.'</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Outleapt my answer: 'Try me with thy wile:</div> - <div class="i1">A crown for that sweet rose!' With polished ease</div> - <div class="i0">She shook from haughty eyes a languid smile:</div> - <div class="i1">'Not so; a guinea, please.'</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lighter my purse, as onward, pacing slow,</div> - <div class="i1">I turned from right to left in idle quest,</div> - <div class="i0">Till on me flashed, fair as the sunset glow,</div> - <div class="i1">Mrs. Cornwallis West.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Strangely my eyes their wonted functions changed;</div> - <div class="i1">I saw her once again, white-veiled, white-furred,</div> - <div class="i0">As oft by deft photographers arranged,</div> - <div class="i1">A photographic bird</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Prest to her lips 'mid counterfeited snow.</div> - <div class="i1">Full soon the fancy ceased. I heard a cry</div> - <div class="i0">Peal from the lips that men have worshipped so:</div> - <div class="i1">'Pass quickly on, or buy!'</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A labyrinth of beauty, sweet to see!</div> - <div class="i1">The proud Guinness, the noted Wheeler—all</div> - <div class="i0">Our much-belauded London galaxy,</div> - <div class="i1">Protecting each a stall.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sweet forms, fair faces, everywhere the same;</div> - <div class="i1">And many a withered flower and trinket old</div> - <div class="i0">I purchased recklessly, till joy became</div> - <div class="i1">A solemn scorn of gold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The slow day faded in the evening sky</div> - <div class="i1">Ere all my petty cash was squandered free.</div> - <div class="i0">One joy remained. I bade my hansom fly</div> - <div class="i1">To visit Connie G.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">TERRÆ FILIUS.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<p>Those who have read <em>Locksley Hall</em> will greatly -appreciate <em>The Lay of the Lovelorn</em>, a parody -contained in the Bon Gaultier Ballads of Theodore -Martin and Professor Aytoun.</p> - -<p>Tennyson's original poem commences thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Comrades leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn;</div> - <div class="i0">Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle horn.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old the curlews' call,</div> - <div class="i0">Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime</div> - <div class="i0">With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time.</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands;</div> - <div class="i0">Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might;</div> - <div class="i0">Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships,</div> - <div class="i0">And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O my cousin, shallow hearted! O my Amy, mine no more,</div> - <div class="i0">O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the barren, barren shore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs have sung,</div> - <div class="i0">Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a shrewish tongue!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Is it well to wish thee happy? having known me—to decline</div> - <div class="i0">On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart than mine!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet it shall be: thou shall lower to his level day by day,</div> - <div class="i0">What is fine within thee growing coarse to sympathise with clay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown,</div> - <div class="i0">And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force,</div> - <div class="i0">Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.</div> - <div class="i4">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth!</div> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest nature's rule.</div> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the gold that gilds the straightened forehead of the fool.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AY OF THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">OVE</span>L<span class="smcapa">ORN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Comrades, you may pass the rosy. With permission of the chair</div> - <div class="i0">I shall leave you for a little, for I'd like to take the air.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Whether 'twas the sauce at dinner, or that glass of ginger beer,</div> - <div class="i0">Or these strong cheroots, I know not, but I feel a little queer.</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">In my ears I hear the singing of a lot of favourite tunes—</div> - <div class="i0">Bless my heart, how very odd! Why, surely there's a brace of moons!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">See! the stars! how bright they twinkle, winking with a frosty glare;</div> - <div class="i0">Like my faithless cousin Amy when she drove me to despair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, my cousin, spider hearted! Oh, my Amy! No, confound it!</div> - <div class="i0">I must wear the mournful willow,—all around my hat I've bound it.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Falser than the Bank of Fancy, frailer than a shilling glove,</div> - <div class="i0">Puppet to a father's anger, minion to a nabob's love!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Is it well to wish thee happy? Having known me, could you ever?</div> - <div class="i0">Stoop to marry half a heart, and little more than half a liver?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Happy! Damme! Thou shalt lower to his level day by day,</div> - <div class="i0">Changing from the best of china to the commonest of clay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As the husband is, the wife is,—he is stomach-plagued and old;</div> - <div class="i0">And his curry soups will make thy cheek the colour of his gold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When his feeble love is sated, he will hold thee surely then</div> - <div class="i0">Something lower than his hookah,—something less than his cayenne.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What is this? His eyes are pinky. Was't the claret? Oh, no, no,—</div> - <div class="i0">Bless your soul! it was the salmon,—salmon always makes him so.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Take him to thy dainty chamber—soothe him with thy lightest fancies;</div> - <div class="i0">He will understand thee, won't he?—pay thee with a lover's glances?</div> - <div class="i4">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">Better thou wert dead before me—better, better, that I stood,</div> - <div class="i0">Looking on thy murdered body, like the injured Daniel Good!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Better thou and I were lying, cold and timber-stiff and dead,</div> - <div class="i0">With a pan of burning charcoal underneath our nuptial bed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the Bank of England's notes, that tempt the soul to sin!</div> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the want of acres,—doubly cursed the want of tin!</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the marriage contract, that enslaved thy soul to greed!</div> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the sallow lawyer, that prepared and drew the deed!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cursed be his foul apprentice, who the loathsome fees did earn!</div> - <div class="i0">Cursed be the clerk and parson,—cursed be the whole concern!</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">Oh, 'tis well that I should bluster,—much I'm like to make of that;</div> - <div class="i0">Better comfort have I found in singing "All around my Hat."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But that song so wildly plaintive, palls upon my British ears.</div> - <div class="i0">'Twill not do to pine for ever,—I am getting up in years.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Can't I turn the honest penny, scribbling for the weekly press,</div> - <div class="i0">And in writing Sunday libels drown my private wretchedness?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, to feel the wild pulsation that in manhood's dawn I knew</div> - <div class="i0">When my days were all before me, and my years were twenty-two!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When I smoked my independent pipe along the Quadrant wide</div> - <div class="i0">With the many larks of London flaring up on every side;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When I went the pace so wildly, caring little what might come;</div> - <div class="i0">Coffee-milling care and sorrow, with a nose-adapted thumb;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Felt the exquisite enjoyment, tossing nightly off, oh heavens!</div> - <div class="i0">Brandy at the Cider Cellars, kidneys smoking hot at Evans'!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Or in the Adelphi sitting, half in rapture, half in tears,</div> - <div class="i0">Saw the glorious melodrama conjure up the shades of years,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Saw Jack Sheppard, noble strippling, act his wondrous feats again,</div> - <div class="i0">Snapping Newgate's bars of iron, like an infant's daisy chain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Might was right, and all the terrors, which had held the world in awe,</div> - <div class="i0">Were despised, and prigging prospered, spite of Laurie, spite of law.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In such scenes as these I triumphed, ere my passion's edge was rusted,</div> - <div class="i0">And my cousin's cold refusal left me very much disgusted!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Hark! my merry comrade's call me, bawling for another jorum;</div> - <div class="i0">They would mock me in derision, should I thus appear before 'em.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Womankind no more shall vex me, such at least as go arrayed</div> - <div class="i0">In the most expensive satins and the newest silk brocade.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'll to Afric, lion-haunted, where the giant forest yields</div> - <div class="i0">Rarer robes and finer tissues than are sold at Spitalfields.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Or to burst all chains of habit, flinging habit's self aside,</div> - <div class="i0">I shall walk the tangled jungle in mankind's primeval pride;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Feeding on the luscious berries and the rich cassava root,</div> - <div class="i0">Lots of dates and lots of guavas, clusters of forbidden fruit.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Never comes the trader thither, never o'er the purple main</div> - <div class="i0">Sounds the oath of British commerce, or the accents of Cockaigne.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There, methinks, would be enjoyment, where no envious rule prevents;</div> - <div class="i0">Sink the steamboats! cuss the railways! rot, O rot the Three per Cents!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There the passions, cramped no longer, shall have space to breathe, my cousin!</div> - <div class="i0">I will wed some savage woman—nay, I'll wed at least a dozen.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There I'll rear my young mulattoes, as no Bond Street brats are reared:</div> - <div class="i0">They shall dive for alligators, catch the wild goats by the beard—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Whistle to the cockatoos, and mock the hairy-faced baboon,</div> - <div class="i0">Worship mighty Mumbo Jumbo in the mountains of the moon.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I myself, in far Timbuctoo, leopard's blood will daily quaff,</div> - <div class="i0">Ride a tiger hunting, mounted on a thorough-bred giraffe.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Fiercely shall I shout the war-whoop, as some sullen stream he crosses,</div> - <div class="i0">Startling from their noonday slumbers, iron-bound rhinoceroses.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Fool! again the dream, the fancy! But I know my words are mad,</div> - <div class="i0">For I hold the grey barbarian lower than the Christian cad.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I the swell—the city dandy! I to seek such horrid places,—</div> - <div class="i0">I to haunt with squalid negroes, blubber lips, and monkey-faces!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I to wed with Coromantees! I who managed—very near—</div> - <div class="i0">To secure the heart and fortune of the widow Shillibeer!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Stuff and nonsense! let me never fling a single chance away,</div> - <div class="i0">Maids ere now, I know, have loved me, and another maiden may.</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">That's the sort of thing to do it. Now I'll go and taste the balmy,—</div> - <div class="i0">Rest thee with thy yellow nabob, spider-hearted cousin Amy!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">BON GAULTIER BALLADS.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>V<span class="smcapa">AUXHALL.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cabman, stop thy jaded knacker; cabman, draw thy slackened rein;</div> - <div class="i0">Take this sixpence—do not grumble, swear not at Sir Richard Mayne!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old the cadger's bawl—</div> - <div class="i0">Sparkling rockets, squibs and crackers, whizzing over gay Vauxhall.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Gay Vauxhall! that in the summer all the youth of town attracts,</div> - <div class="i0">Glittering with its lamps and fireworks, and its flashing cataracts.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many a night in yonder gilded temple, ere I went to rest,</div> - <div class="i0">Did I look on great Von Joel, mimicking the feathered nest;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many a night I saw Hernandez in a tinsel garb arrayed,</div> - <div class="i0">With his odorif'rous ringlets tangled in a silver braid;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Here about the paths I wandered, chaffing, laughing all the time,</div> - <div class="i0">Laughing at the piebald clown, or listening to the minstrel's rhyme;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When beneath the business-counter linendraper's men reposed,</div> - <div class="i0">When in calm and peaceful slumber, sharp maternal eyes are closed;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When I dipt into the pewter pot that held the foaming stout,</div> - <div class="i0">When I quaffed the burning punch, or wildly sipped the "cold without."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the spring a finer cambric's wrapped around the lordling's breast;</div> - <div class="i0">In the spring the gent at Redmayne's gets himself a Moses' "vest;"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the spring we make investment in a white or lilac glove;</div> - <div class="i0">In the spring my youthful fancy prompted me to fall in love.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then she danced through all the <em>ballet</em>, as a fairy blithe and young,</div> - <div class="i0">Stood a tiptoe on a flow'ret, or from clouds of pasteboard swung—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And I said, "Miss Julia Belmont, speak, and speak the truth to me,</div> - <div class="i0">Wilt thou from this fairy region with a heart congenial flee?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">On her lovely cheek and forehead came a blushing through her paint,</div> - <div class="i0">And she sank upon my bosom in the semblance of a faint;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then she turned, her voice was broken (so, if I must tell the truth,</div> - <div class="i0">Was her English—all I pardoned in the generous warmth of youth),</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Saying, "Pray excuse my feelings, nothing wrong, indeed, is meant,"</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, "Will you be my loveyer?" weeping, "you are quite the gent."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Love took up the glass before me, filled it foaming to the brim,</div> - <div class="i0">Love changed every comic ballad to a sweet euphonious hymn!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many a morning in the railway did we run to Richmond, Kew,</div> - <div class="i0">And her hunger cleared my pockets oft of shillings not a few!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many an evening down at Greenwich did we eat the pleasant "bait,"</div> - <div class="i0">Till I found my earnings going at a rather rapid rate.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! Miss Belmont, fickle-hearted! Oh, Miss Belmont known too late,</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, that horrid, horrid Richmond, oh, the cursed, cursed "bait."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Falser far than Lola Montes, falser e'en than Alice Gray,</div> - <div class="i0">Scorner of a faithful press-man, sharer of a tumbler's pay!—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Is it well to wish thee happy? having once loved <em>me</em>—to wed</div> - <div class="i0">With a fool who gains his living by his heels, and not his head!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown,</div> - <div class="i0">And pursuing his profession, he will strive to drag thee down.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He will hold thee in the winter, when his fooleries begin,</div> - <div class="i0">Something better than his wig, a little dearer than his gin.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What is this? his legs are bending! think'st thou he is weary, faint?</div> - <div class="i0">Go to him, it is thy duty; kiss him, how he tastes of paint!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Am I mad, that I should cherish memories of the bygone time?</div> - <div class="i0">Think of loving one whose husband fools it in a pantomime!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Never, though my mortal summers should be lengthened to the sum</div> - <div class="i0">Granted to the aged Parr, or more illustrious Widdicomb—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Comfort!—talk to me of comfort! What is comfort here below?</div> - <div class="i0">Lies it in iced drinks in summer, aquascutum coats in snow?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Think not thou wilt know its meaning, wail of all his vows the proof,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the manager is sulky, and the rain pours through the roof.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">See, his life he acts in dreams, while thou art staring in his face,</div> - <div class="i0">Listen to his hollow laughter, mark his effort at grimace!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thou shalt hear "Hot Codlins" muttered in his vision-haunted sleep,</div> - <div class="i0">Thou shalt hear his feigned ecstatics, thou shalt hear his curses deep.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let them fall on gay Vauxhall, that scene to me of deepest woe,</div> - <div class="i0">But—the waiters are departing, and perhaps I'd better go!—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">By E<span class="smcapa">DMUND</span> H. Y<span class="smcapa">ATES</span>,</div> - <div class="i12">From <em>Mirth and Metre</em>, 1855.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Extract from <em>Sir Rupert the Red</em>, in imitation -of Tennyson's <em>Locksley Hall</em>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Very early in the morning would he, tumbling out of bed,</div> - <div class="i0">Mow his chin with wretched razor, mow and hack it till it bled;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then he'd curse the harmless cutler, heap upon him curses deep,</div> - <div class="i0">Curse him in his hour of waking, doubly curse him in his sleep—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Saying, "Mechi! O my Mechi! O my Mechi, mine no more,</div> - <div class="i0">Whither's fled that brilliant sharpness which thy razors had of yore,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ere thou quittedst Leadenhall Street, quittedst it with many a qualm—</div> - <div class="i0">Ere thou soughtest rustic Tiptree, Tiptree and its model farm?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many a morning, by the mirror, did I pass thee o'er my beard,</div> - <div class="i0">And my chin grew smooth beneath thee, of its hairy harvest cleared;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many an evening have I drawn thee 'cross the throats of wretched Jews,</div> - <div class="i0">When they, trembling, showed their purses, stuffed for safety in their shoes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But, like mine, thy day is over—thou art blunt and I'm disgraced!</div> - <div class="i0">Curses on thy maker's projects, curses on his 'magic paste.'"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">From <em>Mirth and Metre</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following imitation of "Break, Break, -Break," is from <em>Snatches of Song</em>, by F. B. Doveton, -1880, which volume also contains (page 127) a -long, but not very amusing, parody of <em>The -Grandmother</em>, entitled <em>Hard Times</em>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">In thy pantry, costly maid!</div> - <div class="i0">And I bitterly rue the hour</div> - <div class="i1">When I took you from Mrs. Slade.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis well for the lady fair</div> - <div class="i1">Whose glass is unshattered yet!</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis well for the thrifty dame</div> - <div class="i1">Who has "an unbroken set!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the clatter and crash goes on,</div> - <div class="i1">And Mary picks up the slain;</div> - <div class="i0">But oh! for that teacup of rarest Sèvres,</div> - <div class="i1">And that vase of porcelain!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">In thy pantry, Mary G——!</div> - <div class="i0">But that costly vase and that teacup rare</div> - <div class="i1">Will never come back to me!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here is another in a similar vein, from <em>Punch's -Almanack</em> for 1884:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">O slavey, my crock-e-ry!</div> - <div class="i0">And I would that my tongue dared utter</div> - <div class="i1">The wrath that's astir in me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O well for the labourer's wife,</div> - <div class="i1">Who can wash her own tea-things each day!</div> - <div class="i0">O well for the labourer's self,</div> - <div class="i1">Who has no servant's wages to pay!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But the breakages here go on,</div> - <div class="i1">And I have to settle the bill;</div> - <div class="i0">And it's oh! for the shards of my vanished cups,</div> - <div class="i1">And my saucers dwindling still!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Break! break! break!</div> - <div class="i1">A week from this you shall see,</div> - <div class="i0">But the dishes and plates you have smashed since you came,</div> - <div class="i1">Will never come back to me!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>O<span class="smcapa">UR</span> M<span class="smcapa">ISCELLANY</span> (<em>which ought to have come out, -but didn't</em>), edited by Edmund H. Yates and -R. B. Brough, published by G. Routledge & Co., -in 1857, contains a number of parodies, amongst -them of Lord Macaulay, E. A. Poe, Longfellow, -and Charles Dickens.</p> - -<p>Of Tennyson there are two imitations of -<em>Maud;</em> one, nine verses in length, of <em>In <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Memmoriam'">Memoriam</ins></em>, -and one entitled <em>A Character</em>, which is -a rather close parody of a poem having the same -title, published in Tennyson's 1830 volume.</p> - -<p>It will be remembered that at the time <em>Our -Miscellany</em> appeared, M. Jullien's Promenade -Concerts were in the full tide of their prosperity, -and that the little fopperies and vanities of the -clever <em>Chef d'orchestre</em>, and his importation of -French military bands were then the talk of the -town.</p> - - -<h3>A C<span class="smcapa">HARACTER.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Jullien.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With half a glance upon the house,</div> - <div class="i0">Each night he said "The gatherings</div> - <div class="i0">Of people underneath this roof</div> - <div class="i0">Teach me the paying sort of things,</div> - <div class="i0">And music, whence they'd stand aloof,</div> - <div class="i0">May in the ocean depths go souse."</div> - <div class="i3">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> - <div class="i0">He led a polka—round his skull</div> - <div class="i0">He waved the rhythm of the charm,</div> - <div class="i0">And stamped, and shook his dress-coat skirts,</div> - <div class="i0">With giant wavings of his arm;</div> - <div class="i0">And then—he went and changed his shirt!</div> - <div class="i0">And said the house was very full.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And so he drove a thriving trade,</div> - <div class="i0">With symphonies in classic way;</div> - <div class="i0">With Drummers and with Zouaves' call</div> - <div class="i0">Himself upon himself did play,</div> - <div class="i0">Each season ending with a ball</div> - <div class="i0">Of masques, his fortune thus he made.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The <em>In Memoriam</em> verses are scarcely so good, -I will, therefore, only quote the first and the -last:—</p> - - -<h3>R<span class="smcapa">ICHMOND</span>, 1856.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I H<span class="smcapa">OLD</span> it truth, when I recall</div> - <div class="i1">Last London's season's joyous spell,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis better to have danced not well,</div> - <div class="i1">Than never to have danced at all.</div> - <div class="i3">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">The season's past; alone at Basle</div> - <div class="i1">I sit; but still, as truth I tell,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis better to have danced not well,</div> - <div class="i1">Than never to have danced at all.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The two imitations of <em>Maud</em>, at pages 80 and -179, are too long, and scarcely sufficiently interesting, -to quote at length.</p> - -<p><em>The Shilling Book of Beauty</em>, by Cuthbert Bede -(J. Blackwood, 1853), has also a parody of <em>Maud</em>, -in ten verses, it is entitled:—</p> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">AUD IN THE</span> G<span class="smcapa">ARDEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>By Alfred Tennison, Esq.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She is coming, my own, my sweet;</div> - <div class="i1">She is coming, my life, my fate;</div> - <div class="i0">I hear the beat of her fairy feet,</div> - <div class="i1">As she trips to the garden gate;</div> - <div class="i0">As she comes to the garden gate,</div> - <div class="i1">In her glimmer of satin and pearl,</div> - <div class="i0">With her sunny head in a terrible state</div> - <div class="i1">And her ringlets out of curl.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In 1856 a little sixpenny pamphlet was published -by J. Booth, of Regent Street, entitled -<em>Anti-Maud</em>, by a Poet of the People. Tennyson -had been accused of fanning the warlike spirit -then rampant in the land, and his <em>Maud</em> contained—in -exquisite poetry—many of the stock arguments -in favour of war and glory. The "Poet -of the People," in his <em>Anti-Maud</em>, adopted the -other, and less popular view. Read in the light -of subsequent events, this scarce little pamphlet -seems more correct in its deductions, than the -Laureate's war cry in <em>Maud</em>. The author asserts -that <em>Anti-Maud</em> is not merely a <em>jeu d'esprit</em>, but -something of a more earnest character, and he -disclaims any intention of depreciating the -Laureate's poetry. I can quote a few only of -the best of the fifty odd stanzas it contains:</p> - - -<h3>A<span class="smcapa">NTI</span>-M<span class="smcapa">AUD</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I hate the murky pool at the back of the stable yard,</div> - <div class="i0">For dear though it be to the ducks and geese, it has an unpleasant smell;</div> - <div class="i0">If you gaze therein at your own sweet face, the reflection is broken and marred,</div> -<span class="linenum">1</span> - <div class="i0">And echo, there, if you ask how she is, replies, "I feel very unwell."</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">Why do they prate of the blessings of peace? Bloody war is a holy thing.</div> - <div class="i0">The world is wicked, and base, and vile—shall I show you a new kind of cure?</div> - <div class="i0">Smeared with blood and with parents' tears call for Moloch, horrible king!</div> -<span class="linenum">11</span> - <div class="i0">Let him trample to dust, with a brutal foot, whatever remains of good or of pure!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For I trust, if the low-browed rogue with a ticket-of-leave from the gaol,</div> - <div class="i0">Encountered the sergeant recruiting, in rainbow-like ribbons arrayed,</div> - <div class="i0">He would clutch the Queen's shilling with glee, and draining the dregs of his ale,</div> -<span class="linenum">12</span> - <div class="i0">Declare that the sack of Odessa would be quite of a piece with his trade.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wanted a quarrel to set the world straight, and cure it by letting of blood!</div> - <div class="i0">We are sick to the heart of ourselves I think, and so we are sick of each other:</div> - <div class="i0">Rapine, and carnage, and rage would do us all manner of good;</div> -<span class="linenum">13</span> - <div class="i0">Let Christian rise up against Christian, and brother take arms against brother!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Under the shadow of peace something was done that was good,</div> - <div class="i0">We tore out a bloody page from the book of our ancient laws;</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> - <div class="i0">We struck off a bitter tax from the poor man's scanty food,</div> -<span class="linenum">21</span> - <div class="i0">And justice bent down from her seat to give ear to the poor man's cause.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Under the shadow of peace thickly began to arise</div> - <div class="i0">Many a home for the working poor, many a school and church,</div> - <div class="i0">Little it may be, but better than roasting our enemies eyes</div> -<span class="linenum">22</span> - <div class="i0">With Captain Disney's patent, or sacking the town of Kertch.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Who clamours for war? Is it one who is ready to fight?</div> - <div class="i0">Is it one who will grasp the sword, and rush on the foe with a shout?</div> - <div class="i0">Far from it; 'tis one of a musing mind, who merely intends to write;</div> -<span class="linenum">29</span> - <div class="i0">He sits at home by his own snug hearth, and hears the storm howl without.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Who are the friends of the poor? The men who babble and prattle</div> - <div class="i0">About the Balance of Power, and the pomp and grandeur of war?</div> - <div class="i0">Thousands of miles away from the rush and the roar of battle,</div> -<span class="linenum">37</span> - <div class="i0">Sipping their Seltzer and Hock, and smoking a mild cigar?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Who are the friends of the poor! The writers without a name,</div> - <div class="i0">Who scribble at so much a column, whatever the Editors please,</div> - <div class="i0">Working the many-mouthed bellows which blew up the war to a flame,</div> -<span class="linenum">38</span> - <div class="i0">And pleading for rapine and blood, whilst they lounge in their clubs at their ease!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Methinks we have done enough for that turbaned goat, the Turk,</div> - <div class="i0">Who spits when a Christian meets him, and would spit, if he dared, in his face;</div> - <div class="i0">Methinks we have done enough, for 'tis but a thankless work</div> -<span class="linenum">41</span> - <div class="i0">To rivet with care on a beautiful land, the clutch of a barbarous race.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Whether they wag a saucy tongue, or stealthily work with the pen,</div> - <div class="i0">There is blood on the heads of those who are fanning the flames of war;</div> - <div class="i0">Blood on their heads, and blood at their doors; the blood of our own brave men,</div> -<span class="linenum">46</span> - <div class="i0">The blood of the wretched serfs who fight for their Faith and their Czar.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>I have quoted so much of this parody because -it was one of the first to draw attention to the -Laureate's love for the pride, pomp and circumstance -of glorious war, a bellicose spirit which -breathes quite as fiercely in his later writings, -as in his early songs. In all cases, where -he has attempted any Patriotic poem, the main -idea seems to be a bloodthirsty hatred of some -other nation; at one time, and for some years, it -was France, next it was Russia, and latterly -some of his writings have been well calculated -to revive our long forgotten animosity to Spain. -In so doing Tennyson has narrowed the circle -of his admirers, for war is far from being the -popular game it once was; and the poet, who -would be loved of all, should avoid controversial -topics. The Laureate's patriotic muse has certainly -sung a few noble songs, but many which -have been deservedly ridiculed; in his official -capacity he has written some of the most exquisite -lines in which adulation of Royalty has ever -been expressed; for whilst we know that his -laurelled predecessors credited the Stuarts and -the Georges with precisely the same virtues -which he has ascribed to members of the present -Royal Family, their <em>official</em> poems were -laughed at at the time, and are now forgotten; -whilst his have been greatly admired, especially -in high quarters, and the coronet which is to -reward his poetical loyalty confers on him, and -the latest of his descendants, a perpetual title -to rule over the people of Great Britain.</p> - -<p>All honour to the Poet, <em>as Poet</em>, as a titled -Legislator the choice rather reminds one of the -saying of Beaumarchais' hero;—"It fallait un -calculateur, ce fut un danseur qui l'obtint," a -saying which I may perhaps be allowed to -parody thus:—"Il fallait un Legislateur, ce fut -un chanteur qui l'obtint"</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h2><a name="THE_LAST_PEER" id="THE_LAST_PEER"></a>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AST</span> P<span class="smcapa">EER</span>.</h2> - - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Is not a poet better than a lord?"</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Robert Buchanan.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Alfred the Loved, the Laureate of the Court,</div> - <div class="i0">The poet of the people, he who sang</div> - <div class="i0">Of that great Order of the Table Round,</div> - <div class="i0">Had been a sailing; first into the North,</div> - <div class="i0">Then Southward, then toward the middle sea;</div> - <div class="i0">And with him went the Premier, journeying</div> - <div class="i0">Some said for health, and some, to hatch new schemes</div> - <div class="i0">With Kings and statesmen. Howsoe'r they came</div> - <div class="i0">To Denmark's Court, where princes gathered round</div> - <div class="i0">To hear our Alfred read his songs aloud.</div> - <div class="i1">And as they voyaged homeward to the shores</div> - <div class="i0">Of England, where the Isle our poet loved</div> - <div class="i0">Lay sparkling like a gem upon the sea,</div> - <div class="i0">They leaned athwart the bulwarks and spake low.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> - <div class="i0">"We are but Commoners, both you and I,"</div> - <div class="i0">Said Gladstone; "no adornment to our names,</div> - <div class="i0">No sounding titles; simply Mister This</div> - <div class="i0">And Mister That. But yet, the other day,</div> - <div class="i0">You read your verse to Emperors and Kings;</div> - <div class="i0">Princesses smiled upon you. You were great</div> - <div class="i0">As they, except in title. It were well</div> - <div class="i0">The distance lessened somewhat; Poet, you,</div> - <div class="i0">The prince of all the poets of our time,</div> - <div class="i0">Be something more, be noble, be a lord."</div> - <div class="i1">Then Alfred sate him down, his good grey hairs</div> - <div class="i0">Blown o'er his shoulders by the summer wind,</div> - <div class="i0">His eyes all dreamy; and he hummed a song,</div> - <div class="i0">Like, and yet unlike, that which Enid sang.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"Turn, Gladstone, turn thy followers into lords,</div> - <div class="i1">Turn those who wealth has gathered into hoards;</div> - <div class="i2">Turn those, and whom thou wilt, but turn not me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Leave, Gladstone, leave the name I always bore,</div> - <div class="i1">One that, mayhap, may live for evermore;</div> - <div class="i2">'Tis mine alone, and mine shall always be.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Turn into lords the owners of broad lands,</div> - <div class="i1">Turn him who in the path of progress stands,</div> - <div class="i2">And he who doeth service to the State.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Leave the name that all the people know.</div> - <div class="i1">A prouder title than thou canst bestow,</div> - <div class="i2">Made by myself, and not by station, great."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet, notwithstanding what he murmured then,</div> - <div class="i0">The thought dwelt in his heart; and many a day</div> - <div class="i0">Thereafter, as he sat at Haslemere,</div> - <div class="i0">Revolving and resolving, till his mind</div> - <div class="i0">Could scarce distinguish his resolves from doubts,</div> - <div class="i0">He muttered, "Ah! and I might be a lord!"</div> - <div class="i0">And so the thought grew on him, and brake down,</div> - <div class="i0">And overcame him; and the grand old name</div> - <div class="i0">Which the world knows, and reverences, and loves,</div> - <div class="i0">Seemed plain and bare and niggard, far too poor</div> - <div class="i0">For him who sang of Arthur and his knights,</div> - <div class="i0">And Camelot, and that strange, haunted mere.</div> - <div class="i1">And one who knew the name, and honour'd it,</div> - <div class="i0">Went to him, pleaded, then spake hotly thus:—</div> - <div class="i0">"Doubtest thou here so long?" Art thou the one</div> - <div class="i0">Whose tongue grew bitter only at the sound</div> - <div class="i0">Of titles, and whose satire never leaped</div> - <div class="i0">Forth from its hiding-place but when some claim</div> - <div class="i0">Of place and privilege provoked thy wrath?</div> - <div class="i0">Wherever travels our bold English speech—</div> - <div class="i0">Across the broad Atlantic, 'mid the sands</div> - <div class="i0">Of scorching Africa, or in the bush</div> - <div class="i0">Of the young, strong, far-off Antipodes—</div> - <div class="i0">Thy name is greater, more familiar, more</div> - <div class="i0">In all men's mouths than that of any lord.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O fair, full name, o'er which I used to dream,</div> - <div class="i0">Not thinking; O imperial-spreading fame,</div> - <div class="i0">And glory never such as poet bore,</div> - <div class="i0">Until they came, a Kingdom's pride, with thee;</div> - <div class="i0">I cannot know thee if thou art a lord;</div> - <div class="i0">Be Alfred Tennyson until the last;</div> - <div class="i0">Not Bonchurch, nor another. Is there none</div> - <div class="i0">Can yet persuade thee, ere it be too late?"</div> - <div class="i1">But he, the poet, listened, and was dumb,</div> - <div class="i0">And yet resolved. Ah, he would be a lord,</div> - <div class="i0">And sink the name round which his glory grew.</div> - <div class="i0">And so there came a herald with a scroll,</div> - <div class="i0">One who makes ancestors and coats of arms,</div> - <div class="i0">And gives alike to poet or to peer</div> - <div class="i0">A pedigree as long as Piccadilly;</div> - <div class="i0">And he brought with him much emblazonry,</div> - <div class="i0">A quartered shield, with, on the dexter side,</div> - <div class="i0">The grand old gardener, Adam, and his wife,</div> - <div class="i0">A-smiling at the claims of long descent.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">From <em>The Echo</em>, Dec. 7, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Nothing yet written about this unpopular title -(which jars on the ears of the people), approaches -the severity of the following caustic parody -which appeared in the <em>Pall Mall Gazette</em>, 12th -December, 1883:—</p> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">ARON</span> A<span class="smcapa">LFRED</span> V<span class="smcapa">ERE DE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ERE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">ARON</span> Alfred Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">Of me you win no new renown;</div> - <div class="i0">You thought to daze the country folk</div> - <div class="i1">And cockneys when you came to town.</div> - <div class="i0">See Wordsworth, Shelley, Cowper, Burns,</div> - <div class="i1">Withdraw in scorn, and sit retired!</div> - <div class="i0">The last of some six hundred Earls</div> - <div class="i1">Is not a place to be desired.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">We thought you proud to bear your name,</div> - <div class="i0">Your pride is yet no mate for ours,</div> - <div class="i1">Too proud to think a title fame.</div> - <div class="i0">We hail the genius—not the lord:</div> - <div class="i1">We love the poet's truer charms.</div> - <div class="i0">A simple singer with his dreams</div> - <div class="i1">Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">I see you march, I hear you say,</div> - <div class="i0">"Bow, bow, ye lower middle classes!"</div> - <div class="i1">Is all the burden of your lay.</div> - <div class="i0">We held you first without a peer,</div> - <div class="i1">And princely by your noble words words—</div> - <div class="i0">The Senior Wrangler of our bards</div> - <div class="i1">Is now the Wooden Spoon of lords.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">You put strange memories in my head;</div> - <div class="i0">For just five decades now have flown</div> - <div class="i1">Since we all mourned young Arthur dead.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, your wet eyes, your low replies!</div> - <div class="i1">Our tears have mingled with your tears:</div> - <div class="i0">To think that all such agony</div> - <div class="i1">Should end in making you a peer!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">Our England has had poets too:</div> - <div class="i0">They sang some grand old songs of yore,</div> - <div class="i1">But never reached such heights as you.</div> - <div class="i0">Will Shakespeare was a prince of bards,</div> - <div class="i1">Our Milton was a king to hear,</div> - <div class="i0">But had their manners that repose</div> - <div class="i1">Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">Robe, now your bays are sere and spent:</div> - <div class="i0">The King of Snobs is at your door,</div> - <div class="i1">To trace your long (and deep) descent.</div> - <div class="i0">A man's a man for a' that,</div> - <div class="i1">And rich on forty pounds a year;</div> - <div class="i0">If rank be the true guinea-stamp</div> - <div class="i1">To win Parnassus—die a peer!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trust me, Baron Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">When nobles eat their noblest words,</div> - <div class="i0">The grand old gardener and his wife</div> - <div class="i1">Smile at the airs of poet-lords.</div> - <div class="i0">Howe'er it be, it seems to me,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis only noble to be good.</div> - <div class="i0">Plain souls are more than coronets,</div> - <div class="i1">And simple lives than Baronhood.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I know you, Baron Vere de Vere:</div> - <div class="i1">You pine among your halls and bays:</div> - <div class="i0">The jaded light of your vain eyes</div> - <div class="i1">Is wearied with the flood of praise.</div> - <div class="i0">In glowing fame, with boundless wealth,</div> - <div class="i1">But sickening of a vague disease,</div> - <div class="i0">You are so dead to simple things,</div> - <div class="i1">You needs must play such pranks as these.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Alfred, Alfred Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">If Time be heavy on your hands,</div> - <div class="i0">Are there no toilers in our streets,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor any poor in all these lands?</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! teach the weak to strive and hope,</div> - <div class="i1">Or teach the great to help the low,</div> - <div class="i0">Pray Heaven for a noble heart,</div> - <div class="i1">And let the foolish title go.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>For the curious in such matters I give the -following extract from the <cite>St. James's Gazette</cite> -relating to Mr. Tennyson's lineage:—That Mr. -Tennyson comes of an ancient house is generally -known; not every one perhaps is aware of the -number of princes, soldiers, and statesmen, -famous in British or European history, from -whom he can claim descent. Without pretending -to give an exhaustive list of his royal and -noble ancestors, it may be interesting at the present -moment to point out a few of the more -renowned among them. The Laureate's descent -from John Savage, Earl Rivers (from which stock -came Johnson's friend), implies descent from the -Lady Anne, eldest sister of Edward IV., and so -from sixteen English kings—namely, the first -three Edwards, Henry III., John, the first two -Henrys, William the Conqueror, Edmund Iron-side, -Ethelred the Unready, Edgar the Peaceable, -Edmund I., Edward the Elder, Alfred, Ethelwulf, -and Egbert. But Edward III. was the son -of Isabella, daughter of Philip the Fair, King of -France, who descended from Hugh Capet, and -nine intervening French Kings, among whom -were Robert II., Philip Augustus, Louis VIII., -and St. Louis. The last is not the only saint -who figures in this splendid pedigree. The -mother of Edward II. was Eleanor, daughter of -Ferdinand III., King of Castle and Leon, who -was canonized by Clement X. Again, through -the marriage of Edmund of Langley, Duke of -York, with Isabel, daughter of Peter the Cruel, -Mr. Tennyson descends from Sancho the Great -and Alphonso the Wise. Other crowned ancestors -of the poet are the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, -and several Kings of Scotland, notably -Malcolm III. and the "gracious Duncan," his -father. In truth, the Shakespearean gallery is -crowded with portraits of his progenitors—e.g., -besides those already mentioned, John of Gaunt, -Edmund Mortimer Earl of March, Richard Earl -of Cambridge, Richard Plantagenet "the Yeoman," -Edmund Beaufort Duke of Somerset, -Lord Hastings (of the reigns of Edward IV. and -Richard III.), and Lord Stanley. Mr. Tennyson is -not only descended from the first Earl of Derby -and that third earl with whose death, according -to Camden, "the glory of hospitality seemed to -fall asleep," but from the "stout Stanley" who -fronted the right of the Scots at Flodden, and -whose name in Scott's poem was the last on the -lips of the dying Marmion. "Lord Marmion," -says Scott, "is entirely a fictitious personage:" -"but" he adds "that the family of Marmion, Lords -of Fontenay in Normandy, was highly distinguished; -Robert de Marmion, a follower of Duke -William, having obtained a grant of the castle -and town of Tamworth. This Robert's descendant, -Avice, married John, Lord Grey of Rotherfield, -one of the original Knights of the Garter, -whose great-granddaughter became (in 1401) -the wife of John, Lord D'Eyncourt, another -ancestor of Mr. Tennyson's; whose uncle, the -Right Honourable Charles Tennyson, many -years Liberal member for Lambeth, assumed the -name of D'Eyncourt by royal licence."</p> - -<p>Probably the learned compiler of this abstruse -genealogy has no time to study the poets, or he -might have read of one who claimed an even -more ancient descent:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OBLES</span> and H<span class="smcapa">ERALDS</span>, by your leave,</div> - <div class="i1">Here lies, what once was, M<span class="smcapa">ATTHEW</span> P<span class="smcapa">RIOR</span>,</div> - <div class="i0">The son of A<span class="smcapa">DAM</span> and of E<span class="smcapa">VE</span>,</div> - <div class="i1">Can S<span class="smcapa">TUART</span> or N<span class="smcapa">ASSAU</span> claim higher?</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<p>The following beautiful lines, which occur in -<em>The Princess</em>, have been the subject of many -parodies:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Home they brought her warrior dead;</div> - <div class="i1">She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry:</div> - <div class="i0">All her maidens, watching, said,</div> - <div class="i1">"She must weep or she will die."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then they praised him soft and low,</div> - <div class="i1">Call'd him worthy to be loved,</div> - <div class="i0">Truest friend and noblest foe;</div> - <div class="i1">Yet she neither spoke nor moved.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Stole a maiden from her place,</div> - <div class="i1">Lightly to the warrior stept,</div> - <div class="i0">Took the face cloth from the face;</div> - <div class="i1">Yet she neither moved nor wept.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Rose a nurse of ninety years,</div> - <div class="i1">Set his child upon her knee—</div> - <div class="i0">Like summer tempest came her tears—</div> - <div class="i1">"Sweet my child, I live for thee."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>An excellent parody, by Shirley Brooks, appeared -in <em>Punch</em>, December 30, 1865.</p> - - -<h3>H<span class="smcapa">OME THEY</span> B<span class="smcapa">ROUGHT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>With abject apologies to Mr. Tennyson, Miss Dance and -Miss Dolby</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">H<span class="smcapa">OME</span> they brought her lap-dog dead,</div> - <div class="i1">Just run over by a fly,</div> - <div class="i0">J<span class="smcapa">EAMES</span> to Buttons, winking, said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Won't there be a row, O my!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then they called the flyman low,</div> - <div class="i1">Said his baseness could be proved:</div> - <div class="i0">How she to the Beak should go—</div> - <div class="i1">Yet she neither spoke nor moved.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Said her maid (and risked her place),</div> - <div class="i1">"In the 'ouse it should have kept,</div> - <div class="i0">Flymen drives at such a pace"—</div> - <div class="i1">Still the lady's anger slept.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Rose her husband, best of dears,</div> - <div class="i1">Laid a bracelet on her knee.</div> - <div class="i0">Like playful child she boxed his ears—</div> - <div class="i1">"Sweet old pet!—let's have some tea."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And the following by Mr. Sawyer is also worthy -of preservation:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">ECOGNITION</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Home they brought her sailor son,</div> - <div class="i1">Grown a man across the sea,</div> - <div class="i0">Tall and broad and black of beard,</div> - <div class="i1">And hoarse of voice as man may be.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Hand to shake and mouth to kiss.</div> - <div class="i1">Both he offered ere he spoke;</div> - <div class="i0">But she said—"What man is this</div> - <div class="i1">Comes to play a sorry joke?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then they praised him—call'd him "smart,"</div> - <div class="i1">"Tightest lad that ever stept;"</div> - <div class="i0">But her son she did not know,</div> - <div class="i1">And she neither smiled nor wept.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Rose a nurse of ninety years,</div> - <div class="i1">Set a pigeon-pie in sight:</div> - <div class="i0">She saw him eat—"'Tis he! 'tis he!"</div> - <div class="i1">She knew him—by his appetite!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In January, 1882, Mr. Cook speaking at a -public meeting in reference to the state of -affairs in Ireland at that time, observed that -he could not better represent Mr. Gladstone's -position in this land question than by quoting a -parody on that celebrated poem of Tennyson's, -"Home they brought her warrior dead":—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Home they brought Montmorres dead,</div> - <div class="i1"><em>He</em> nor sighed nor uttered cry.</div> - <div class="i0">All the English angered said</div> - <div class="i1">Strike! or know the reason why.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Jones and Boycott labouring well</div> - <div class="i1">Lost the fruits of earlier years;</div> - <div class="i0">Surely now 'tis time to quell,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet no remedy appears,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Farmers who had paid some rent</div> - <div class="i1">On the cold ground weltering lay;</div> - <div class="i0">Still on landlord plunder bent</div> - <div class="i1">Small attention did he pay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Travelling Forster entering said:</div> - <div class="i1">But our "Bill" will strangled be;</div> - <div class="i0">Then the Premier raised his head—</div> - <div class="i1">Oh sweet, my child, I strike for thee.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>I<span class="smcapa">N</span> I<span class="smcapa">MMEMORIAM.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Ascribed to the author of "In Memoriam" but not believed -to be his</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We seek to know, and knowing seek;</div> - <div class="i1">We seek, we know, and every sense</div> - <div class="i1">Is trembling with the great intense,</div> - <div class="i0">And vibrating to what we speak.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We ask too much, we seek too oft;</div> - <div class="i1">We know enough, and should no more;</div> - <div class="i1">And yet we skim through Fancy's lore,</div> - <div class="i0">And look to earth and not aloft.</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">O sea! whose ancient ripples lie</div> - <div class="i1">On red-ribbed sands where seaweeds shone;</div> - <div class="i1">O moon! whose golden sickle's gone,</div> - <div class="i0">O voices all! like you I die!</div> - <div class="i12">(<em>Dies.</em>)</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From <em>Medley</em>, by Cuthbert Bede, 1856.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> - -<p>The 1842 volume of Tennyson's works contained -a short poem in four verses entitled</p> - - -<h3>A F<span class="smcapa">AREWELL.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,</div> - <div class="i1">Thy tribute wave deliver:</div> - <div class="i0">No more by thee my steps shall be,</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - <div class="i3">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">A thousand suns will stream on thee,</div> - <div class="i1">A thousand moons will quiver;</div> - <div class="i0">But not by thee my steps shall be,</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following parody is taken from <em>Odd Echoes -from Oxford</em>, 1872.</p> - - -<h3>A F<span class="smcapa">AREWELL.</span></h3> - -<p class="center"><em>After sleeping in the Argyle Hotel, Dunoon.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Bite on, thou pertinacious flea,</div> - <div class="i1">And draw the tiny river;</div> - <div class="i0">No more for thee my blood shall be,</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Bite, fiercely bite, and take with glee</div> - <div class="i1">From each unwilling giver;</div> - <div class="i0">No food for thee my blood shall be,</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And here will toss some wretched he,</div> - <div class="i1">And here he'll tear and shiver;</div> - <div class="i0">Bed-making she will hunt the flea</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A thousand limbs may smart for thee,</div> - <div class="i1">A thousand skins may quiver;</div> - <div class="i0">But not for thee my blood shall be,</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>A still closer imitation of the versification of -the original is contained in <em>The Shotover Papers</em>, -published in Oxford in 1874.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Rise up, cold reverend, to a see,</div> - <div class="i1">Confound the unbeliever!</div> - <div class="i0">Yet ne'er 'neath thee my seat will be</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Preach, softly preach, in lawn and be</div> - <div class="i1">A comely model liver,</div> - <div class="i0">But ne'er 'neath thee my seat shall be</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And here shall sleep thine alderman,</div> - <div class="i1">And here thy pauper shiver,</div> - <div class="i0">And here by thee shall buzz the "she,"</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A thousand men shall sneer at thee,</div> - <div class="i1">A thousand women quiver,</div> - <div class="i0">But ne'er 'neath thee my seat shall be</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">DE TO</span> A<span class="smcapa">LDGATE</span> P<span class="smcapa">UMP</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flow down, false rivulet, to the sea</div> - <div class="i1">Thy sewage wave deliver;</div> - <div class="i0">No longer will I quaff from thee</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The dust of citizens of yore,</div> - <div class="i1">Who dwelt beside the river,</div> - <div class="i0">And leakages of sewers pour</div> - <div class="i1">Into thy stream for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A thousand hands may pump from thee,</div> - <div class="i1">A thousand pails deliver</div> - <div class="i0">Their sparkling draughts, but not to me</div> - <div class="i1">For ever and for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, let them lock thy nozzle up,</div> - <div class="i1">And drain thee to the river;</div> - <div class="i0">Nor any mortal fill his cup</div> - <div class="i1">Again from thee for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">From <em>Funny Folks</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> U<span class="smcapa">NDERGRAD</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">H<span class="smcapa">IS</span> fists across his breast he laid,</div> - <div class="i1">He was more mad than words can say;</div> - <div class="i0">Bareheaded rushed the undergrad</div> - <div class="i1">To mingle in November's fray.</div> - <div class="i0">In cap and gown a don stepped down</div> - <div class="i1">To meet and greet him on his way;</div> - <div class="i0">"It is no wonder," said his friends,</div> - <div class="i1">"He has been drinking half the day."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All black and blue, like cloud and skies,</div> - <div class="i1">Next day that proctor's face was seen;</div> - <div class="i0">Bruised were his eyebrows, bruised his eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">Bruised was his nose and pummelled mien.</div> - <div class="i0">So dire a case, such black disgrace,</div> - <div class="i1">Since Oxford was had never been;</div> - <div class="i0">That undergrad took change of air</div> - <div class="i1">At the suggestion of the dean.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This is taken from <em>Odd Echoes from Oxford</em>, -1872, and is a parody on <em>The Beggar Maid and -King Cophetua</em>, which was also in the 1842 collection.</p> - -<p>In a little volume by C. S. Calverley entitled -"Fly Leaves," (George Bell & Sons, 1878) there -are several clever parodies, and one, entitled -<em>Wanderers</em>, is an especially happy imitation of -the style of Tennyson's Brook:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> T<span class="smcapa">INKER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I turn'd me to the tinker, who</div> - <div class="i1">Was loafing down a by-way:</div> - <div class="i0">I asked him where he lived—a stare</div> - <div class="i1">Was all I got in answer,</div> - <div class="i0">As on he trudged: I rightly judged</div> - <div class="i1">The stare said, "Where I can, sir."?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> - <div class="i0">I asked him if he'd take a whiff</div> - <div class="i1">Of 'bacca; he acceded;</div> - <div class="i0">He grew communicative too,</div> - <div class="i1">(A pipe was all he needed,)</div> - <div class="i0">Till of the tinker's life, I think,</div> - <div class="i1">I knew as much as he did.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I loiter down by thorp and town;</div> - <div class="i1">For any job I'm willing;</div> - <div class="i0">Take here and there a dusty brown,</div> - <div class="i1">And here and there a shilling.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I deal in every ware in turn,</div> - <div class="i1">I've rings for buddin' Sally</div> - <div class="i0">That sparkle like those eyes of her'n;</div> - <div class="i1">I've liquor for the valet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I steal from th' parson's strawberry plots,</div> - <div class="i1">I hide by th' squire's covers;</div> - <div class="i0">I teach the sweet young housemaids what's</div> - <div class="i1">The art of trapping lovers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The things I've done 'neath moon and stars</div> - <div class="i1">Have got me into messes:</div> - <div class="i0">I've seen the sky through prison bars,</div> - <div class="i1">I've torn up prison dresses.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I've sat, I've sighed, I've gloom'd, I've glanced</div> - <div class="i1">With envy at the swallows</div> - <div class="i0">That through the windows slid, and danced</div> - <div class="i1">(Quite happy) round the gallows;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"But out again I come, and show</div> - <div class="i1">My face nor care a stiver,</div> - <div class="i0">For trades are brisk and trades are slow,</div> - <div class="i1">But mine goes on for ever."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Another parody of the same original, and -almost as clever, is contained in a little anonymous -Pamphlet, entitled <em>Idyls of the Rink</em>, -published by Judd & Co., in 1876, it is called</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">INKER</span></h3> - -<p class="center"><em>By Alfred Tennyson.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I start from home in happy mood,</div> - <div class="i1">Arrayed in dress so pretty,</div> - <div class="i0">And sparkle out among the men,</div> - <div class="i1">Who come up from the City.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But first I linger by the brink,</div> - <div class="i1">And calmly reconnoitre,</div> - <div class="i0">For when I'm fairly on the rink,</div> - <div class="i1">I never care to loiter.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then "follow me," I loudly call,</div> - <div class="i1">At skating I'm so clever,</div> - <div class="i0">For men may come, and men may fall,</div> - <div class="i1">But I rink on for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I chatter with my little band</div> - <div class="i1">Of friends so gay and hearty,</div> - <div class="i0">And sometimes we go hand in hand,</div> - <div class="i1">And sometimes in a party.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I slip, I slide, I glance, I glide,</div> - <div class="i1">There is no one can teach me,</div> - <div class="i0">I give them all a berth full wide,</div> - <div class="i1">And not a soul can reach me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I chatter, chatter, to them all,</div> - <div class="i1">At skating I'm so clever,</div> - <div class="i0">For men may come, and men may fall,</div> - <div class="i1">But I rink on for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I wind about, and in and out,</div> - <div class="i1">With here a figure tracing.</div> - <div class="i0">And here and there I dance about,</div> - <div class="i1">And here I go a-racing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'm always making graceful curves,</div> - <div class="i1">As everyone alleges.</div> - <div class="i0">And while I've nerve, I'll never swerve,</div> - <div class="i1">From in and outside edges.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And after me I draw them all,</div> - <div class="i1">At skating I'm so clever,</div> - <div class="i0">For men may come, and men may fall,</div> - <div class="i1">But I rink on for ever.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I now come to a clever and most amusing -little work entitled <cite>Puck on Pegasus</cite>, by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell, -which was published about -sixteen years ago by the late Mr. John Camden -Hotten. In the original edition this work was -a small quarto, with numerous illustrations and -a characteristic frontispiece designed and etched -by dear old George Cruikshank. It has since run -through numerous editions, and is now included -in the series known as <cite>The Mayfair Library</cite>, -published by Chatto and Windus. It contains -the following parodies:—"Song of In-the-Water," -after <cite>Longfellow;</cite> "The Du Chaillu -Controversy," after <cite>The Bon Gaultier Ballads;</cite> -"The Fight for the Championship," after <cite>Lord -Macaulay;</cite> "How the Daughters come down at -Dunoon," after <cite>Robert Southey;</cite> "Wus, ever wus," -after <em>Tom Moore;</em> "Exexolor!" after <cite>Longfellow's</cite> -Excelsior; "Charge of the Light (Irish) Brigade," -after <cite>Tennyson</cite>.</p> - -<p>The incidents referred to in the last-mentioned -parody have now somewhat faded from the -public memory. It is sufficient to say that the -warlike behaviour of the one brigade was quite -as great a contrast to the action of the other, as -the parody here given presents to the original -poem:—</p> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span> (I<span class="smcapa">RISH</span>) B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Not by A——d T——n</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Southward Ho—Here we go!</div> - <div class="i1">O'er the wave onward</div> - <div class="i0">Out from the Harbour of Cork</div> - <div class="i1">Sailed the Six Hundred!</div> - <div class="i0">Sailed like Crusaders thence,</div> - <div class="i1">Burning for Peter's pence,—</div> - <div class="i1">Burning for fight and fame—</div> - <div class="i1">Burning to show their zeal—</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> - <div class="i1">Into the gates of Rome,</div> - <div class="i1">Into the jaws of Hell,</div> - <div class="i2">(It's all the same)!</div> - <div class="i0">Marched the Six Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"Barracks, and tables laid!</div> - <div class="i0">Food for the Pope's Brigade;"</div> - <div class="i1">But ev'ry Celt afraid,</div> - <div class="i0">Gazed on the grub dismay'd—</div> - <div class="i1">Twigged he had blundered;—</div> - <div class="i0">"Who can eat rancid grease?</div> - <div class="i0">Call <em>this</em> a room a-piece?"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></div> - <div class="i1">"Silence! unseemly din,</div> - <div class="i0">Prick them with bayonets in."</div> - <div class="i1">Blessèd Six Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Waves every battle blade—</div> - <div class="i0">"Forward the Pope's brigade!"</div> - <div class="i1">Was there a man obeyed?</div> - <div class="i0">No—where they stood they stayed,</div> - <div class="i0">Though Lamoricière pray'd,</div> - <div class="i1">Threatened, and thundered—</div> - <div class="i0">"Charge!" Down their sabres then</div> - <div class="i0">Clashed, as they turn'd—and ran—</div> - <div class="i0">Sab'ring the empty air,</div> - <div class="i0">Each of one taking care,</div> - <div class="i0">Here, there, and ev'rywhere</div> - <div class="i1">Scattered and sundered.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sick of the powder smell,</div> - <div class="i0">Down on their knees they fell,</div> - <div class="i1">Howling for hearth and home—</div> - <div class="i1">Cursing the Pope of Rome—</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst afar shot and shell</div> - <div class="i1">Volleyed and thundered;</div> - <div class="i0">Captured, alive and well,</div> - <div class="i0">Ev'ry Hibernian swell,</div> - <div class="i0">Came back the tale to tell;</div> - <div class="i0">Back from the states of Rome—</div> - <div class="i0">Back from the gates of Hell—</div> - <div class="i1">Safe and sound every man—</div> - <div class="i1">Jack of Six Hundred!</div> - <div class="i0">When shall their story fade?</div> - <div class="i0">Oh the mistake they made!</div> - <div class="i1">Nobody wondered,</div> - <div class="i0">Pity the fools they made—</div> - <div class="i0">Pity the Pope's Brigade—</div> - <div class="i1">N<span class="smcapa">OBBLED</span> Six Hundred!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Like the accomplished authors of <cite>The Bon -Gaultier Ballads</cite>, Mr. Cholmondeley-Pennell is -almost too much a Poet to be thoroughly successful -as a mere Parodist. His muse often carries -him away, and what begins in mere <em>badinage</em>, -and playful imitation, runs into graceful sentiment -and poetical imagery, until the author -pulls her up short, and compels her to turn aside -again into the well-worn "footprints in the sand -of time."</p> - -<p>It would be difficult to find a better example -both of the merits, and, so far as <em>mere parody</em> is -concerned, of the defects of Mr. Cholmondeley-Pennell's -style than in the following lines, which -he has kindly permitted me to insert in this -collection.—They parody the <cite>Morte D'Arthur:</cite>—</p> - -<h3>L<span class="smcapa">INES SENT TO THE LATE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARLES</span> B<span class="smcapa">UXTON</span>, M.P.,<br /> -<span class="smcapa">WITH MY FAVOURITE HUNTER</span>, W<span class="smcapa">HITE</span>-M<span class="smcapa">IST.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The sequel of to-day dissevers all</div> - <div class="i0">This fellowship of straight riders, and hard men</div> - <div class="i0">To hounds—the flyers of the hunt.</div> - <div class="i15">I think</div> - <div class="i0">That we shall never more in days to come</div> - <div class="i0">Hold cheery talk of hounds and horses (each</div> - <div class="i0">Praising his own the most) shall steal away</div> - <div class="i0">Through brake and coppice-wood, or side by side</div> - <div class="i0">Breast the sharp bullfinch and deep-holding dyke,</div> - <div class="i0">Sweep through the uplands, skim the vale below,</div> - <div class="i0">And leave the land behind us like a dream.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">I tear me from this passion that I loved—</div> - <div class="i0">Though Paget sware that I should ride again—</div> - <div class="i0">But yet I think I shall not; I have done:</div> - <div class="i0">My hunt is hunted: I have skimmed the cream,</div> - <div class="i0">The blossom of the seasons, and no more</div> - <div class="i0">For me shall gallant Scott have cause for wrath,</div> - <div class="i0">Or injured farmer mourn his wasted crops.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Now, therefore, take my horse, which was my pride</div> - <div class="i0">(For still thou know'st he bore me like a man—),</div> - <div class="i0">And wheel him not, nor plunge him in the mere,</div> - <div class="i0">But set him straight and give his head the rein,</div> - <div class="i0">And he shall bear thee lightly to the front,</div> - <div class="i0">Swifter than wind, and stout as truest steel,</div> - <div class="i0">And none shall rob thee of thy pride of place.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>I<span class="smcapa">N THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">CHOOLS AT</span> O<span class="smcapa">XFORD</span>.<br /> - -<span class="small90">TO AN EXAMINER</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Suggested by the Laureate's conundrum "In The Garden -at Swaintson."</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Butcher boys shouted without,</div> - <div class="i7">Within was writing for thee,</div> - <div class="i6">Shadows of three live men</div> - <div class="i7">Talked as they walked into me.</div> - <div class="i0">Shadows of three live men, and you were one of the three.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Butcher boys sang in the streets,</div> - <div class="i7">The bobby was far away,</div> - <div class="i6">Butcher boys shouted and sang</div> - <div class="i7">In their usual maddening way.—</div> - <div class="i0">Still in the Schools quite courteous you were torturing men all the day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Two dead men have I known,</div> - <div class="i7">Examiners settled by me.</div> - <div class="i6">Two dead men have I scored,</div> - <div class="i7">Now I will settle with thee.</div> - <div class="i0">Three dead men must I score, and thou art the last of the three.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">R<span class="smcapa">EGNOLD</span> G<span class="smcapa">REENLEAF</span>.</div> - <div class="i12">(<em>The Shotovor Papers</em>, 1874).</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> - -<p>Since the year 1845 Alfred Tennyson has been -in the receipt of a civil list pension of £200 a -year, so that, in round figures, he has received -about £8,000 of the public money, besides -drawing the annual salary of £100 since his -appointment as Poet Laureate, November, 1850. -The sale of his works has also, of course, been -greatly increased, owing to his official title, and -the present fortunate holder of the laurels enjoys -a fortune much in excess of that of any of -his predecessors in office. From the days of Ben -Jonson downwards Poets Laureate have been -paid to sing the praises of the Royal Family; of -these Laureates, Jonson, Dryden, Southey, and -Wordsworth were true poets, but the others in -the line of succession were mere rhymesters, -whose very names are now all but forgotten. -Eusden, Cibber, and Pye were unremitting in -their production of New Year, and Birth-day -Odes, Southey did little in this way, and -Wordsworth would not stoop to compose any -official poems whatever, although he wore the -laurels for seven years.</p> - -<p>It was reserved for Alfred Tennyson to revive -the custom, and he has composed numerous -adulatory poems on events in the domestic -history of our Royal Family.</p> - -<p>The smallest praise that can be bestowed on -Tennyson's official poems is that they are immeasurably -superior to any produced by former -Laureates; and although the events recorded -have but a passing interest, the poems will -probably long retain their popularity. The -death of the princess Charlotte in 1817 was, no -doubt, considered at the time as a greater -public loss than was the death of Prince Albert -in 1861; yet who now reads Southey's poem in -her praise? Whereas the beauty of Tennyson's -<em>Dedication</em> of the Idyls of the King will cause it -to be remembered long after people have forgotten -the Prince to whom it was inscribed.</p> - -<p>The Dedication commences thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"T<span class="smcapa">HESE</span> to his Memory—since he held them dear,</div> - <div class="i0">Perhaps as finding there unconsciously</div> - <div class="i0">Some image of himself—I dedicate,</div> - <div class="i0">I dedicate,—I consecrate with tears—</div> - <div class="i0">These Idyls.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"And, indeed, He seems to me</div> - <div class="i0">Scarce other than my own ideal knight."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote> - -<p>N<span class="smcapa">OTE.</span>—Poets Laureate, with the dates of their appointment:—Benjamin -Jonson, 1615-16; Sir William Davenant, -1638; John Dryden, 1670; Thomas Shadwell, 1688; -Nahum Tate, 1692; Nicholas Rowe, 1715; Lawrence -Eusden, 1718; Colley Cibber, 1730; William Whitehead, -1757; Thomas Warton, 1785; Henry James Pye, 1790; -<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Robort'">Robert</ins> Southey, 1813; William Wordsworth, 1843; and -Alfred Tennyson, 19th November, 1850.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Continuing in this strain for another fifty -lines, the Poet credits the Prince with every -conceivable virtue, after which, as a contrast, it -is almost a relief to turn to some parody, less -ideal, and less heroic.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HESE</span> to his memory—since he held them dear,</div> - <div class="i0">Perchance as finding there unwittingly</div> - <div class="i0">Some picture of himself—I dedicate,</div> - <div class="i0">I dedicate, I consecrate with smiles—</div> - <div class="i0">These Idle Lays—</div> - <div class="i2">Indeed, He seemed to me</div> - <div class="i0">Scarce other than my own ideal liege,</div> - <div class="i0">Who did not muchly care to trouble take;</div> - <div class="i0">But his concern was, comfortable ease</div> - <div class="i0">To dress in well-cut tweeds, in doeskin suits,</div> - <div class="i0">In pants of patterns marvellous to see;</div> - <div class="i0">To smoke good brands; to quaff rare vintages;</div> - <div class="i0">To feed himself with dainty meats withal;</div> - <div class="i0">To sport with Amaryllis in the shade;</div> - <div class="i0">To toy with what Neræa calls <em>her</em> hair;</div> - <div class="i0">And, in a general way, to happy be,</div> - <div class="i0">If possible, and always debonair;</div> - <div class="i0">Who spoke few wise things; did some foolish ones;</div> - <div class="i0">Who was good-hearted, and by no means stiff;</div> - <div class="i0">Who loved himself as well as any man;</div> - <div class="i0">He who throughout his realms to their last isle</div> - <div class="i0">Was known full well, whose portraiture was found</div> - <div class="i0">In ev'ry album.</div> - <div class="i2">We have lost him; he is gone;</div> - <div class="i0">We know him now; ay, ay, perhaps too well,</div> - <div class="i0">For now we see him as he used to be,</div> - <div class="i0">How shallow, larky, genial-hearted, gay;</div> - <div class="i0">With how much of self-satisfaction blessed—</div> - <div class="i0">Not swaying to this faction nor to that,</div> - <div class="i0">Because, perhaps, he neither understood;</div> - <div class="i0">Not making his high place a Prussian perch</div> - <div class="i0">Of War's ambition, but the vantage ground</div> - <div class="i0">Of comfort; and through a long tract of years,</div> - <div class="i0">Wearing a bouquet in his button-hole;</div> - <div class="i0">Once playing a thousand nameless little games,</div> - <div class="i0">Till communistic cobblers gleeful danced,</div> - <div class="i0">And democratic delvers hissed, "Ha! ha!"</div> - <div class="i0">Who dared foreshadow,, then, for his own son</div> - <div class="i0">A looser life, one less distraught than his?</div> - <div class="i0">Or how could Dilkland, dreaming of <em>his</em> sons,</div> - <div class="i0">Have hoped less for them than some heritance</div> - <div class="i0">Of such a life, a heart, a mind as thine,</div> - <div class="i0">Thou noble Father of her Kings to be—</div> - <div class="i0">If fate so wills it, O most potent K——;</div> - <div class="i0">The patron once of Polo and of Poole,</div> - <div class="i0">Of actors and leviathan "comiques;"</div> - <div class="i0">Once dear to Science as to Art; once dear</div> - <div class="i0">To Sanscrit erudition as to either;</div> - <div class="i0">Dear to thy country in a double sense;</div> - <div class="i0">Dear to purveyors; ay, a liege, indeed,</div> - <div class="i0">Beyond all titles, and a household name,</div> - <div class="i0">Hereafter, through all times, Guelpho the Gay!</div> - <div class="i15"><em>The Coming K——</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Coming K——</em> was published about ten -years ago as one of Beeton's Christmas Annuals, -and created a sensation at the time, as it dealt -with some social scandals then fresh in the -public mind. After enjoying a rapid sale for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -short period, it was suddenly withdrawn in a -mysterious manner from circulation, and is now -rather scarce. Following the Dedication, just -quoted, are parodies of the Idyls of the King, -with the following titles:—The Coming of -Guelpho; Heraint and Shenid; Vilien; Loosealot -and Delaine; The Glass of Ale; Silleas and -Gettarre; The Last Carnival; and Goanveer. -In each of these parts there are parodies well -worthy of preservation, but space will only -permit of the insertion of the following extracts, -one from <cite>Vilien</cite>, the other from <cite>Goanveer</cite>.</p> - -<p>In <em>Vilien</em>, the then prevalent crazes for -Spiritualism, Table Rapping, and Cabinet -séances are amusingly satirised; Vilien seeks -out Herlin the Wizard, and thus begs him to -reveal the one great secret of his art:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I ever feared you were not wholly mine,</div> - <div class="i0">And see—you ask me what it is I want?</div> - <div class="i0">Yet people call you wizard—why is this?</div> - <div class="i0">What is it makes you seem so proud and cold?</div> - <div class="i0">Yet if you'd really know what boon I ask,</div> - <div class="i0">Then tell me, dearest Herlin, ere I go,</div> - <div class="i0">The charm with which you make your table rap.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i7">O yield my boon,</div> - <div class="i0">And grant my re-iterated wish,</div> - <div class="i0">Then will I love you, ay, and you shall kiss</div> - <div class="i0">My grateful lips—you shall upon my word."</div> - <div class="i0">And Herlin took his hand from hers and said,</div> - <div class="i0">O, Vilien, ask not this, but aught beside.</div> - <div class="i0">But as thou lov'st me, Vilien, do not ask</div> - <div class="i0">The way in which I make the table rap.</div> - <div class="i0">O ask it not!</div> - <div class="i0">And Vilien, like the tenderest hearted maid</div> - <div class="i0">That ever jilted swain or lover mocked,</div> - <div class="i0">Made answer, either eyelid wet with tears:</div> - <div class="i0">"Nay, Herlin, if you love me, say not so;</div> - <div class="i0">You do but tease to talk to me like this.</div> - <div class="i0">Methinks you hardly know the tender rhyme</div> - <div class="i0">Of 'Trust me for all in all, or not at all.'</div> - <div class="i0">I heard a 'comique' sing the verses once,</div> - <div class="i0">And they shall answer for me. List the song:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'In love, 'tis as in trade; if trade were ours,</div> - <div class="i0">Credit and cash could ne'er be equal powers—</div> - <div class="i0">Give trust to all or don't give trust at all.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It is the little rift within the lute</div> - <div class="i0">That cracks the sound and makes the music mute,</div> - <div class="i0">And leaves the banjo nothing worth at all.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It is the little moth within the suit,</div> - <div class="i0">It is the merry maggot in the fruit,</div> - <div class="i0">That worming surely, slowly ruins all.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It is the little leaven makes the lump,</div> - <div class="i0">It is the little piston works the pump;</div> - <div class="i0">And <span class="smcapa">A-L-L</span> spells <span class="smcapa">ALL</span>, and—all is all.'</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O, Herlin, do you understand my rhyme?</div> - <div class="i0">And Herlin coughed, and owned that he did not.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And Villien, naught abashed, replied again:</div> - <div class="i0">"Lo, now, how silly you must be, you know,</div> - <div class="i0">My simple stanzas not to understand;</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis thus our truest poets write their rhymes;</div> - <div class="i0">They try their sense and meaning to conceal;</div> - <div class="i0">But you should solve their riddles, though 'tis said</div> - <div class="i0">They don't the answers know themselves, sometimes.</div> - <div class="i0">However, be that as it may, I think</div> - <div class="i0">I'll give you one verse more. So Villien sang:</div> - <div class="i0">"That sign, once mine, is thine, ay, closelier mine,</div> - <div class="i0">For what is thine is mine, and mine is thine,</div> - <div class="i0">And this, I much opine, is line on line;</div> - <div class="i0">To learn the obvious moral once for all."</div> - <div class="i0">But Herlin looked aghast, as well he might,</div> - <div class="i0">Nor knew the teaching of her little song."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The last legend, that of <em>Goanveer</em>, tells how—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Fleet Goanveer had lost the race, and stood</div> - <div class="i0">There in the stable near to Epsom Downs."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This mare the Coming K—— had backed -heavily, but his trusted friend, Sir Loosealot, -obtaining access to her stable the night before -the race, had drugged her, so that on the day -she hobbled sickly to the winning-post. By this -evil trick Sir Loosealot wins much, whilst the -Coming K—— is a heavy loser. Guelpho visits -the mare in her stable, and thus addresses her, -in a parody of the celebrated passage in -Guinevere, where Arthur parts from his faithless -Queen:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And all went well till on the turf I went,</div> - <div class="i0">Believing thou wouldst fortune bring to me,</div> - <div class="i0">And place me higher yet in name and fame.</div> - <div class="i0">Then came the shameful act of Loosealot;</div> - <div class="i0">Then came thy breaking down in that great race;</div> - <div class="i0">And now my name's worth nil at Tattersall's,</div> - <div class="i0">And all my knights can curl their lips at me;</div> - <div class="i0">Can say 'I've come a cropper,' and the like,</div> - <div class="i0">And all through thee and he—and him, I mean—</div> - <div class="i0">But slips will happen at a time like this.</div> - <div class="i0">Canst wonder I am sad when thus I see</div> - <div class="i0">I am contemned amongst my chiefest knights?</div> - <div class="i0">When I am hinted at in public prints</div> - <div class="i0">As being a man who sold the people's race?</div> - <div class="i0">But think not, Goanveer, my matchless mare,</div> - <div class="i0">Thy lord has wholly lost his love for thee.</div> - <div class="i0">Yet must I leave thee to thy shame, for how</div> - <div class="i0">Couldst thou be entered for a race again?</div> - <div class="i0">The public would not hear of it; nay, more,</div> - <div class="i0">Would hoot and hound thee from the racing-course,</div> - <div class="i0">Being one they had loved, yet one on whom they had lost."</div> - <div class="i0">He paused, and in the pause the mare rejoiced.</div> - <div class="i0">For he relaxed the caresses of his arms;</div> - <div class="i0">And, thinking he had done, the mare did neigh,</div> - <div class="i0">As with delight; but Guelpho spake again:—</div> - <div class="i0">"Yet, think not that I come to urge thy faults;</div> - <div class="i0">I did not come to curse thee, Goanveer:</div> - <div class="i0">The wrath which first I felt when thou brok'st down</div> - <div class="i0">Is past—it never will again return.</div> - <div class="i0">I came to take my last fond leave of thee,</div> - <div class="i0">For I shall ne'er run mare or horse again.</div> - <div class="i0">O silky mane, with which I used to play</div> - <div class="i0">At Hampton! O most perfect equine form,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> - <div class="i0">And points the like of which no mare yet had</div> - <div class="i0">Till thou was't bred! O fetlocks, neater far</div> - <div class="i0">Than many a woman's ankles! O grand hocks</div> - <div class="i0">That faltered feebly on that fatal day!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet, Goanveer, I bid thee now good-bye,</div> - <div class="i0">And leave thee, feeling yet a love for thee,</div> - <div class="i0">As one who first my racing instinct stirred,</div> - <div class="i0">As one who taught me to abjure the turf.</div> - <div class="i0">Hereafter we may meet—I cannot tell;</div> - <div class="i0">Thy future may be happy—so I wish.</div> - <div class="i0">But this I pray, on no account henceforth</div> - <div class="i0">Make mixture of your water—drink it neat;</div> - <div class="i0">I charge thee this. And now I must go hence;</div> - <div class="i0">Through the thick night I hear the whistle blow</div> - <div class="i0">That tells me that my 'special' waits to start.</div> - <div class="i0">Thou wilt stay here awhile, so be at rest;</div> - <div class="i0">But hither shall I never come again,</div> - <div class="i0">Or ever pat thy neck, or see thee more.</div> - <div class="i0">Good-bye!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>On the occasion of the arrival of the Princess -Alexandra from Denmark in March, 1863, -Tennyson wrote:—</p> - - -<h3>A W<span class="smcapa">ELCOME TO</span> A<span class="smcapa">LEXANDRA</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">S<span class="smcapa">EA</span>-K<span class="smcapa">INGS</span>' daughter from over the sea,</div> - <div class="i15">Alexandra!</div> - <div class="i0">Saxon and Norman and Dane are we,</div> - <div class="i0">But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee,</div> - <div class="i15">Alexandra!</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet!</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome her, thundering cheer of the street!</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome her, all things youthful and sweet!</div> - <div class="i0">Scatter the blossom under her feet!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For Saxon or Dane or Norman we,</div> - <div class="i0">Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be,</div> - <div class="i0">We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee,</div> - <div class="i15">Alexandra!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In 1869, Ismail Pasha, the Viceroy of Egypt, -visited this country, and the following kindly -welcome appeared in <em>The Tomahawk</em> of July 10, -1869:—</p> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">RITANNIA'S</span> W<span class="smcapa">ELCOME TO THE</span> I<span class="smcapa">LLUSTRIOUS</span> S<span class="smcapa">TRANGER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">P<span class="smcapa">LAGUE</span> of Egypt, from over the sea,</div> - <div class="i15">Ismail Pasha!</div> - <div class="i0">Viceroy, Khidevé, or whatever you be,</div> - <div class="i0">Jacksons, O'Tooles, and McStunners are we,</div> - <div class="i0">But all John Bulls in our welcome of thee,</div> - <div class="i15">Ismail Pasha!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Welcome him, blunder of escort and suite,</div> - <div class="i0">Mounted inspector, and mob in the street!</div> - <div class="i0">Call up the first cab his Highness to meet!</div> - <div class="i0">Throw his hat-box and Bradshaw and rug on the seat!</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome him! feast him with fourpenny treat,</div> - <div class="i0">One glass of old ale and a sandwich to eat!</div> - <div class="i0">Scatter, O Royalty, gold for his keep!</div> - <div class="i0">Dream, all ye tradesmen of harvests to reap!</div> - <div class="i0">The Palace is empty, our pockets are deep!</div> - <div class="i0">Fling wide, O menial, the grand back door!</div> - <div class="i0">Take him, O attic, and rock him to sleep!</div> - <div class="i0">Strew a <em>viceregal</em> shakedown on the floor!</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome him, welcome him, all that is cheap!</div> - <div class="i0">Sing, Prima Donna, and fashion stare!</div> - <div class="i0">Scrape up your regiments, weak and few,</div> - <div class="i0">Hurry, ye Commons, and all be there,</div> - <div class="i0">To swell the pomp of the grand review!</div> - <div class="i0">Chuckle, Britannia! a Sultan? pooh!</div> - <div class="i0">A nobody! don't we know who's who,</div> - <div class="i15">Ismail Pasha!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Seeking quarters for change of air,</div> - <div class="i0">Come to us, love us (but pay your fare)—</div> - <div class="i0">Guests such as you we are happy to see;</div> - <div class="i0">Come to us, love us, and have we not shown,</div> - <div class="i0">In breakfast, and luncheon, and dinner, and tea,</div> - <div class="i0">Kindness to strangers as great as your own?</div> - <div class="i0">For Jacksons, O'Tooles, and McStunners we,</div> - <div class="i0">Viceroy, Khidevé, or whatever you be,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet thorough John Bulls in our welcome of thee,</div> - <div class="i15">Ismail Pasha!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Shortly after the death of the late John Brown, -when it was announced that the Queen had had -a statue of him erected in the grounds at Balmoral, -it was also rumoured that Tennyson was -writing a poem in his honour. A jocular author -suggested that it might run as follows:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trash about bells and the merry March hare</div> - <div class="i1">Wrote I once at the royal summons.</div> - <div class="i1">More of us Danes than Antic Rum-uns!</div> - <div class="i0">No; let me see! I'll our welcome of thee,</div> - <div class="i15">Alexandra!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Have I gone mad, or taken a drappie?</div> - <div class="i1">Norman and Saxon and Dane a wee,</div> - <div class="i1">Just a wee drappie intil our ee,</div> - <div class="i0">My Indo-Teuton-Celtic chappie!</div> - <div class="i1">Norman and Saxon a wee are we,</div> - <div class="i1">But more of us rum-uns or Danes you see</div> - <div class="i1">Some of us Saxons, and all with a B</div> - <div class="i1">In our bonnets, or something that's stronger than tea;</div> - <div class="i1">And it's all as easy as A, B, C,</div> - <div class="i1">To the poet who sang like a swan up a tree,</div> - <div class="i15">Alexandra!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The promise of May" was a little bit late,</div> - <div class="i0">And a fox jumped over a parson's gate,</div> - <div class="i1">And he had my cochins, too, if you please,</div> - <div class="i1">With a cat to the cream, which was not the cheese;</div> - <div class="i0">And a guinea a line is about the rate</div> - <div class="i0">You must pay for what flows from the poet's pate</div> - <div class="i1">When the blue fire wakes up the whole of the town;</div> - <div class="i1">And I'm sure I don't know what to say about Brown.</div> - <div class="i0">But whatever I say and whatever I sing</div> - <div class="i0">Will be worth to an obolus what it will bring!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>The Referee</em>, September, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is generally admitted that Tennyson's more -recent official poetry has added little to his -fame, whilst it has often been mercilessly ridiculed, -and, of late, his adulatory poems, and -protestations of loyalty, have frequently been -ascribed to interested motives. As soon as it -was definitely announced that he was to be -<em>ennobled</em>, a genealogy was compiled tracing his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -descent from the kings who ruled in Britain -long before the Conquest. This grand claim -(which was quoted at page 28) has since been -rather spoilt by the plain statement that Alfred -Tennyson's grandfather was a country attorney, -practising in a small, quiet way in Market -Rasen, North Lincolnshire, who, having made -money in his business, retired, and bought some -land in the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>But for the title just conferred upon him, -Tennyson's birth and lineage would have been -matters of perfect indifference to his readers. -As for raising Tennyson to the peerage, no -writer seems seriously to have defended an act -which most people look upon as a mistake. -Not one parody in its favour has been written, -but many against it.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake and call me early, call me early, Vicky clear,</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrow will be the silliest day we've seen for many a year;</div> - <div class="i0">For I am a rhyming prig, Vicky, that shoddy and sham reveres,</div> - <div class="i0">So I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a crazy lyre, they say, but none so effete as mine;</div> - <div class="i0">It cannot ring out an ode to Brown, that gallant gilly of thine,</div> - <div class="i0">For there's none so inane as poor old Alf in his sad, declining years;</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sleep so sound all night, Vicky, that I shall never wake;</div> - <div class="i0">So come in the early morn, Vicky, and give me a slap and a shake;</div> - <div class="i0">For I must gather my scissors and paste and scraps of the bygone years,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came up the Row, Vicky, whom think you I should see?</div> - <div class="i0">Lord Queensberry against a lamp, and singing Tweedle-de-dee:</div> - <div class="i0">He thought of that vile play, Vicky, I wrote in bygone years;</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He thought I was a fool, Vicky, for I looked dazed and white;</div> - <div class="i0">He took me for a fool, Vicky—by jingo, he was right.</div> - <div class="i0">They call me Atheist-hater; but I care not for their jeers,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They say men write, and all for love; but this can never be:</div> - <div class="i0">They say that great men write and starve; but what is that to me?</div> - <div class="i0">For gold I sell my laughter, for gold I sell my tears,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I wrote my "In Memoriam" when I was young and green;</div> - <div class="i0">I wrote my "Promise of the May" when I was pumped out clean;</div> - <div class="i0">And I've been the Court's hired lackey for many cringing years;</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The spider in my mouldy brain has woven its web for hours</div> - <div class="i0">On the dull flats of Lincoln fens and withered hot-house flowers;</div> - <div class="i0">I feel the shortening of my wits and the lengthening of my ears,</div> - <div class="i0">So I'm to be one of the peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The night winds come and go, Vicky, upon the meadow grass;</div> - <div class="i0">There are guineas for the rhymster and thistles for the ass:</div> - <div class="i0">I have been your rhyming flunkey for over thirty years;</div> - <div class="i0">Now I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There will be poets after me, not fresh and green and still,</div> - <div class="i0">Who care less for a Prince's nod than for the People's will,</div> - <div class="i0">Not rhyming royal nuptials and singing royal biers;</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake and call me early, call me early, Vicky dear;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow will be the silliest day we've seen for many a year;</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm a lackey and prig, Vicky, that sham and shoddy reveres,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>The Secular Review</em>, December 29, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Of Tennyson's Patriotic Poems <em>The Charge of -the Light Brigade</em> has always been the most -popular, and has, consequently, been the most -frequently parodied. An excellent parody, taken -from <cite>Puck on Pegasus</cite>, was given on page 31; -the following are the most interesting examples -which remain to be quoted:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> I<span class="smcapa">NSTITUTION OF</span> M<span class="smcapa">ECHANICAL</span> E<span class="smcapa">NGINEERS</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>On Thursday, August 3, 1865, an excursion -was made by the Members of the Institution of -Mechanical Engineers of England, to the Dublin -Corporation Waterworks at the Stillorgan and -Roundwood Reservoirs. The members proceeded -from Bray through the Glen of the -Downs, along a portion of the line of pipes, and -at the Roundwood Reservoir they were handsomely -entertained by Sir John Gray, M.P., the -Chairman of the Waterworks Committee, and -by Mr. John Jameson, the Deputy-Chairman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p></blockquote> - -<p>The following parody appeared in a Dublin -newspaper a few days later. Dr. Waller, who is -mentioned in it, was then the Chairman of the -Connoree Copper and Sulphur Mines, in the -Vale of Avoca, which were also visited by the -party of Engineers:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> T<span class="smcapa">WO</span> H<span class="smcapa">UNDRED</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(After Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade.")</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Half-past nine, August three—</div> - <div class="i0">Half-past nine—onward!</div> - <div class="i0">Off to the Vartry Works</div> - <div class="i2">Went some two hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Off to the Vartry Works,</div> - <div class="i0">Where the good water lurks,</div> - <div class="i0">Down on the Wicklow line,</div> - <div class="i0">Thinking of how they'd dine;</div> - <div class="i1">'Toasting,' with best of wine,</div> - <div class="i0">Off—with the weather fine—</div> - <div class="i2">Went the two hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"'Forward!' said Sir John Gray,</div> - <div class="i0">On to the station, Bray,</div> - <div class="i0">There, there was some delay.</div> - <div class="i0">Some of the party said</div> - <div class="i2">'Waller has blundered.'</div> - <div class="i0">But they were wrong, to doubt—</div> - <div class="i0">Forty-three cars set out,</div> - <div class="i0">On from the station there,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the mountain air—</div> - <div class="i0">Through Wicklow's mountain air—</div> - <div class="i2">Drove the two hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Arrived at the Vartry stream,</div> - <div class="i0">Inspected each shaft and beam;</div> - <div class="i0">Saw how the men with spade</div> - <div class="i0">Embankments and <em>puddle</em> made:</div> - <div class="i0">Crowds there of every grade</div> - <div class="i2">Admired and wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Gray, like an engineer—</div> - <div class="i0">Explained what was strange or queer:</div> - <div class="i0">All the works, far and near,</div> - <div class="i2">He showed the two hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Then through the Vartry pipes</div> - <div class="i0">As niggers bend to stripes,</div> - <div class="i0">Right through these monster pipes.</div> - <div class="i2">Like string through a bodkin,</div> - <div class="i0">Sir John led a lot of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Making small shot of us;</div> - <div class="i0">The first man he caught of us</div> - <div class="i2">Was our <em>London Times</em>—Godkin.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Done with the Vartry Works,</div> - <div class="i0">Flashed all our knives and forks;</div> - <div class="i0">To work, like some 'hungry Turks,'</div> - <div class="i2">Went the two hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Soup, fish, meat, fowl, and ham,</div> - <div class="i0">Ice, jellies, pies, and jam;</div> - <div class="i0">At this wild mountain cram</div> - <div class="i2">All the guests wondered.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Champagne to the right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Champagne to the left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Champagne around them,</div> - <div class="i2">Popping and spurting.</div> - <div class="i0">Toasts then came from the chair,</div> - <div class="i0">Toasting the ladies fair,</div> - <div class="i0">But not a female there,</div> - <div class="i2">Therefore no flirting.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Good wine of every sort,</div> - <div class="i0">Speeches with joke and sport;</div> - <div class="i0">Then they went back again,</div> - <div class="i2">But not the two hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Some of them went astray</div> - <div class="i0">O'er hills and far away,</div> - <div class="i0">But, getting home next day,</div> - <div class="i2">Made up the two hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">"W. S."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This poem is signed with the initials W. S., -which probably stand for the name of the late -Mr. William Smith, a gentleman well-known -in Dublin literary circles, as the author of -many clever parodies which appeared over the -<em>nom de plume</em> of "Billy Scribble." Whether these -humorous poems have ever been published in a -collected form, I cannot say, and I should be -glad to receive any information about them.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">ALF</span> H<span class="smcapa">UNDRED</span>" (<span class="smcapa">OF</span> C<span class="smcapa">OALS</span>).</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A good way after A. Tennyson's "Six Hundred."</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Up the stairs, up the stairs,</div> - <div class="i1">Up the stairs, onward!</div> - <div class="i0">Joe took, all out of breath,</div> - <div class="i1">Coals, half a hundred!</div> - <div class="i0">Up he went, still as death,</div> - <div class="i1">Lest they had wonder'd</div> - <div class="i0">That I, with a cellar large,</div> - <div class="i3">Bought by the "Hundred!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Forward! the light evade;</div> - <div class="i0">Let 'em not know," I said;</div> - <div class="i0">"Glide up as still as death,</div> - <div class="i3">With the 'Half-hundred!'</div> - <div class="i0">Let them be gently laid!</div> - <div class="i0">No sound as by earthquake made</div> - <div class="i3">When the ground's sunder'd!</div> - <div class="i0">You here, if one should spy,</div> - <div class="i0">Wondering the reason why?</div> - <div class="i0">I with the shame should die!</div> - <div class="i0">So crawl up still as death,</div> - <div class="i3">With the 'Half-hundred!'"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A cat on the right of him!</div> - <div class="i0">Cat on the left of him!</div> - <div class="i0">Cat at the front of him!</div> - <div class="i3">What if he blunder'd?</div> - <div class="i0">Slipt his foot! clean he fell!</div> - <div class="i0">Came then a horrid yell!</div> - <div class="i0">Joe look'd as pale as death,</div> - <div class="i0">As down they came <em>pell mell</em>,</div> - <div class="i3">All the "Half-hundred!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Out popt the "party" there!</div> - <div class="i0">Wondering what meant that <em>ere</em></div> - <div class="i0">Noise on the landing stair!</div> - <div class="i3">All stood and wonder'd!</div> - <div class="i0">Dust-clouds of coal and coke!</div> - <div class="i0">Made them all nearly choke!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! such a dreadful smoke!</div> - <div class="i3">As from the second floor</div> - <div class="i3">Rolled the "Half-hundred!"</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Voices at right of him!</div> - <div class="i0">Voices at left of him!</div> - <div class="i0">Voices behind him!</div> - <div class="i3">Question'd and thunder'd!</div> - <div class="i0">Shrunk I into my shell;</div> - <div class="i0">Ah! how my grandeur fell!</div> - <div class="i0">Knowing that (thought a "swell")</div> - <div class="i0">I was thus found to buy</div> - <div class="i3">Coals by the "Hundred!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How does one's glory fade,</div> - <div class="i0">When there an end is made</div> - <div class="i3">At what the world wonder'd?</div> - <div class="i0">Ne'er from my mind will fade</div> - <div class="i0">That awkward mess we made,</div> - <div class="i3">Of the "Half-hundred!"</div> - <div class="i10">J<span class="smcapa">AMES</span> B<span class="smcapa">RUTON</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>(From the Stratford-on-Avon Herald.)</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following clever parody was given to me, -about ten years ago, by a young Scotch friend, -who has since gone to New Zealand. I have -no clue to the <em>year</em> in which it was written (the -day of the month, however, was carefully preserved), -nor do I know by <em>whom</em> it was written, -nor where it made its first appearance in public. -Will any kind correspondent furnish me with -information on these points?</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">OCTOR'S</span> H<span class="smcapa">EAVY</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"They would scarcely believe him when he told them -that when in Thurso, some time ago, he on one occasion saw -six hundred people asleep in a church." Speech of Dr. -Guthrie, October 26th.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">O'er their devoted heads,</div> - <div class="i3">While the law thunder'd,</div> - <div class="i2">Snugly and heedlessly</div> - <div class="i3">Snored the Six Hundred!</div> - <div class="i0">Great was the preacher's theme;</div> - <div class="i0">Screw'd on was all the steam;</div> - <div class="i0">Neither with shout nor scream</div> - <div class="i0">Could he disturb the dream</div> - <div class="i3">Of the Six Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Terrors to right of them!</div> - <div class="i0">Terrors to left of them!</div> - <div class="i0">Terrors in front of them!</div> - <div class="i3">Hell itself plundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Of its most awful things,</div> - <div class="i0">All those unlawful things.</div> - <div class="i0">Weak-minded preacher flings</div> - <div class="i3">At the dumb-founder'd!</div> - <div class="i0"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Bold y'">Boldly</ins> he spoke, and well,</div> - <div class="i0">All on deaf ears it fell,</div> - <div class="i0">Vain was his loudest yell</div> - <div class="i1">Volley'd and thundered;</div> - <div class="i0">For, caring—the truth to tell,</div> - <div class="i0">Neither for Heaven nor Hell,</div> - <div class="i3">Snor'd the Six Hundred;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Still, with redoubled zeal,</div> - <div class="i1">Still he spoke onward,</div> - <div class="i0">And, in a wild appeal,</div> - <div class="i0">Striking with hand and heel,</div> - <div class="i0">Making the pulpit reel,</div> - <div class="i3">Shaken and sundered—</div> - <div class="i0">Called them the Church's foes,</div> - <div class="i0">Threatened with endless woes,</div> - <div class="i0">Faintly the answer rose,</div> - <div class="i0">(Proofs of their sweet repose),</div> - <div class="i0">From the United Nose</div> - <div class="i3">Of the Six Hundred!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>L'E<span class="smcapa">NVOY.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sermons of near an hour,</div> - <div class="i0">Too much for human power;</div> - <div class="i0">Prayers, too, made to match</div> - <div class="i0">(Extemporaneous batch,</div> - <div class="i3">Wofully blundered).</div> - <div class="i0">With a service of music,</div> - <div class="i0">Fit to turn every pew sick,</div> - <div class="i1">Should it be wondered?</div> - <div class="i0">Churches that will not move</div> - <div class="i0">Out of the ancient groove</div> - <div class="i1">Through which they floundered.</div> - <div class="i0">If they will lag behind,</div> - <div class="i0">Still must expect to find</div> - <div class="i0">Hearers of such a kind</div> - <div class="i3">As the Six Hundred!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> B<span class="smcapa">LACK</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE</span>.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Half a day, half a day,</div> - <div class="i1">Sped the clocks onward,</div> - <div class="i0">While in Freemason's Hall</div> - <div class="i1">Roared the six hundred!—</div> - <div class="i0">Frantic the Black Brigade,</div> - <div class="i0">"Charge for the Church!" they said,</div> - <div class="i0">In the Freemason's Hall</div> - <div class="i3">Roared the six hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Frantic the Black Brigade,</div> - <div class="i0">Fearful the row they made,</div> - <div class="i1">Some day they'll know too well</div> - <div class="i3">How they have blundered.</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs not to hear reply,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs throat and lungs to try,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs to bawl "Low" and "High,"</div> - <div class="i1">Round the Archbishop's chair</div> - <div class="i3">Roared the seven hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Canons to right of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Canons to left of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Canons in front of him,</div> - <div class="i3">Shouted and thundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Stormed at with groan and yell,</div> - <div class="i0">Really they stood it well,</div> - <div class="i1">Till they were out of breath,</div> - <div class="i0">Till an Earl tried to quell</div> - <div class="i3">Howls by the hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flustered the laymen's hair;</div> - <div class="i0">Flushed all the clergy were;</div> - <div class="i0">Scaring the waiters there</div> - <div class="i1">Hooting and hissing, while</div> - <div class="i3">York's prelate wondered—</div> - <div class="i0">Guides of us sinner folk</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Precept and law they broke,</div> - <div class="i0">Curate and rector spoke,</div> - <div class="i0">Dealing the Church a stroke</div> - <div class="i3">Shaken and sundered—</div> - <div class="i0">Then they divided, and</div> - <div class="i3">Lost the six hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Clergy to right of chair,</div> - <div class="i0">Clergy to left of chair,</div> - <div class="i0">Clergy in front of chair,</div> - <div class="i3">Shouted and thundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Stamping, with groan and yell,</div> - <div class="i0">Past any power to quell,</div> - <div class="i0">They who had roared so well</div> - <div class="i1">Went blessed, and out of breath,</div> - <div class="i0">Back to their flocks to tell</div> - <div class="i1">All that was done by them—</div> - <div class="i3">Nice fourteen hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When will the scandal fade</div> - <div class="i0">Of the wild row they made?</div> - <div class="i3">All the world wondered</div> - <div class="i0">Why such a noise was made</div> - <div class="i0">All by the Church Brigade—</div> - <div class="i3">Blind fourteen hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, 1868.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A<span class="smcapa">T THE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AGDALEN</span> G<span class="smcapa">ROUND</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Ecce canit formas alius jactusque pilarum.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><span class="fone">I.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">D<span class="smcapa">RIVE</span> to the Magdalen Ground;</div> - <div class="i0">Soon myself there I found,</div> - <div class="i0">Balls flew, and ground boys</div> - <div class="i2">After them blundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs not at ease to lie,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs but to field, and shy</div> - <div class="i0">Balls up and mind their eye;</div> - <div class="i0">If they were out of breath,</div> - <div class="i2">Who could have wondered?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><span class="fone">II.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Balls to the right of me!</div> - <div class="i0">Balls to the left of me!</div> - <div class="i0">Balls, too, in front of me!</div> - <div class="i2">Nearly a hundred!</div> - <div class="i0">There stood each cricket swell,</div> - <div class="i0">Some of them batted well,</div> - <div class="i0">Smacking the balls about;</div> - <div class="i0">Seldom their wickets fell;</div> - <div class="i2">I stood and wondered!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><span class="fone">III.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thirsty, with elbows bare,</div> - <div class="i0">Bowlers were bowling there;</div> - <div class="i0">Cricket-balls through the air</div> - <div class="i0">Whizzed past their heads the while.</div> - <div class="i2">Muchly I wondered</div> - <div class="i0">Why no one's head was broke,</div> - <div class="i0">For at each mighty stroke</div> - <div class="i0">Close past the legs or head</div> - <div class="i0">Of some unconscious bloke,</div> - <div class="i2">Fast the balls thundered;</div> - <div class="i0">Which, had they hit him, would</div> - <div class="i2">Limbs have near sundered!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><span class="fone">IV.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Balls to the right of me!</div> - <div class="i0">Balls to the left of me!</div> - <div class="i0">Balls, too, behind me!</div> - <div class="i2">Bounded and thundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Then came a sudden thwack,</div> - <div class="i0">Right on my poor old back,</div> - <div class="i0">Earthward I tumbled smack,</div> - <div class="i0">Knocked out was all my breath</div> - <div class="i0">With this untimely crack;</div> - <div class="i0">Whether my bones were smashed,</div> - <div class="i2">I lay and wondered.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ne'er will the memory fade</div> - <div class="i0">Of the large bruise it made,</div> - <div class="i2">Not if six hundred</div> - <div class="i0">Years on this earth I stayed.</div> - <div class="i0">Why cricket's ever played,</div> - <div class="i2">Often I've wondered!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>Lays of Modern Oxford, 1874</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The following is a fair specimen of the Puff -Poetical, taken from the <em>Daily News</em> of January, -1878:—</p> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">AIR</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>With the Junior Partner's Apologies to Mr, Tennyson.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Half a league, half a league,</div> - <div class="i1">Half a league onward,</div> - <div class="i0">All on the underground line</div> - <div class="i1">Rode the six hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Right! cried the guard of the train;</div> - <div class="i0">Right! for the Sale, he said,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the Terminus then</div> - <div class="i1">Glide the six hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Forward the bright brigade!</div> - <div class="i0">Was there a heart dismayed,</div> - <div class="i0">Not tho' it seemed too true</div> - <div class="i1">Someone had fainted.</div> - <div class="i0">Their's not to call a fly,</div> - <div class="i0">Aldgate, the station nigh;</div> - <div class="i0">Their's but to try and buy,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the premises</div> - <div class="i1">Came the six hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Counters to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Counters to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Counters in front of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Dighted and lumbered;</div> - <div class="i0">Greeted with chair and grace</div> - <div class="i0">Boldly they entered apace,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the matter fain,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the "Sale" amain</div> - <div class="i1">Went the six hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flash'd all their note-books fair,</div> - <div class="i0">Flash'd all the pencils there,</div> - <div class="i0">Noting with all due care.</div> - <div class="i0">Purchases rich and rare,</div> - <div class="i1">All the world wondered;</div> - <div class="i0">Plunged in the "Hibernum Sale,"</div> - <div class="i0">Pleased with each neat detail;</div> - <div class="i0">Silken and Linen</div> - <div class="i0">Metre and yard-stick fail</div> - <div class="i1">Almost to measure.</div> - <div class="i0">Then they hark back, but not—</div> - <div class="i0">Not unencumbered.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Counters to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Counters to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Counters behind them</div> - <div class="i1">Piled up with wonders;</div> - <div class="i0">Offered some bargains rare,</div> - <div class="i0">Mute with a great despair</div> - <div class="i0">They that had bought so well</div> - <div class="i0">Came from the "Tempus" Sale</div> - <div class="i0">Tired and deadly pale,</div> - <div class="i1">Weary six hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When can their gladness fade?</div> - <div class="i0">O! the good time they had!</div> - <div class="i1">All the world wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Honour the "parcels made;"</div> - <div class="i0">Honour the Drapers' Trade,</div> - <div class="i1">Noble six hundred.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> "B<span class="smcapa">USTLE</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">F<span class="smcapa">ORWARD</span> the Big Bustle!</div> - <div class="i0">Down the long street rustle,</div> - <div class="i0">Sweeping the street Arab</div> - <div class="i1">Into the gutter;</div> - <div class="i0">Swells to the right of it,</div> - <div class="i0">Swells to the left of it.</div> - <div class="i0">Cane, stick, and eyeglass,</div> - <div class="i1">All in a flutter!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Loud cries the errand-boy,</div> - <div class="i0">"Big Bustle there, ahoy!"</div> - <div class="i0">And the respectable</div> - <div class="i1">Citizens stare—</div> - <div class="i0">Reckless of every one,</div> - <div class="i0">On goes the "haughty one,"</div> - <div class="i0">Sweeping past houses,</div> - <div class="i1">Terrace and square.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But look, the low'ring sky</div> - <div class="i0">Portends a storm is nigh;</div> - <div class="i0">While men on all sides</div> - <div class="i1">Gallantly throng;</div> - <div class="i0">Swells to the right of it,</div> - <div class="i0">Swells to the left of it,</div> - <div class="i1">Blue Bustle charges,</div> - <div class="i0">Sweeping along.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ah, 'tis a rainy day!</div> - <div class="i0">Streams flood the muddy way,</div> - <div class="i0">And the fair ornament</div> - <div class="i1">Cheeky cads hustle;</div> - <div class="i0">Homeward it now retreats,</div> - <div class="i1">Flies from the crowded streets,</div> - <div class="i0">Safe at last! ah, but not—</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Not the same Bustle!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Judy</em>, 17th April 1872.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">UR</span> B<span class="smcapa">OYS</span>.</h3> - -<p>On the occasion of the Six Hundredth performance -of this most successful comedy at the -Vaudeville Theatre, the following verses were -composed:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Keep the league! keep the league,</div> - <div class="i1">Keep our league onward!</div> - <div class="i0">We twain have "run" a piece</div> - <div class="i1">Nights now Six Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Though but a light brigade,</div> - <div class="i0">Not such "great guns" 'tis said.</div> - <div class="i0">Yet we a play have played</div> - <div class="i1">Nights full Six Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Here's your piece," Byron said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Take it friends, undismayed,"</div> - <div class="i0">So we did, for we knew</div> - <div class="i1">Seldom he's blundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Ours not to talk, but buy,</div> - <div class="i0">Ours but to act (or try!)</div> - <div class="i0">How fared the Comedy!</div> - <div class="i1">Into two years we've run,</div> - <div class="i2">Nights now Six Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Prophets to right of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Prophets to left of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Prophets in front of us,</div> - <div class="i1">Volleyed and thundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Wiseacre shot and shell,</div> - <div class="i1">"May, for a time, do well!"</div> - <div class="i0">Ne'er, in their jaws (so right!)</div> - <div class="i0">Ne'er in their mouths that night</div> - <div class="i1">Boded Six Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Flashy! a thing of air!</div> - <div class="i0">Flashy! but very fair!"</div> - <div class="i0">So said these wonders there,</div> - <div class="i0">Stage-wise alarmists! while</div> - <div class="i1">All who of fun'd heard,</div> - <div class="i0">Crushed in the groaning pit.</div> - <div class="i0">Fought thro', fought bit by bit!</div> - <div class="i1">Coster and Nobleman</div> - <div class="i0">Laughed at the same old hit,</div> - <div class="i1">Laughed at, and wondered,</div> - <div class="i0">Thought of that night, but not</div> - <div class="i1">Dreamed of Six Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dresses wore spite of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Scenes waned each night of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Stitches made light of us,</div> - <div class="i1">Severed and sundered;</div> - <div class="i0">Summers on "houses" tell,</div> - <div class="i0">"Business," tho', never fell,</div> - <div class="i0">Everything turned out well,</div> - <div class="i0">So, we are playing still,</div> - <div class="i0">Playing each night with will,</div> - <div class="i1">All that is left of us</div> - <div class="i2">After Six Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When shall this fortune fade?</div> - <div class="i0">No increased charge we've made</div> - <div class="i1">(Herein we blundered!)</div> - <div class="i0">Thanks to all, true as steel!</div> - <div class="i0">Thanks to the Public, we'll</div> - <div class="i1">Double Six Hundred.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>These stanzas, which bore the signature of -Mr. Robert Reece, were circulated among the -audience, but were not spoken from the stage.</p> - -<p>The extraordinary run of <em>Our Boys</em>, which -closed in April, 1879, will long excite the -curiosity and wonder of the theatrical world. -Mr. Byron's comedy was produced January 16, -1875, and was played continuously for four years -three months and three days. This would allow -about 1,321 nights, but extra day representations -have raised the total number of performances to -1,362. Besides this return the "long runs" of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -previous days were completely dwarfed. When -<em>Our American Cousin</em> was brought out at the -Haymarket it ran for 496 nights, and the <em>Colleen -Bawn</em> went 278; <em>Meg's Diversion</em>, 330; and -<em>School</em> 381 nights respectively.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<em>Apropos</em> of the vote for six millions," said <em>The Globe</em>, -"Mr. Gladstone, in his speech, protested against many -of the attacks which had been levelled at him during the -debate, and he threatened Mr. Chaplin in particular with -his vengeance upon some future occasion, and he quoted, -amid the laughter of the House, some doggerel verses which -had been sent to him in reference to the vote." These lines, -parodying 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,' ran thus:—</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">"Ring out your battle cry—</div> - <div class="i2">Vote us our war supply,</div> - <div class="i2">This must we do or die—</div> - <div class="i3">Vote the six millions.</div> - <div class="i2">Theirs not to reason why,</div> - <div class="i2">Ours not to make reply,</div> - <div class="i2">Ours but to say 'You lie'—</div> - <div class="i3">Vote the six millions."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> "R<span class="smcapa">AD.</span>" B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(After Mr. Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade".)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">By the League, by the League, by the League onward,</div> - <div class="i1">Into the Commons' House went the three hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Forward the "Rad." Brigade! "Pass this Bill quick!" he said.</div> - <div class="i1">Into the Commons' House went the three hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Forward the "Rad." Brigade! Who is a whit afraid?</div> - <div class="i1">What tho' the Tories say we have all blundered?</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs but to moan and cry—let Jemmy Lowther sigh, and ask Sir Stafford "Why?"</div> - <div class="i1">Into the Commons' House went the three hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Leaguers to right of them, Whiggites to left of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Tories in front of them, shouted and thundered.</div> - <div class="i0">Stormed at with hoot and yell, while weak-kneed Lib'rals fell,</div> - <div class="i1">Into the lobby drear, into the House pell-mell, rushed the three hundred;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flashed all their tongues quite bare, each one his speech to air,</div> - <div class="i1">Crushing the Leaguers there, dishing the Tories while Salisbury wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Plunged in the hot debate, those who the rules had broke—</div> - <div class="i1">Parnell and Dillon—reeled from brave Gladstone's stroke shattered and sundered;</div> - <div class="i1">Then they went out, but not—not the three hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Leaguers to right of them, Whigs on the left of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Tories behind them, stamped, roared, and thundered,</div> - <div class="i0">Stormed at with hoot and yell, while many a weak one fell,</div> - <div class="i0">They that had voted well came from the lobby back, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'baek'">back</ins> to the House pell-mell—</div> - <div class="i1">All that was left of the happy three hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When will they e'er be paid? Oh, the grand vote they gave!</div> - <div class="i1">Salisbury wondered!</div> - <div class="i0">Honour the vote they gave! Long live the "Rad." Brigade!</div> - <div class="i1">Gladstone's three hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">25th June, 1882. <span class="mleft6"> </span>J. A<span class="smcapa">RTHUR</span> E<span class="smcapa">LLIOTT.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A L<span class="smcapa">AY OF THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AW</span> C<span class="smcapa">OURTS</span>.</h3> - -<p>Being the experience of Officials, Counsel, Clients, Witnesses, -and all who do their business in the Great Legal -Maze. With apologies to the Poet Laureate.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Up the stairs, down the stairs,</div> - <div class="i0">Farther and farther yet;</div> - <div class="i0">Here we come out of breath,</div> - <div class="i2">Flustered and sundered.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Barriers to right of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Barriers to left of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Barriers in front of us!</div> - <div class="i2">Bad words we thundered.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Most doors are barred and locked,</div> - <div class="i0">All sense of safety shocked;</div> - <div class="i0">Why is our business blocked</div> - <div class="i2">By those who blundered?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Back to the charge we're led;</div> - <div class="i0">Corridors dark we tread;</div> - <div class="i0">Had we gone heels o'er head</div> - <div class="i2">Who could have wondered?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No friend to say "Beware!"</div> - <div class="i0">No warning, "Pray, take care!"</div> - <div class="i0">Each step another snare!</div> - <div class="i2">If one, there's five hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ours not to make reply;</div> - <div class="i0">Ours not to reason why;</div> - <div class="i0">Still we may raise the cry,</div> - <div class="i2">Some one has blundered!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Funny Folks</em>, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">ATEST</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote><p>[At a meeting in Ireland recently, when Mr. Biggar got -up to speak, six hundred ladies rose and quitted the room.]</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">On their legs, on their legs,</div> - <div class="i1">On their legs onward,</div> - <div class="i0">All with face pale as death</div> - <div class="i1">Rose the Six hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">How dare he show his head?</div> - <div class="i1">"Rush from the wretch!" they said.</div> - <div class="i0">Straight to the street beneath</div> - <div class="i3">Strode the Six Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Forward the fair brigade,</div> - <div class="i0">No woman there dismayed.</div> - <div class="i0">Not though each fair one knew</div> - <div class="i1">Biggar had blundered.</div> - <div class="i0">His not to reason why,</div> - <div class="i0">His not to make reply,</div> - <div class="i0">Best take his hat and fly,</div> - <div class="i0">When with rage out of breath</div> - <div class="i3">Rushed the Six Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Married to right of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Single to left of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Widows in front of him</div> - <div class="i1">Volleyed and thundered.</div> - <div class="i0">No storm of shot and shell</div> - <div class="i0">E'er silenced man so well.</div> - <div class="i0">Joe! ne'er his tale shall tell</div> - <div class="i0">When near an Irish belle—</div> - <div class="i3">Noble Six Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Funny Folks</em>, January 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> - -<p><em>The Nineteenth Century</em>, March 1878, contained -a poem entitled—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">EVENGE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Ballad of the Fleet.</em></p> - -<p class="center">I.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At F<span class="smcapa">LORES</span>, in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay,</div> - <div class="i0">And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:</div> - <div class="i0">"Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!"</div> - <div class="i0">Then sware Lord Thomas Howard; "'Fore God I am no coward;</div> - <div class="i0">But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,</div> - <div class="i0">And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.</div> - <div class="i0">We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The rugged metre, and the exaggerated -national sentiment of this ballad were thus -amusingly parodied:—</p> - - -<h3>R<span class="smcapa">ETRIBUTION</span>—A XIX<span class="smcapa">TH</span> C<span class="smcapa">ENTURY</span> B<span class="smcapa">ALLAD OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">LOE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>By the Author of "Vengeance, a Ballad of the Fleet."</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A<span class="smcapa">T</span> his chambers in the Albany Sir Richard Tankard lay,</div> - <div class="i0">And a missive, like brown buttered toast, was brought him on a tray;</div> - <div class="i0">"Come, drink my Spanish wine—fifty dozen, all is thine,</div> - <div class="i0">And bring your friends with you, we'll drink till all is blue."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then sware Lord Thomas Drunker: "By jingo, I'm no funker;</div> - <div class="i0">But I cannot go, I fear, for my liver's out of gear,</div> - <div class="i0">And my head feels like to burst, and I only slake my thirst</div> - <div class="i0">With Apollinaris water, for I dare not touch port wine."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then spake Sir Richard Tankard, "I know you are no funker,</div> - <div class="i0">And fly wine for a moment to return to it again,</div> - <div class="i0">But my liver and my brain are free from ache and pain.</div> - <div class="i0">I should count myself the funker if I left them, my Lord Drunker,</div> - <div class="i0">Unsatisfied, and craving for the purple wine of Spain."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He called his friends together to go with him and dine.</div> - <div class="i0">He told them of the telegram that told him of the wine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">"We will go for we are dry;</div> - <div class="i8">Good Sir Richard, we are thine,</div> - <div class="i8">And the vintage we will try.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If good there will be little left ere morrow's sun be set!"</div> - <div class="i0">And Sir Richard said again, "We be all good Englishmen;</div> - <div class="i0">Let us empty all the bottles down our sturdy British throttles,</div> - <div class="i0">For I never turned my back upon glass or bottle yet."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roared a hurrah, and so,</div> - <div class="i0">Like true-born sturdy Englishmen, we all of us would go.</div> - <div class="i0">And found the wine all laid along the floor in many a row,</div> - <div class="i0">And half was laid on the right-hand side, and half on the left was seen,</div> - <div class="i0">And the table, like the white sea foam, ran down the room between.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The dim eyes of the waiters winked with an inward laugh;</div> - <div class="i0">They seemed to mock the notion that we the wine would quaff.</div> - <div class="i0">But as the night was waning they watched the rows grow small,</div> - <div class="i0">And whispered to each other, "I bet they'll drink it all!"</div> - <div class="i0">For the wine was flowing swiftly down, as a cataract might be</div> - <div class="i5">When it leaps from a mountain to the sea!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the moon went down and the stars came out o'er the smoky London town;</div> - <div class="i0">And never a moment ceased the flow of the purple liquor down!</div> - <div class="i0">Glass after glass, the whole night long, the mighty magnums went,</div> - <div class="i0">And bottle after bottle was away from the table sent.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Dead men," as in a battle field, lay strewn upon the floor,</div> - <div class="i0">But still there was no cry of "Hold!" but constant shouts for "more!"</div> - <div class="i8">For he said, "Drink on, drink on!"</div> - <div class="i8">Though he scarce could lift his hand.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And it chanced when more than half of the summer night was gone</div> - <div class="i0">That he rose up on his feet and tried to stand,</div> - <div class="i0">But he sunk into his chair, and lay back grinning there,</div> - <div class="i8">And close up to his side we stept,</div> - <div class="i0">Then—the rule in such a case—we cork'd him on the face,</div> - <div class="i5">And he fell upon the floor, and he slept.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So pass'd we all, and when we woke each knew of a heavy head,</div> - <div class="i0">For not a soul of all of us had found the way to bed!</div> - <div class="i0">And a tempest of indignation swept over our surging brains,</div> - <div class="i0">That we could be floored by vintage, ay, ev'n of a hundred Spains!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"It never was <span class="smcapa">PORT</span>"! we cried, and so we tasted it once again—'twas <span class="smcapa">SLOE</span>!</div> - <div class="i0">Vile <span class="smcapa">SLOE</span>, with all our might, we had drunk for half the night!</div> - <div class="i0">And brave Sir Richard Tankard said, "Boys, although we drank hard,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis <span class="smcapa">SLOE-JUICE</span>, and not Spanish wine, is giving us such pains!"</div> - <div class="i0">Then in a sink, that day, we poured the rest away,</div> - <div class="i5">To be lost evermore in the drains.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>On the 15th March, 1882, at one of the -London Ballad Concerts, Mr. Santley sang, for -the first time, a patriotic song, written by -Alfred Tennyson, the music composed by Mr. -C. V. Stanford. This song was announced with -much ceremony as a new work, whereas it was -simply an abbreviated, and somewhat modified, -arrangement of a poem in five verses, entitled -<em>Hands all Round</em>, which had appeared in the -<em>Examiner</em> in 1852, over the signature <em>Merlin</em>. -The song did not arouse any enthusiasm, and is -now only memorable for the offence its chorus -gave to the temperance party. The first verse -is quoted to illustrate the parodies:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"First pledge our Queen, my friends, and then</div> - <div class="i1">A health to England, every guest;</div> - <div class="i0">He best will serve the race of men</div> - <div class="i1">Who loves his native country best!</div> - <div class="i0">May freedom's oak for ever last,</div> - <div class="i1">With larger life from day to day;</div> - <div class="i0">He loves the present and the past</div> - <div class="i1">Who lops the moulder'd branch away.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Hands all round! God the traitor's hope confound!</div> - <div class="i1">To the great cause of Freedom, drink my friends,</div> - <div class="i0">And the great name of England round and round."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>On this poem getting into the papers, the -Good Templars attached far too much importance -to it, and wrote to remonstrate with the -Poet Laureate. The following reply was sent -to Mr. Malins, the Chief Templar:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"86, Eaton-square, London,—Sir,—My father begs to -thank the Committee of the Executive of the Grand Lodge -of England Good Templars for their resolution. No one -honours more highly the good work done by them than my -father. I must, however, ask you to remember that the -common cup has in all ages been employed as a sacred -symbol of unity, and that my father has only used the word -'drink' in reference to this symbol. I much regret that it -should have been otherwise understood.—Faithfully yours,<br /> -H<span class="smcapa">ALLAM</span> T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span>."</p></blockquote> - -<p>The following parody, adverting to this correspondence, -appeared in <em>Punch</em>, April 1, 1882:—</p> - - -<h3>SLOPS ALL ROUND!</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Tennyson Teetotalised.</em></p> - -<blockquote><p>[The Manchester Good Templars having expostulated with -the Poet Laureate for countenancing "in his latest so-called -patriotic song, <em>Hands all Round</em>," the heathen and intoxicating -custom of drinking toasts (in anything stronger than -toast and water) it is understood that the conscience-stricken -Bard has prepared the following "revised version" for the -special use of the I. O. G. T's.]</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">F<span class="smcapa">IRST</span> pledge the Alliance, friends, and then</div> - <div class="i1">A health to W<span class="smcapa">ILFRID</span>, champion dear!</div> - <div class="i0">He honours best that best of men</div> - <div class="i1">Who drinks his health in ginger-beer.</div> - <div class="i0">May L<span class="smcapa">AWSON'S</span> jokes for ever live,</div> - <div class="i1">With washier shine from day to day,</div> - <div class="i0">He's Freedom true Conservative,</div> - <div class="i1">Who Zoedone imbibes alway.</div> - <div class="i7">Slops all round!</div> - <div class="i0">Heaven the Wittler's hopes confound!</div> - <div class="i1">To the great cause Teetotal, swig my friends,</div> - <div class="i0">And the great name of L<span class="smcapa">AWSON</span> round and round!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To Local Optionists who long</div> - <div class="i1">To hold the land in leading-strings,</div> - <div class="i0">By boldly banning liquors strong,</div> - <div class="i1">For lemonade and such sweet things.</div> - <div class="i0">To all who 'neath our watery skies,</div> - <div class="i1">Would English wits with water whelm,</div> - <div class="i0">To Toastandwaterdom's swift rise,</div> - <div class="i1">Till the Good Templar rules the realm,</div> - <div class="i7">Slops all round!</div> - <div class="i0">Heaven the Wittler's hopes confound!</div> - <div class="i1">To the great cause Teetotal swig, my friends,</div> - <div class="i0">And the great name of L<span class="smcapa">AWSON</span> round and round!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To all our Statesmen, so they be</div> - <div class="i1">Forwarders of our League's desire,</div> - <div class="i0">To both our Houses, if with glee</div> - <div class="i1">They'll quench, in water, Freedom's fire,</div> - <div class="i0">What odds though Freedom's flag <em>should</em> sink,</div> - <div class="i1">Whilst high the Temperance banner waves?</div> - <div class="i0">Shall Britons bondsmen be to Drink</div> - <div class="i1">Through fear of being Slopdom's slaves?</div> - <div class="i7">Slops all round!</div> - <div class="i0">Heaven the Wittlers' hopes confound!</div> - <div class="i1">To the great cause Teetotal swig, my friends,</div> - <div class="i0">And the great name of L<span class="smcapa">AWSON</span> round and round!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>D<span class="smcapa">RINKS ALL</span> R<span class="smcapa">OUND</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote><p>(Being an attempt to arrange Mr. Tennyson's noble -words for truly Patriotic, Protectionist, and Anti-Aboriginal -Circles):—</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">A health to Jingo first, and then</div> - <div class="i4">A health to shell, a health to shot!</div> - <div class="i3">The man who hates not other men</div> - <div class="i4">I deem no perfect patriot!</div> - <div class="i3">To all who hold all England mad</div> - <div class="i4">We drink; to all who'd tax her food!</div> - <div class="i3">We pledge the man who hates the Rad!</div> - <div class="i4">We drink to Bartle Frere and Froude!</div> - <div class="i0">Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned!</div> - <div class="i1">To the great cause of Jingo drink, my boys,</div> - <div class="i0">And the great name of Jingo round and round!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">To all the Companies that long</div> - <div class="i4">To rob as folk robbed years ago;</div> - <div class="i3">To all that wield the double thong,</div> - <div class="i4">From Queensland round to Borneo!</div> - <div class="i3">To all that, under Indian skies,</div> - <div class="i4">Call Aryan man "a blasted nigger;"</div> - <div class="i3">To all rapacious enterprise;</div> - <div class="i4">To rigour everywhere, and vigour!—</div> - <div class="i0">Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned!</div> - <div class="i1">To the great name of Jingo drink, my boys,</div> - <div class="i0">And every filibuster round and round!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">To all our statesmen, while they see</div> - <div class="i4">An outlet new for British trade,</div> - <div class="i3">Where British fabrics still may be</div> - <div class="i4">With British size all overweighed!</div> - <div class="i3">Wherever gin and guns are sold</div> - <div class="i4">We've scooped the artless nigger in;</div> - <div class="i3">Where men give ivory and gold,</div> - <div class="i4">We give them measles, tracts, and gin!</div> - <div class="i0">Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned!</div> - <div class="i1">To the great name of Jingo drink, my boys,</div> - <div class="i1">And to Adulteration, round and round.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>The Daily News</em>, March 17, 1882.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AUREATE'S</span> L<span class="smcapa">AST</span> L<span class="smcapa">YRIC</span>; <span class="smcapa">OR</span>, N<span class="smcapa">ORTHAMPTON</span>' F<span class="smcapa">REEMEN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">Come! pledge Northampton, friends, and then</div> - <div class="i4">A health to Freemen's every guest;</div> - <div class="i3">He best will serve the race of men</div> - <div class="i4">Who loves his country's freedom best!</div> - <div class="i3">May Freedom's reign for ever last,</div> - <div class="i4">With wider bounds from day to day;</div> - <div class="i3">He loves the present, not the past,</div> - <div class="i4">Who breaks the tyrant's chain away!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">HORUS</span>—Hands all round! All despotic laws confound!</div> - <div class="i5">Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends,</div> - <div class="i4">The hope of Britain round and sound!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> - <div class="i3">To all the British hearts, who long</div> - <div class="i4">Will keep their heart of freedom whole—</div> - <div class="i3">To all our noble sons, the strong</div> - <div class="i4">Of British birth—the men of soul</div> - <div class="i3">Who rise against coercive wrong,</div> - <div class="i4">That drags "suspects" untried to gaol,</div> - <div class="i3">While starving thousands in the realm.</div> - <div class="i4">Oh! burst the prison of the "Pale."</div> - <div class="i4">Whatever statesman holds the helm.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">HORUS</span>—Hands all round! All despotic laws confound!</div> - <div class="i5">Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends,</div> - <div class="i4">The hope of Britain round and sound!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">To all our statesmen who for Right,</div> - <div class="i4">Are leaders at the land's desire;</div> - <div class="i3">Nor bend nor aid the force of Might,</div> - <div class="i4">That gags free speech to quench the fire</div> - <div class="i3">That burns to make the people great,</div> - <div class="i4">In thought and deed on every hand.</div> - <div class="i3">We freedom gave the mighty State,</div> - <div class="i4">But lack it in our native land!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">HORUS</span>—Hands all round! All despotic laws confound!</div> - <div class="i5">Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends,</div> - <div class="i4">The hope of Britain round and sound!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">June 1882. <span class="mleft10"> </span>E. T. C<span class="smcapa">RAIG</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Tennyson's blank verse has seldom been more -successfully imitated than in <em>The Very Last Idyll</em>, -written by Shirley Brooks for "Punch's Pocket -Book," it concludes thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i7">"And the blameless king,</div> - <div class="i0">Rising again (to Lancelot's discontent,</div> - <div class="i0">Who held all speeches a tremendous bore),</div> - <div class="i0">Said, "If one duty to be done remains,</div> - <div class="i0">And 'tis neglected, all the rest is nought</div> - <div class="i0">But Dead Sea apples and the acts of apes."</div> - <div class="i1">Smiled Guinevere, and begged him not to preach;</div> - <div class="i0">She knew that duty, and it should be done:</div> - <div class="i0">So what of pudding on that festal night</div> - <div class="i0">Was not consumed by Arthur and his guests,</div> - <div class="i0">The queen upon the following morning, fried."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In a similar strain, but more ponderous in -treatment is <em>Sir Tray: an Arthurian Idyll</em>, which -appeared in Blackwood's Magazine for January, -1873. A few of the opening lines betray the -whole of the jest:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The widow'd dame of Hubbard's ancient line</div> - <div class="i0">Turned to her cupboard, cornered anglewise</div> - <div class="i0">Betwixt this wall and that, in quest of aught</div> - <div class="i0">To satisfy the craving of Sir Tray,</div> - <div class="i0">Prick-eared companion of her solitude,</div> - <div class="i0">Red-spotted, dirty white, and bare of rib,</div> - <div class="i0">Who followed at her high and pattering heels,</div> - <div class="i0">Prayer in his eye, prayer in his slinking gait,</div> - <div class="i0">Prayer in his pendulous pulsating tail.</div> - <div class="i0">Wide on its creaking jaws revolved the door,</div> - <div class="i0">The cupboard yawned, deep throated, thinly set</div> - <div class="i0">For teeth, with bottles, ancient cannisters,</div> - <div class="i0">And plates of various pattern, blue or white;</div> - <div class="i0">Deep in the void she thrust her hookèd nose</div> - <div class="i0">Peering near sighted for the wished-for bone,</div> - <div class="i0">Whiles her short robe of samite, tilted high,</div> - <div class="i0">The thrifty darnings of her hose revealed;—</div> - <div class="i0">The pointed feature travelled o'er the delf,</div> - <div class="i0">Greasing its tip, but bone or bread found none.</div> - <div class="i0">Wherefore Sir Tray abode still dinnerless,</div> - <div class="i0">Licking his paws beneath the spinning-wheel,</div> - <div class="i0">And meditating much on savoury meats."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The hypercritical might object that, inasmuch -as the dame greased the tip of her nose whilst -peering into the recesses of her store-chamber, -that some small rest of edibles was there, but -the poem hurries on to its tragical climax, and -carries the reader breathless past such trivial -objections as these.</p> - -<p>The dame passes out, and swiftly down the -streets of Camelot, where she seeks, and finds, -the needed bread, and hastens back—but all too -late, alas! for Sir Tray lay prone upon the -hearth, and neither breathed nor stirred:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Dead?" said the Dame, while louder wailed Elaine;</div> - <div class="i0">"I see," she said, "thy fasts were all too long,</div> - <div class="i0">Thy commons all too short, which shortened thus</div> - <div class="i0">Thy days, tho' thou mightst still have cheered mine age</div> - <div class="i0">Had I but timelier to the city wonned.</div> - <div class="i0">Thither I must again, and that right soon,</div> - <div class="i0">For now 'tis meet we lap thee in a shroud,</div> - <div class="i0">And lay thee in the vault by Astolat,</div> - <div class="i0">Where faithful Tray shall by Sir Hubbard lie."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i7">Up a by-lane the undertaker dwelt;</div> - <div class="i0">There day by day he plied his merry trade,</div> - <div class="i0">And all his undertakings undertook:</div> - <div class="i0">Erst knight of Arthur's Court, <em>Sir Waldgrave</em> hight,</div> - <div class="i0">A gruesome carle who hid his jests in gloom,</div> - <div class="i0">And schooled his lid to counterfeit a tear.</div> - <div class="i0">With cheerful hammer he a coffin tapt,</div> - <div class="i0">While hollow, hollow, hollow rang the wood,</div> - <div class="i0">And, as he sawed and hammered, thus he sang—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wood, hammer, nails, ye build a house for him,</div> - <div class="i0">Nails, hammer, wood, ye build a house for me,</div> - <div class="i0">Paying the rent, the taxes, and the rates.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I plant a human acorn in the ground,</div> - <div class="i0">And therefrom straightway springs a goodly tree,</div> - <div class="i0">Budding for me in bread and beer and beef.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O Life, dost thou bring Death or Death bring thee?</div> - <div class="i0">Which of the twain is bringer, which the brought?</div> - <div class="i0">Since men must die that other men may live.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O Death, for me thou plump'st thine hollow cheeks,</div> - <div class="i0">Mak'st of thine antic grin a pleasant smile,</div> - <div class="i0">And prank'st full gaily in thy winding sheet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet am I but the henwife's favourite chick,</div> - <div class="i0">Pampered but doomed; and, in the sequel sure,</div> - <div class="i0">Death will the Undertaker overtake."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Thus to Sir Waldgrade the Dame recounts -her loss:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Sir Tray that with me dwelt,</div> - <div class="i0">Lies on my lonely hearthstone stark and stiff;</div> - <div class="i0">Wagless the tail that waved to welcome me."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> - -<p>Here Waldgrave interposed in sepulchral -tones—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oft have I noted, when the jest went round,</div> - <div class="i0">Sad 'twas to see the wag forget his tale—</div> - <div class="i0">Sadder to see the tail forget its wag."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The description of the coffin follows, and, -lastly, after sundry vicissitudes (including a -visit to the hatter's), the dame returned—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Home through the darksome wold, and raised the latch,</div> - <div class="i0">And marked, full lighted by the ingle-glow,</div> - <div class="i0">Sir Tray, with spoon in hand, and cat on knee,</div> - <div class="i0">Spattering the mess about the chaps of Puss."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> E<span class="smcapa">GGNOGG</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Forth from the purple battlements he fared,</div> - <div class="i0">Sir Eggnogg of the Rampant Lily, named</div> - <div class="i0">From that embrasure of his argent shield</div> - <div class="i0">Given by a thousand leagues of heraldry</div> - <div class="i0">On snuffy parchments drawn,—so forth he fared,</div> - <div class="i0">By bosky boles and autumn leaves he fared,</div> - <div class="i0">Where grew the juniper with berries black,</div> - <div class="i0">The sphery mansions of the future gin.</div> - <div class="i0">But naught of this decoyed his mind, so bent</div> - <div class="i0">On fair Miasma, Saxon-blooded girl,</div> - <div class="i0">Who laughed his loving lullabies to scorn,</div> - <div class="i0">And would have snatched his hero-sword to deck</div> - <div class="i0">Her haughty brow, or warm her hands withal,</div> - <div class="i0">So scornful she: and thence Sir Eggnogg cursed</div> - <div class="i0">Between his teeth, and chewed his iron boots</div> - <div class="i0">In spleen of love. But ere the morn was high</div> - <div class="i0">In the robustious heaven, the postern-tower</div> - <div class="i0">Clang to the harsh, discordant, slivering scream</div> - <div class="i0">Of the tire-woman, at the window bent</div> - <div class="i0">To dress her crispèd hair. She saw, ah woe!</div> - <div class="i0">The fair Miasma, overbalanced, hurled</div> - <div class="i0">O'er the flamboyant parapet which ridged</div> - <div class="i0">The muffled coping of the castle's peak,</div> - <div class="i0">Prone on the ivory pavement of the court,</div> - <div class="i0">Which caught and cleft her fairest skull, and sent</div> - <div class="i0">Her rosy brains to fleck the Orient floor.</div> - <div class="i0">This saw Sir Eggnogg, in his stirrups poised,</div> - <div class="i0">Saw he and cursed, with many a deep-mouthed oath,</div> - <div class="i0">And, finding nothing more could reunite</div> - <div class="i0">The splintered form of fair Miasma, rode</div> - <div class="i0">On his careering palfrey to the wars,</div> - <div class="i0">And there found death, another death than hers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>Diversions of the Echo Club</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The following is from the <em>St. James's Gazette</em>, -January 14, 1881.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">LAYERS</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Lawn Tennisonian Idyl.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I, who a decade past had lived recluse,</div> - <div class="i0">Left for awhile the dust of books and town</div> - <div class="i0">To share the pastimes of a country house;</div> - <div class="i0">And thus it chanced that I beheld a scene</div> - <div class="i0">That steep'd my rusted mind in wonderment.</div> - <div class="i1">The morn was passing fair; no vagrant cloud</div> - <div class="i0">Obscured the summer sun, as from the porch</div> - <div class="i0">I sallied forth to saunter at my will</div> - <div class="i0">Adown the garden path. Anon I came</div> - <div class="i0">To where a lawn outspread its verdant robe,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose decoration filled me with amaze.</div> - <div class="i0">Lawns many had I seen in days gone by,</div> - <div class="i0">But never lawn before the like of this;</div> - <div class="i0">For o'er its grassy plane a strange device</div> - <div class="i2">Of parallelograms rectangular</div> - <div class="i0">Was limn'd in lines of most exceeding whiteness:</div> - <div class="i0">Athwart the centre of this strange device</div> - <div class="i0">A threaden net was stretch'd a full yard high,</div> - <div class="i0">And clasp'd in its reticulated arms,</div> - <div class="i0">As ivy clasps the oak, two sturdy staves</div> - <div class="i0">Uprear'd on either side. At either end,</div> - <div class="i0">Holding opposing corners of the field,</div> - <div class="i0">A youth and damsel did themselves disport</div> - <div class="i0">In costume airy, mystic, wonderful;</div> - <div class="i0">The while in dexter hand each held a quaint</div> - <div class="i0">And spoon-shaped instrument of chequer'd strings—</div> - <div class="i0">Modell'd perchance, upon an ancient lute—</div> - <div class="i0">Wherewith they nimbly urged the bounding sphere</div> - <div class="i0">Across the meshy bar.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">No space had I</div> - <div class="i0">To ponder, ere they spied me and did call</div> - <div class="i0">A welcome—"Hast thou come to see us play?"</div> - <div class="i0">"What is the game?" I ask'd; they answer'd "Love."</div> - <div class="i0">"A pretty game," quoth I, "for man or maid,</div> - <div class="i0">But one wherein a third is out of place;</div> - <div class="i0">Fain would I therefore go." "Nay, nay," they cried;</div> - <div class="i0">"Prithee remain, and thou shalt stand as umpire."</div> - <div class="i0">And so I stay'd, and presently besought</div> - <div class="i0">To know their prospects. Then the maiden said,</div> - <div class="i0">"I'm fifteen now;" the gallant, he replied,</div> - <div class="i0">"And thirty, I." Whereon methought at first</div> - <div class="i0">That he did somewhat overstate his case,</div> - <div class="i0">Though she seem'd rather underneath the mark.</div> - <div class="i0">But when they said that she was thirty-two,</div> - <div class="i0">And, next, that he was forty, I perceived</div> - <div class="i0">They told of other things than length of years;</div> - <div class="i0">Since mortals' ages, e'en at census time,</div> - <div class="i0">Could scarce be subject to such fluctuations.</div> - <div class="i0">Thus did they wage the contest, hither, thither</div> - <div class="i0">Running and smiting, till triumphantly</div> - <div class="i0">The damsel shouted, "Deuce!" Alas! mused I,</div> - <div class="i0">That lips so fair should utter words so base,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet would have held my peace, had not the youth</div> - <div class="i0">Turn'd unto me—"How's that; was that a fault?"</div> - <div class="i0">"A fault!" I answer'd; "aye, and worse than that;</div> - <div class="i0">Indeed, 'tis nigh a sin." "Go to," he said;</div> - <div class="i0">"Thou makest merry." So the sport went on;</div> - <div class="i0">And then she cried, "Advantage, and I win!"</div> - <div class="i0">And then, "'Tis deuce again!" and then, "Advantage</div> - <div class="i0">To thee!" and then she strove to reach the ball,</div> - <div class="i0">And fail'd, and in despair exclaim'd, "Oh, dear,</div> - <div class="i0">I'm beaten!" and fell back upon the sward.</div> - <div class="i0">"And this," quoth I, "is this your game of love?</div> - <div class="i0">Well, I have heard men say that oftentimes</div> - <div class="i0">True love, once smooth, is scattered to the deuce</div> - <div class="i0">And she that first advantage hath obtain'd,</div> - <div class="i0">Doth lose at last, and suffer sad reverse.</div> - <div class="i0">Sweet maid, when thou art wed, the deuce avoid,</div> - <div class="i0">And thou shalt ne'er at least deserve a beating."</div> - <div class="i0">She laugh'd; he frown'd; I turn'd, and went my way.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Notwithstanding the care Tennyson has usually -bestowed upon his writings, he has occasionally -of late years, published poems in the magazines, -remarkable for their inferiority—even as com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>pared -with ordinary magazine poetry—by no -means a very high standard. Perhaps he never -wrote a weaker set of lines than those printed -in "Good Words" for March, 1868, they were -headed—</p> - - -<h3>1865-1866.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I stood on a tower in the wet,</div> - <div class="i0">And New Year and Old Year met,</div> - <div class="i1">And winds were roaring and blowing;</div> - <div class="i0">And I said, "O years! that meet in tears,</div> - <div class="i1">Have ye aught that is worth the knowing?"</div> - <div class="i0">Science enough and exploring,</div> - <div class="i1">Wanderers coming and going;</div> - <div class="i0">Matter enough for deploring,</div> - <div class="i1">But aught that is worth the knowing?</div> - <div class="i0">Seas at my feet were flowing,</div> - <div class="i1">Waves on the shingle pouring;</div> - <div class="i0">Old Year roaring and blowing,</div> - <div class="i1">And New Year blowing and roaring.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The following parody, which appeared shortly -afterwards, is scarcely inferior to the Laureate's -lines.—</p> - - -<p>1867-1868.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sat in a 'bus in the wet,</div> - <div class="i0">"Good Words" I had happened to get,</div> - <div class="i1">With Tennyson's last bestowing;</div> - <div class="i0">And I said, "O bard! who works so hard,</div> - <div class="i1">Have ye aught that is worth the knowing?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Verses enough and so boring,</div> - <div class="i1">Twaddle quite overflowing,</div> - <div class="i0">Rubbish enough for deploring;</div> - <div class="i1">But aught that is worth the knowing?</div> - <div class="i0">Placards on walls were glowing,</div> - <div class="i1">Puffs in the papers pouring,</div> - <div class="i0">"Good Words" roaring and blowing,</div> - <div class="i1">"Once a Week" blowing and roaring!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Or, "another way," as the cookery books say—</p> - - -<h3>A P<span class="smcapa">ARODY</span>,</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>After Tennyson's Last.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span> stood in the wet,</div> - <div class="i0">And he and his publishers met,</div> - <div class="i0">His publishers cursing and swearing,</div> - <div class="i0">And they said "O Tennyson tell us,</div> - <div class="i0">Have you anything good to sell us,</div> - <div class="i0">The public mind it enrages,</div> - <div class="i0">To read such bosh by pages,</div> - <div class="i0">'The Victim' was little better,</div> - <div class="i0">And oh! that 'Spiteful Letter.'"</div> - <div class="i0">They spoke, their poor hair tearing,</div> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span> poems rehearsing,</div> - <div class="i0">Publishers cursing and swearing,</div> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span> swearing and cursing.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>"The Victim," above referred to, which also -had appeared in "Good Words," was the subject -of the following witty parody, in which the -versification of the original is closely imitated:—</p> - - - -<h3>"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ICTIM</span>."</h3> - -<p class="center">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> <em>by Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate</em>,</p> - -<p class="center">(See <em>Good Words</em>, January 1, 1868).</p> - - -<p class="p6">I.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A plague upon the people fell,</div> - <div class="i1">A plague of writers high and low,</div> - <div class="i0">There were some wrote ill, and some wrote well,</div> - <div class="i1">And the Novel, the Novel was all the go;</div> - <div class="i0">But the people tired of what they admired,</div> - <div class="i1">And they said to the Editors one and all,</div> - <div class="i0">'We have had enough of sensation stuff,</div> - <div class="i1">So give us a change, be it great or small'—</div> - <div class="i5">And the Editors paled</div> - <div class="i5">As they heard the throng—</div> - <div class="i5">What would you have of us?</div> - <div class="i5">Poem or Song?</div> - <div class="i5">Were it the queerest,</div> - <div class="i5">Were it the dearest</div> - <div class="i5">Money can purchase,</div> - <div class="i5">We'll give you a Song.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p6">II.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But still the plague spread far and wide,</div> - <div class="i1">Bad novels were written and bought and read,</div> - <div class="i0">In which handsome wives took their husbands' lives,</div> - <div class="i1">And maidens behaved as if they were wed:</div> - <div class="i0">So the people stormed and some of them swore,</div> - <div class="i1">'"Good Words" they butter no parsnips, no;</div> - <div class="i0">So give us a song, both sweet and strong,</div> - <div class="i1">Or you or your magazines may go—</div> - <div class="i5">To Jericho!'—</div> - <div class="i5">Or was it Hong Kong?</div> - <div class="i5">'Were it the queerest,</div> - <div class="i5">Were it the dearest,</div> - <div class="i5">We'll give them a song.'</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p6">III.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Editors went through 'The Men of the Time,'</div> - <div class="i1">'Including the Women,' with eager look,</div> - <div class="i0">Through the men and women who dabble in rhyme,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose names are inscribed in that golden book.</div> - <div class="i0">'Oh! who shall we get to sing to "the Beast"?</div> - <div class="i1">To sing to the Beast a deathless song?'—</div> - <div class="i0">'Till they came to Tupper, the great High Priest—</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Proverbially</em> the worst of the throng.</div> - <div class="i5">And their hearts exulted</div> - <div class="i5">A moment or two:—</div> - <div class="i5">'<em>His</em> were the queerest,</div> - <div class="i5">But we've promised the <em>dearest</em>,</div> - <div class="i5">Tupper won't do!'</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p6">IV.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Again they looked for a bard divine.</div> - <div class="i1">'Here's one,' they exclaimed, 'should be preferred</div> - <div class="i0">A poet the half of whose name is <em>Swine</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">Is fittest to sing to the swinish herd.</div> - <div class="i0">But <em>Swine</em> and <em>burn</em> suggest in their turn</div> - <div class="i1">Ideas a little too gross and warm;</div> - <div class="i0">And a poet who writes of hermaphrodites</div> - <div class="i1">Is scarcely the man to weather the storm.</div> - <div class="i5">So Swineburne, too,</div> - <div class="i5">Won't do, won't do!</div> - <div class="i5">What's to be done</div> - <div class="i5">With the raging throng?</div> - <div class="i5">We can't have the queerest,</div> - <div class="i5">We'll pay for the dearest:</div> - <div class="i5">Give us a song!'</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="p6">V.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The cry went forth o'er cities and towns;</div> - <div class="i1">It tickled the ears of the men who write;</div> - <div class="i0">It leaped from the land and over the downs,</div> - <div class="i1">And flew like wind through the Isle of Wight:</div> - <div class="i0">There Tennyson sat in his wide-awake hat,</div> - <div class="i1">Or smoked and strolled on his 'sponge-wet' grounds;</div> - <div class="i0">'<em>I</em>'ll give them a song not over long—</div> - <div class="i1">I'll give them a song for two hundred pounds.'</div> - <div class="i5">How happy, how happy,</div> - <div class="i5">The Editors grew!</div> - <div class="i5">'Were it the merest</div> - <div class="i5">Trash, 'tis the <em>dearest</em>,</div> - <div class="i5">And therefore will do.'</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p6">VI.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The poet wrote the poem I quote,</div> - <div class="i1">'The Victim,' whose life the priests would destroy</div> - <div class="i0">But the Editor knows ere now, I suppose,</div> - <div class="i1">That <em>he</em> is the victim, and not the boy:</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis he must <em>bleed</em> for this rhythmic deed</div> - <div class="i1">And ever for more, as the public cry,</div> - <div class="i0">May Alfred the Great—the Laureate—</div> - <div class="i1">Shriek out 'the <em>dearest</em>, the <em>dearest</em> am I!'</div> - <div class="i5">And the public are happy,</div> - <div class="i5">And so they ought;</div> - <div class="i5">For to them doth belong,</div> - <div class="i5">If not the sincerest</div> - <div class="i5">Outburst of song</div> - <div class="i5">That ever was thought,</div> - <div class="i5">At least the dearest</div> - <div class="i5">That ever was bought.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">January 27, 1868, <span class="mleft10"> </span>"M."</div> - <div class="i15"><em>Dublin Paper</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Tennyson's <em>The Victim</em> was curiously anticipated -by <em>The Prophet Enoch</em>, a poem by James -Burton Robertson (London, James Blackwood, -1860), in which the following passage occurs:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"'One victim more!' a thousand voices cry;</div> - <div class="i0">'One victim more!' resounds the cave of gloom.</div> - <div class="i0">Lo! borne on lofty car, 'mid savage cries</div> - <div class="i0">Of a wild band, a costlier victim comes.</div> - <div class="i0">It is a lovely stripling, o'er whose cheek</div> - <div class="i0">Youth hath her earliest purple bloom suffused:</div> - <div class="i0">In rich luxuriant curls his locks descend,</div> - <div class="i0">Twined with the fatal flowers that sweetly mock</div> - <div class="i0">The victim they adorn. Wild with despair,</div> - <div class="i0">His shrieking mother grasps the iron wheel</div> - <div class="i0">Of the inexorable car: she spurns</div> - <div class="i0">The fierce rebukes, or menace of the throng,</div> - <div class="i0">To catch the last glimpse of her darling boy.</div> - <div class="i0">'Ah! spare my son; shed mine own blood instead:</div> - <div class="i0">My life may satisfy your vengeful gods!'"</div> - <div class="i0">Exclaims the hapless matron, but in vain.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> T<span class="smcapa">HREE</span> C<span class="smcapa">OURSES OF</span> A<span class="smcapa">CHILLES</span>.</h3> - -<p>Mr. Gladstone's fondness for Homer is well -known, and he was doubtless one of the first to -read the Laureate's lines in the <em>Nineteenth Century</em>, -called "Achilles Over the Trench." This Trojan -hero will now be dearer than ever to the Premier, -for the Laureate's lines show him to be a man -strangely after the "People's William's" own -heart. Thus, it is matter of public notoriety -that Mr. Gladstone thinks thrice before he makes -his mind up to any great matter, and he is -famed for his historic "three courses." How -curious, then, to find that Achilles, too, has what -may be termed a "triologic" bent of mind! -Evidently it was not till he had thought thrice -that he remained sulking in his tent. And when -he came out and fought, we find, from Alfred -Tennyson, that—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Thrice from the dyke he sent his mighty shout,</div> - <div class="i0">Thrice backward reel'd the Trojans and allies."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The fragment of verse is incomplete, but we -have little doubt that when we see it complete, -we shall read something of this kind:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Thrice rolled his glowing eye, with fury fired,</div> - <div class="i0">And thrice his spear leapt forward at the foe;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst as the sinking sun proclaimed it three,</div> - <div class="i0">He thrice imbued it in the Trojan's blood.</div> - <div class="i0">Then stood he where three stones were rudely piled,</div> - <div class="i0">And thrice he thought what next his course should be;</div> - <div class="i0">Thrice wiped the triple tears that dewed his cheek,</div> - <div class="i0">Thrice muttered words I care not to repeat;</div> - <div class="i0">Then murmuring his mother's name three times,</div> - <div class="i0">Made up his mind to slaughter three more foes.</div> - <div class="i0">So thrice again his spear was launched in space,</div> - <div class="i0">And three miles off, within Troy's triple walls,</div> - <div class="i0">Three widows, each with children three, were left</div> - <div class="i0">To mourn that he, Achilles, had not thought</div> - <div class="i0">Four times that afternoon instead of three."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">From <em>Funny Folks</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>UNFORTUNATE MISS BAILEY.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>An Experiment.</em></p> - -<p class="center">(A parody of the <em>Lord of Burleigh</em>.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When he whispers, "O, Miss Bailey,</div> - <div class="i1">Thou art brightest of the throng!"</div> - <div class="i0">She makes murmur, softly, gaily—</div> - <div class="i1">"Alfred, I have loved thee long."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then he drops upon his knees, a</div> - <div class="i1">Proof his heart is soft as wax;</div> - <div class="i0">She's—I don't know who; but he's a</div> - <div class="i1">Captain bold from Halifax.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Though so loving, such another</div> - <div class="i1">Artless bride was never seen;</div> - <div class="i0">Coachee thinks that she's his mother—</div> - <div class="i1">Till they get to Gretna Green.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There they stand by him attended,</div> - <div class="i1">Hear the sable smith rehearse</div> - <div class="i0">That which links them, when 'tis ended,</div> - <div class="i1">Tight for better or for worse.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Now her heart rejoices—ugly</div> - <div class="i1">Troubles need disturb her less—</div> - <div class="i0">Now the Happy Pair are snugly</div> - <div class="i1">Seated in the night express.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So they go with fond emotion,</div> - <div class="i1">So they journey through the night;</div> - <div class="i0">London is their land of Goschen—</div> - <div class="i1">See its suburbs are in sight!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Hark, the sound of life is swelling,</div> - <div class="i1">Pacing up, and racing down;</div> - <div class="i0">Soon they reach her simple dwelling—</div> - <div class="i1">Burley-street, by Somers Town.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What is there to so astound them?</div> - <div class="i1">She cries "Oh!" for he cries "Hah!"</div> - <div class="i0">When five brats emerge—confound them!</div> - <div class="i1">Shouting out, "M<span class="smcapa">AMMA</span>!"—"P<span class="smcapa">APA</span>!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> - <div class="i0">While at this he wonders blindly,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor their meaning can divine,</div> - <div class="i0">Proud she turns them round, and kindly,</div> - <div class="i1">"All of these are mine and thine!"</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">Here he pines and grows dyspeptic,</div> - <div class="i1">Losing heart he loses pith—</div> - <div class="i0">Hints that Bishop Tait's a sceptic,</div> - <div class="i1">Swears that Moses was a myth.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sees no evidence in Paley,</div> - <div class="i1">Takes to drinking ratafia:</div> - <div class="i0">Shies the muffins at Miss Bailey,</div> - <div class="i1">While she's pouring out the tea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">One day, knocking up his quarters,</div> - <div class="i1">Poor Miss Bailey found him dead,</div> - <div class="i0">Hanging in his knotted garters,</div> - <div class="i1">Which she knitted ere they wed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">F<span class="smcapa">REDERICK</span> L<span class="smcapa">OCKER</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h4>In Memoriam.</h4> - -<p class="center">£ S. D.</p> - -<p class="center">"<em>Abiit ad plures.</em>"</p> - -<p class="p6">B<span class="smcapa">ADEN</span>-B<span class="smcapa">ADEN</span>, <span class="smcapa">MDCCCLXVIII</span>.</p> - - -<p class="p6">I.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I H<span class="smcapa">OLD</span> it truth, with him who rings</div> - <div class="i1">His money on a testing stone</div> - <div class="i1">To judge its goodness by its tone,</div> - <div class="i1">That gold will buy all other things.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It hides the ravages of years;</div> - <div class="i1">It gilds the matrimonial match;</div> - <div class="i1">It makes deformity "a catch;"</div> - <div class="i0">And dries the sorrowing widow's tears.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let love grasp cash, lest both be drowned;</div> - <div class="i1">Let Mammon keep his gilded gloss;</div> - <div class="i1">Ah, easier far to bear the loss</div> - <div class="i0">Of love, than of a thousand pound!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let not the victor say with scorn,</div> - <div class="i1">While of his winnings he may boast,</div> - <div class="i0">"Behold the man who played and lost,</div> - <div class="i1">And now is weak and overworn."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<p class="p6">II.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O, Fortune, fickle as the breeze!</div> - <div class="i1">O, Temptress, at the shrine of gain!</div> - <div class="i1">O, sweet and bitter!—all in vain</div> - <div class="i0">I come to thee for monied ease!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The chances surely run," she says;</div> - <div class="i1">But prick the series with a pin;</div> - <div class="i1">Mark well; and then go in and win!—</div> - <div class="i0">Or lose! for there are but two ways.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And still the phantom, Fortune, stands</div> - <div class="i1">And sings with siren silvery tone;</div> - <div class="i1">Music that I may reach alone</div> - <div class="i0">With empty purse and empty hands!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And shall I still this fickle fair</div> - <div class="i1">With constant energies pursue?</div> - <div class="i1">Or do as other people do—</div> - <div class="i0">Escape the tangles of her hair?</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<p class="p6">XXVII.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I envy not in any mood</div> - <div class="i1">The mortal void of Mammon's lust,</div> - <div class="i1">Who never to a chance will trust,</div> - <div class="i0">And never Fortune's favours woo'd.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I envy not the plodding boor,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose stupid ignorant content</div> - <div class="i1">Cares not if odds on an event</div> - <div class="i0">Are 2 to 1 or 10 to 4.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nor him who counts himself as blest,</div> - <div class="i1">And says, "I take the wiser way,</div> - <div class="i1">Because for love alone I play,</div> - <div class="i0">So gambling never breaks my rest."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I hold it true, whate'er befall,</div> - <div class="i1">I feel it when I lose the most,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis better to have play'd and lost</div> - <div class="i0">Than never to have played at all.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">(Name of Author not known).</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>P<span class="smcapa">UNCH TO</span> S<span class="smcapa">ALISBURY</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I hold it true, whate'er befall,</div> - <div class="i0">Though Jingo bounce and patriot rail,</div> - <div class="i0">'Twere better far to meet and fail,</div> - <div class="i0">Than never try to meet at all.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">INKER'S</span> S<span class="smcapa">OLACE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I hold it true whoe'er may fall,</div> - <div class="i1">I <em>feel</em> it when I tumble most,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis better to have rinked and lost</div> - <div class="i1">Than never to have rinked at all.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Tennyson</em> (revised).</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">EHIND</span> T<span class="smcapa">IME.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She looked quite cross—her face had not</div> - <div class="i1">The smile that once lured one and all,</div> - <div class="i0">While waiting at that seaside spot</div> - <div class="i1">For him she loved;—divinely tall;</div> - <div class="i0">Her sloe-black eyes showed restless change,</div> - <div class="i1">Small sparks of anger you might catch,</div> - <div class="i1">And yet those eyes you could not match,</div> - <div class="i0">Were you throughout the world to range,</div> - <div class="i1">"Alas! I'm getting weary, weary—</div> - <div class="i2">Waiting here for Fred;</div> - <div class="i1">He said he'd take me sailing—query?</div> - <div class="i2">He's not come yet," she said.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"He asked me when we met last night,</div> - <div class="i1">If I would like a sail or row;</div> - <div class="i0">I answered 'Yes,' with great delight;</div> - <div class="i1">He said at one o'clock we'd go.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis now five minutes past the hour,</div> - <div class="i1">And where is <em>he</em>, I'd like to know?</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! if I did not love him so</div> - <div class="i0">I'd punish him—and show my pow'r.</div> - <div class="i1">But oh, alas! it <em>is</em> so dreary</div> - <div class="i2">When I am not with Fred;</div> - <div class="i1">I feel like Moore's lamenting Peri:</div> - <div class="i2">Why <em>won't</em> he come?" she said.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The tear-drops then welled from her eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">And down her damask cheek they crept;</div> - <div class="i0">Her bosom heaved with sundry sighs,</div> - <div class="i1">She cried, "I'll <em>no</em> excuse accept.</div> - <div class="i0">I will not speak to him," said she;</div> - <div class="i0">"How <em>dare</em> he keep me waiting here!"</div> - <div class="i1">When suddenly, approaching near,</div> - <div class="i0">Her tardy swain she chanced to see;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And then, forgetting she'd been weary,</div> - <div class="i1">She cried, "Oh, here comes Fred!"</div> - <div class="i0">And somehow then she seemed less dreary,</div> - <div class="i1">"How <em>nice</em> he looks!" she said.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">H. C. N<span class="smcapa">EWTON.</span></div> - <div class="i0">From <em>Tom Hood's Comic Annual</em>, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Poet Laureate's cruise with Sir Donald -Currie, in the autumn of 1883, was an event of -some importance, as he was then afforded an -opportunity of reading his poems to a select -audience of Royal personages; it is generally -supposed that it was during that trip also that -the Prime Minister offered him the title, his -acceptance of which has since been the subject -of so much comment and censure. <em>Punch</em> -(September 22, 1883) described the voyage to -the north in the following comical medley of -parodies of the Laureate's poems:—</p> - - - -<h3>A L<span class="smcapa">AUREATE'S</span> L<span class="smcapa">OG</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Rough Weather Notes from the New Berth-day Book</em>.)</p> - - -<p class="center">M<span class="smcapa">ONDAY.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If you're waking, please don't call me, please don't call me, C<span class="smcapa">URRIE</span> dear,</div> - <div class="i0">For they tell me that to-morrow t'wards the open we're to steer!</div> - <div class="i0">No doubt, for you and those aloft, the maddest merriest way,—</div> - <div class="i0">But <em>I</em> always feel best in a bay, C<span class="smcapa">URRIE</span>, <em>I</em> always feel best in a bay!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">T<span class="smcapa">UESDAY.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Take, take, take?—</div> - <div class="i0">What will I take for tea?</div> - <div class="i0">The thinnest slice—no butter,—</div> - <div class="i0">And that's quite enough for me!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">W<span class="smcapa">EDNESDAY.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It is the little roll within the berth</div> - <div class="i0">That by-and-by will put an end to mirth,</div> - <div class="i1">And, never ceasing, slowly prostrate all!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">T<span class="smcapa">HURSDAY.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let me alone! What pleasure can you have</div> - <div class="i1">In chaffing evil? Tell me, what's the fun</div> - <div class="i0">Of ever climbing up the climbing wave?</div> - <div class="i0">All you the rest, you know how to behave</div> - <div class="i1">In roughish weather! I, for one,</div> - <div class="i1">Ask for the shore—or death, dark death,—I am so done!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">F<span class="smcapa">RIDAY.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Twelve knots an hour! But what am I?</div> - <div class="i1">A poet, with no land in sight,</div> - <div class="i1">Insisting that he feels "all right"</div> - <div class="i0">With half a smile—and half a sigh!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">S<span class="smcapa">ATURDAY.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Comfort? Comfort scorned of lubbers! Hear this truth the Poet roar,</div> - <div class="i0">That a sorrow's crown of sorrows is remembering days on shore.</div> - <div class="i0">Drug his soda, lest he learn it when the Foreland gleams a spec</div> - <div class="i0">In the dead unhappy night, when he can't sit up on deck!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">S<span class="smcapa">UNDAY.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ah! you've called me nice and early, nice and early, C<span class="smcapa">URRIE</span> dear!</div> - <div class="i0">What? Really in? Well, come, the news I'm precious glad to hear;</div> - <div class="i0">For though in such good company I willingly would stay—</div> - <div class="i0">I'm glad to be back in the bay, C<span class="smcapa">URRIE</span>, I'm glad to be back in the bay!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is now somewhat more than fifty years -since a young, and comparatively obscure -writer addressed some presumptious lines to a -lady of noble family, in which he sneered at her -claims of long descent, ridiculed nobility generally, -and concluded by advising her to go out -amongst the poor, to teach the children, and to -feed the beggars.</p> - -<p>The tone of the poem was censorious and -offensive; but Lady Clara Vere de Vere, to whom -it was addressed, let it pass unnoticed by, knowing -that "Everything comes to those who know -how to wait," and now this last daughter of a -hundred Earls has written a good-humoured -rejoinder to the first Baron Tennyson, in which -she playfully assumes her age to have remained -what it was fifty years ago:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred T. de T.,</div> - <div class="i1">Are we at last in sweet accord?</div> - <div class="i0">I learn—excuse my girlish glee—</div> - <div class="i1">That you've become a noble Lord;</div> - <div class="i0">So now that time to think you've had</div> - <div class="i1">Of what it is makes charming girls,</div> - <div class="i0">Perhaps you find they're not so bad—</div> - <div class="i1">Those daughters of a hundred earls.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred T. de T.,</div> - <div class="i1">When last your face I chanced to see,</div> - <div class="i0">You had the passion of your kind,</div> - <div class="i1">You said some horrid things to me;</div> - <div class="i0">And then—"we parted," you to sail</div> - <div class="i1">For Oshkosh, in the simple steerage,</div> - <div class="i0">But now—excuse my girlish glee—</div> - <div class="i1">You reappear, and in the peerage!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred T. de T.,</div> - <div class="i1">Were you indeed misunderstood</div> - <div class="i0">That other day I heard you say,</div> - <div class="i1">"'Tis only noble to be good?"</div> - <div class="i0">I really thought you then affirmed—</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis so the words come back to me,</div> - <div class="i0">"Kind hearts are more than coronets,</div> - <div class="i1">And simple faith than Norman blood."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred T. de T.,</div> - <div class="i1">There stand twin-spectres in your hall,</div> - <div class="i0">And as they found you were a Lord</div> - <div class="i1">Two wholesome hearts were changed to gall;</div> - <div class="i0">The two, an humble couple they,</div> - <div class="i1">I think I see them, on my life,</div> - <div class="i0">The while they read of "Baron" T.,</div> - <div class="i1">The grand old Adam, and his wife!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trust me, Baron T. de T.,</div> - <div class="i1">From yon blue heaven above us bent,</div> - <div class="i0">This simple granger and his spouse</div> - <div class="i1">Smile as you read your long descent.</div> - <div class="i0">Howe'er it be, it seems to me,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor must you think my language cruel,</div> - <div class="i0">It seems—excuse my girlish glee—</div> - <div class="i1">Consistency's a lovely jewel.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred T. de T.,</div> - <div class="i1">I know you're proud your name to own;</div> - <div class="i0">Your pride is yet no mate for mine,</div> - <div class="i1">My blood is bluer than your own.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Don't bid me break your heart again</div> - <div class="i1">For pastime, ere to town I go;</div> - <div class="i0">I'll not do that, my noble Lord,</div> - <div class="i1">But give you something that I owe.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Baron Alfred T. de T.,</div> - <div class="i1">When you were in that angry fit</div> - <div class="i0">You turned to me and thundered out,</div> - <div class="i1">"Go, teach the orphan girl to knit."</div> - <div class="i0">I am an orphan girl myself,</div> - <div class="i1">And that my knitting you may see,</div> - <div class="i0">Here is a <em>mitten</em> that I've knit—</div> - <div class="i1">Excuse my gushing, girlish glee.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Now, there was another young lady who was -treated with scant courtesy by the author of -<em>Locksley Hall</em>, and she, too, has written a reply -to the love-sick ravings of the young poet:—</p> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">OUSIN</span> A<span class="smcapa">MY'S</span> V<span class="smcapa">IEW</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">S<span class="smcapa">CENE</span>—<em>The neighbourhood of Locksley Hall.</em></p> - -<p class="center"><em>Enter</em> Lady A<span class="smcapa">MY</span> H<span class="smcapa">ARDCASH</span> (<em>ætat. forty</em>)<em>, with a book of -poems and several children</em>.</p> - -<p class="center">L<span class="smcapa">ADY</span> A<span class="smcapa">MY</span> <em>loquitur</em>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">HILDREN</span>, leave me here a little; don't disturb me, I request;</div> - <div class="i0">For Mamma is very tired, and fain would take a little rest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis the place, the same old place, though looking somewhat pinched and small.</div> - <div class="i0">Ah, 'tis many and many a day since last I looked on Locksley Hall!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then 'twas in the spring of life and love—ah, Love, the great Has-been!</div> - <div class="i0">Love which, like the year's own Spring, is very nice—and very <em>green!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the Spring the new French fashions come the female heart to bless,</div> - <div class="i0">In the Spring the very housemaid gets herself another dress;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the Spring we're apt to feel like children just let loose from school;</div> - <div class="i0">In the Spring a young girl's fancy's very apt to play the fool.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">On the moorland, by the waters he was really <em>very</em> nice;</div> - <div class="i0">There was no one else at hand, and I—forgot Mamma's advice.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He indulged in rosy raptures, heaved the most suggestive sighs,</div> - <div class="i0">Said the very prettiest things about my lips and hazel eyes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All his talk was most poetic, all his sentiments were grand,</div> - <div class="i0">Though his meaning, I confess, I did not always understand.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So that, when he popped the question, I <em>did</em> blush and hang my head,</div> - <div class="i0">And,—well, I dare say the rest was pretty much as he has said.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">* <span class="mleft5">*</span> <span class="mleft5">*</span> <span class="mleft5">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">L<span class="smcapa">OCKSLEY'S</span> famous—yes, and married, notwithstanding his fierce curse,</div> - <div class="i0">To a dame with lots of gold and very little taste for verse.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nice to be a Lion's Lady in Society, no doubt!</div> - <div class="i0">Not so nice to smooth his mane at home when Leo is put out.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Talk of tantrums! Read these lines he published after—well, the jilt,</div> - <div class="i0">Pitching into poor Mamma, and charging me with nameless guilt!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dear Mamma! <em>I</em> thought her hard—but I'm a mother now myself,</div> - <div class="i0">And, I know what utter nonsense is the poet's scorn of pelf.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">* <span class="mleft5">*</span> <span class="mleft5">*</span> <span class="mleft5">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Woman is the lesser man!" I hold that false as it is hard.</div> - <div class="i0">The most womanish of creatures surely is an angry bard.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet, sometimes, when, as at present, Spring is brightening all the land,</div> - <div class="i0">Comes that longing for the fields, S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> R<span class="smcapa">UFUS</span> <em>cannot</em> understand;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Comes a ghostly sort of doubt if e'en Society can give</div> - <div class="i0">All, quite all, for which a <em>well-loved</em> woman might desire to live;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Comes a memory of his voice, a recollection of his glance,</div> - <div class="i0">Thoughts of things which then had power to make my maiden pulses dance;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Comes,—but I'm extremely stupid. Well, I know if our dear F<span class="smcapa">AN</span></div> - <div class="i0">Took a fancy for a poet, I should soon dismiss the man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Here she comes! She'll wed, I hope, rich Viscount V<span class="smcapa">IVIAN</span> ere the fall.</div> - <div class="i0">She ne'er had had <em>that</em> chance, had I espoused the Lord of Locksley Hall!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Punch</em>, June 1, 1878.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In a magazine entitled <em>The Train</em>, published -in 1856, there was a poem called <em>The Three -Voices</em>, written by Mr. Lewis Carroll, who has -since become famous for his quaintly humorous -works. This was a parody of the obvious -truisms, the muddled metaphor, and vague -reasonings contained in Tennyson's <em>Two Voices</em>, -and Mr. Carroll has wisely inserted it in his last -collection of poems (<em>Rhyme? and Reason?</em> Macmillan -and Co.), it is somewhat altered from its -original form, and is much heightened in its -effect by the intensely comic, and ably drawn, -illustrations of Mr. Arthur B. Frost.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, this clever parody is too long to -quote entire, and an extract gives but a faint -idea of its terribly grotesque sorrows, and its -whimsical burlesque of the Laureate's reasoning -in <em>The Two Voices:</em>—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HEY</span> walked beside the wave-worn beach,</div> - <div class="i0">Her tongue was very apt to teach,</div> - <div class="i0">And now and then he did beseech,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She would abate her dulcet tone,</div> - <div class="i0">Because the talk was all her own,</div> - <div class="i0">And he was dull as any drone.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She urged "No cheese is made of chalk;"</div> - <div class="i0">And ceaseless flowed her dreary talk,</div> - <div class="i0">Tuned to the footfall of a walk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Her voice was very full and rich,</div> - <div class="i0">And when at length she asked him "Which?"</div> - <div class="i0">It mounted to its highest pitch.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He a bewildered answer gave,</div> - <div class="i0">Drowned in the sullen moaning wave,</div> - <div class="i0">Lost in the echoes of the cave.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She waited not for his reply,</div> - <div class="i0">But, with a downward leaden eye,</div> - <div class="i0">Went on as if he were not by.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then, having wholly overthrown</div> - <div class="i0">His views, and stripped them to the bone,</div> - <div class="i0">Proceeded to unfold her own.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Shall Man be Man? And shall he miss</div> - <div class="i0">Of other thoughts no thoughts but this,</div> - <div class="i0">Harmonious dews of sober bliss?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"What boots it? Shall his fevered eye</div> - <div class="i0">Through towering nothingness descry</div> - <div class="i0">The grisly phantom hurry by?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And hear dumb shrieks that fill the air;</div> - <div class="i0">See mouths that gape and eyes that stare,</div> - <div class="i0">And redden in the dusky glare?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Yet still before him, as he flies,</div> - <div class="i0">One pallid form shall ever rise,</div> - <div class="i0">And bodying forth in glassy eyes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The vision of a vanished good,</div> - <div class="i0">Low peering through the tangled wood,</div> - <div class="i0">Shall freeze the current of his blood."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Till, like a silent water-mill,</div> - <div class="i0">When summer suns have dried the rill,</div> - <div class="i0">She reached a full stop, and was still.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To muse a little space did seem,</div> - <div class="i0">Then like the echo of a dream,</div> - <div class="i0">Harped back upon her threadbare theme.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Still an attentive ear he bent,</div> - <div class="i0">But could not fathom what she meant:</div> - <div class="i0">She was not deep, nor eloquent.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But, in truth, Tennyson has never failed so -signally as when he has attempted to be metaphysical, -and although his admirers have written -many essays to explain the profundity of his -ideas, and the beauties of his philosophy, their -explanations seem to require some explaining, -whilst it also seems that general readers fail to -discern the charm in his would-be philosophical -writings.</p> - -<p>The <em>Higher Pantheism</em> may be taken as an -instance. It commences thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains—</div> - <div class="i0">Are not these, O Soul, the vision of Him who reigns?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Is not the vision He? tho' He be not that which he seems?</div> - <div class="i0">Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dark is the world to thee; thyself art the reason why;</div> - <div class="i0">For is He not all but thou, that hast power to feel "I am I!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>There are several other couplets which do -not tend to unravel the poet's tangled web of -thought, whereas if we turn to <em>The Heptalogia</em> -(Chatto and Windus, 1880), we find the whole -mystery treated with much greater lucidity of -expression in <em>The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell</em>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O<span class="smcapa">NE</span>, who is not, we see; but one, whom we see not, is:</div> - <div class="i0">Surely this is not that; but that is assuredly this.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under:</div> - <div class="i0">If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Doubt is faith in the main; but faith on the whole is doubt:</div> - <div class="i0">We cannot believe by proof; but could we believe without?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover:</div> - <div class="i0">Neither are straight lines curves; yet over is under and over.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">God, whom we see not, is; and God who is not, we see;</div> - <div class="i0">Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle we take it is dee.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The clever little work, from which the above -is an extract, was published anonymously, but -has been ascribed by the <em>Athenæum</em>, and other -authorities, to a no less distinguished poet than -Mr. A. C. Swinburne. Its full title is—</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>SPECIMENS OF MODERN POETS.</h2> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">EPTALOGIA; OR</span>, T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">EVEN AGAINST</span> S<span class="smcapa">ENSE</span>. -A C<span class="smcapa">AP WITH</span> S<span class="smcapa">EVEN</span> B<span class="smcapa">ELLS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1a"> I. The Higher Pantheism in a Nutshell.</div> - <div class="i0"> <span class="mleft1d"> </span>II. John Jones.</div> - <div class="i0"><span class="mleft1c"> </span>III. The Poet and the Woodlouse.</div> - <div class="i0"><span class="mleft1b"> </span>IV. The Person of the House (Idyl <span class="smcapa">CCCLXVI</span>.)</div> - <div class="i1a">V. Last Words of a Seventh-rate Poet.</div> - <div class="i0"><span class="mleft1a"> </span>VI. Sonnet for a Picture.</div> - <div class="i0"><span class="mleft1e"> </span>VII. Nephelidia.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>All these poems display wonderful power and -choice of language, with a perfect mastery of -the most difficult forms of metre, such as only a -practised poet could achieve.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><em>The Nineteenth Century</em> for May, 1880, contained -another of the Laureate's vague rhapsodical -poems, entitled <em>De Profundis</em>, of which all the -meaning was as well expressed in the following -parody as in the original:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Awfully deep, my boy, awfully deep,</div> - <div class="i0">From that great deep before our world begins;</div> - <div class="i0">Awfully deep, my boy, awfully deep,</div> - <div class="i0">From that true world within the world we see,</div> - <div class="i0">Whereof our world is but the bounding shore.</div> - <div class="i0">Awfully deep, my boy, awfully deep,</div> - <div class="i0">With this ninth moon that sends the hidden sun</div> - <div class="i0">Down yon dark sea, thou comest, darling boy."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Princess Ida; or, Castle Adamant</em>, by Mr. -W. S. Gilbert, which was produced at the Savoy -Theatre, on January 5th, 1884, though a -humorous adaptation of Tennyson's <em>Princess</em>, is -not strictly a burlesque, and is styled by the author -"A Respectful Operatic Per-version" of the -Laureate's poem. It is altered from an earlier -piece by Mr. Gilbert on the same theme. -Almost the only passage which can be considered -an actual parody of Tennyson's diction is -the speech of the Princess Ida to the Neophytes, -which is modelled on the Lady Psyche's -harangue in the original poem:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Women of Adamant, fair Neophytes—</div> - <div class="i0">Who thirst for such instruction as we give,</div> - <div class="i0">Attend, while I unfold a parable.</div> - <div class="i0">The elephant is mightier than Man,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet Man subdues him. Why? The elephant</div> - <div class="i0">Is elephantine everywhere but here (<em>tapping her forehead</em>).</div> - <div class="i0">And Man, whose brain is to the elephant's,</div> - <div class="i0">As Woman's brain to man's—(that's rule of three)</div> - <div class="i0">Conquers the foolish giant of the woods,</div> - <div class="i0">As woman, in her turn, shall conquer Man!</div> - <div class="i0">In mathematics, woman leads the way—</div> - <div class="i0">The narrow-minded pedant still believes</div> - <div class="i0">That two and two make four! Why we can prove,</div> - <div class="i0">We women-household drudges as we are—</div> - <div class="i0">That two and two make five—or three—or seven;</div> - <div class="i0">Or five-and-twenty, if the case demands!</div> - <div class="i0">Diplomacy! The wiliest diplomate</div> - <div class="i0">Is absolutely helpless in our hands,</div> - <div class="i0"><em>He</em> wheedles monarchs—woman wheedles him!</div> - <div class="i0">Logic? Why, tyrant Man himself admits</div> - <div class="i0">It's waste of time to argue with a woman!</div> - <div class="i0">Then we excel in social qualities:</div> - <div class="i0">Though Man professes that he holds our sex</div> - <div class="i0">In utter scorn, I venture to believe</div> - <div class="i0">He'd rather spend the day with one of you</div> - <div class="i0">Than with five hundred of his fellow-men!</div> - <div class="i0">In all things we excel! Believing this,</div> - <div class="i0">A hundred maidens here have sworn to place</div> - <div class="i0">Their feet upon his neck. If we succeed,</div> - <div class="i0">We'll treat him better than he treated us:</div> - <div class="i0">But if we fail, why then let hope fail too!</div> - <div class="i0">Let no one care a penny how she looks—</div> - <div class="i0">Let red be worn with yellow—blue with green—</div> - <div class="i0">Crimson with scarlet—violet with blue!</div> - <div class="i0">Let all your things misfit, and you yourselves,</div> - <div class="i0">At inconvenient moments come undone!</div> - <div class="i0">Let hair-pins lose their virtue; let the hook</div> - <div class="i0">Disdain the fascination of the eye—</div> - <div class="i0">The bashful button modestly evade</div> - <div class="i0">The soft embraces of the button-hole!</div> - <div class="i0">Let old associations all dissolve,</div> - <div class="i0">Let Swan secede from Edgar—Gask from Gask—</div> - <div class="i0">Sewell from Cross—Lewis from Allenby!</div> - <div class="i0">In other words, let Chaos come again!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>A large number of miscellaneous parodies -remain to be noticed, a few of the best will be -given in full; of the remainder it will be sufficient -to indicate the works in which they occur, as -they are readily accessible.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">Some time ago <em>Funny Folks</em> remarked:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The Laureate ought to add a verse to his famous lay of -the Six Hundred. It seems that whenever one of the immortal -brigade dies, a couple of recruits, at least, appear and -fill his place. There are already far more living claimants -to the glory of participating in the famous charge than ever -took part in it.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"When can their glory fade,</div> - <div class="i1">If from the Light Brigade</div> - <div class="i2">When <span class="smcapa">ONE</span> is sundered,</div> - <div class="i1">Two will his place supply,</div> - <div class="i1">Ready to multiply</div> - <div class="i2">Still the Six Hundred?"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And in a somewhat similar manner parodies -on this famous poem seem to start up on every -hand. One, not yet mentioned, appeared in -<em>Figaro</em>, November 29, 1876.</p> - -<p>Another anonymous parody of the same -original, called "The Charge of the Tight -Brigade," though rather smart, is too slangy in -its language to be inserted.</p> - -<p>The following has been sent by Mr. James -Dykes Campbell, who states that it was current -in the Oxford colleges about twenty years ago. -The author's name is not known.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> G<span class="smcapa">OWNSMEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Reminiscence of the Anti-Tobacco Lecture.</em></p> - -<p class="center">(The Metre has been kindly lent for the occasion by -the Poet Laureate).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To the "Star," through the "Star,"</div> - <div class="i0">Up the "Star" staircase—</div> - <div class="i0">Into the Assembly Room,</div> - <div class="i4">Crowded the Gownsmen.</div> - <div class="i0">Some one cried, "Chaff the cad!"</div> - <div class="i0">Forward they went like mad—</div> - <div class="i0">None knew exactly why—</div> - <div class="i0">All wished a lark to try—</div> - <div class="i0">E'en 'neath the Proctor's eye—</div> - <div class="i2">Into the Assembly Room.</div> - <div class="i4">On went the Gownsmen.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Baccy to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">'Baccy to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">'Baccy in front of them,</div> - <div class="i4">Densely surrounds men!</div> - <div class="i0">Howled at by cad and scout,</div> - <div class="i0">Ordered by Proctors out,</div> - <div class="i0">Still they pressed onwards well,</div> - <div class="i0">Raising a stifling smell,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the "Star" Hotel,</div> - <div class="i2">To the Assembly Room,</div> - <div class="i4">Hastened the Gownsmen.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Flashed every weed alight,</div> - <div class="i0">Showed every gownsman fight,</div> - <div class="i0">Hitting to left and right,</div> - <div class="i0">Checking the Proctor, and</div> - <div class="i4">Milling the Townsmen.</div> - <div class="i0">Flew Academic blows,</div> - <div class="i0">Smashing the civic nose,</div> - <div class="i0">Strong was the smoke, and thick,</div> - <div class="i0">Making the Lect'rer sick—</div> - <div class="i2">Then from the Assembly Room,</div> - <div class="i3">Down the stairs, down the stairs,</div> - <div class="i4">Bolted the Gownsmen!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Peelers to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Proctors to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Pro.'s on the rear of them,</div> - <div class="i4">Mingled with Townsmen!</div> - <div class="i0">Out of the "Star Hotel",</div> - <div class="i0">Those who had smoked so well,</div> - <div class="i0">Thro' the Turl—through the High</div> - <div class="i4">Mizzled the Gownsmen!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Still shall the tale be told,</div> - <div class="i0">When Private Halls are old,</div> - <div class="i0">How was that Lect'rer sold</div> - <div class="i4">By the fierce Gownsmen!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I am indebted to the courtesy of an unknown -correspondent for the following parody, which -was recited by Major Wilson after a banquet -given in honor of the Anniversary of the Birth of -Robert Burns, at the Caledonian Club, Leadville, -Colorado:—</p> - - -<h3>"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span> B<span class="smcapa">ALLET</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Half a leg, half a leg,</div> - <div class="i0">Half a leg onward,</div> - <div class="i0">All before the foot-lights</div> - <div class="i0">Danced the one hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Crash went the German band.</div> - <div class="i0">Supes strew'd the stage with sand;</div> - <div class="i0">All before the foot-lights</div> - <div class="i0">Danced the one hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Forward, the light ballet!"</div> - <div class="i0">Was there a coryphée</div> - <div class="i0">Who couldn't help feeling</div> - <div class="i0">Some one had blundered?</div> - <div class="i0">Turned on the calcium light,</div> - <div class="i0">Glittered each spangled tight,</div> - <div class="i0">Kicked they with main and might;</div> - <div class="i0">All before the foot-lights</div> - <div class="i0">Danced the one hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Bald heads to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Bald heads to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Bald heads in front of them</div> - <div class="i0">Shouted and thundered;</div> - <div class="i0">Cynosures of every eye,</div> - <div class="i0">Boldly they kicked and high,</div> - <div class="i0">Regardless of life and limb,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the very sky</div> - <div class="i0">Kicked the one hundred,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flashed all their fleshings bare,</div> - <div class="i0">Flashed as they turned in air,</div> - <div class="i0">Crazing the bald heads there,</div> - <div class="i0">In orchestra chair, while</div> - <div class="i0">All the house wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">On light, fantastic toe,</div> - <div class="i0">Pirouette and <em>pas de Seaux</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">Premier and coryphée</div> - <div class="i0">Reeled from the vertigo,</div> - <div class="i0">Shattered and sundered,</div> - <div class="i0">And then they danced back,</div> - <div class="i0">But not—not the one hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Bald heads to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Bald heads to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Bald heads in front of them</div> - <div class="i0">Shouted and thundered;</div> - <div class="i0">Bravoed the <em>dilettante</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">While each old Bonfanti,</div> - <div class="i0">With split raiment and scanty,</div> - <div class="i0">Danced back from the jaws of death,</div> - <div class="i0">Back from the—(see Dante),</div> - <div class="i0">All that was left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Left of one hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When can their glory fade?</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, the high kicks they made!</div> - <div class="i0">All the house wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Fling up your big bouquet,</div> - <div class="i0">Bald-headed Y. M. C. A.!</div> - <div class="i0">Honour the light ballet,</div> - <div class="i0">Noble one hundred!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From <em>The Carbonate Chronicle</em>, Leadville, Colorado, -January 27, 1883.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">RAGIC</span> E<span class="smcapa">PISODE IN AN</span> O<span class="smcapa">MNIBUS</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(Charged to the Poet Laureate.)</p> - -<p class="center"><em>Night Scene—Last City 'bus, chock full of people. Enter—Very -stout old gentleman.</em></p> - -<p class="center">(Related by an eye witness.)</p> - - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><span class="fone">I.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Half a yard, half a yard,</div> - <div class="i1">Half a yard onward,</div> - <div class="i0">All through that narrow way,</div> - <div class="i0">Gasping and out of breath, yet never ponder'd!</div> - <div class="i0">"Right, Bill," the 'bus cad said,</div> - <div class="i0">"'Bout time we were in bed."</div> - <div class="i1">All through that narrow way</div> - <div class="i0">Still he strode onward.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><span class="fone">II.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Though light began to fade,</div> - <div class="i0">Was there a man dismayed?</div> - <div class="i0">Not tho' each row well knew</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Some one</em> had blunder'd;</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs not to make reply,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs not to reason why,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs to sit tight and try</div> - <div class="i0">To look stouter, broad, and high,</div> - <div class="i1">As <em>he</em> came onward.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><span class="fone">III.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sneerers to right of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Frowners to left of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Scowlers in front of him,</div> - <div class="i1">Curses a hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Words that no man could spell,</div> - <div class="i0">Boldly strove he and well,</div> - <div class="i0">All through that narrow way,</div> - <div class="i0">Tumbling about pell-mell,</div> - <div class="i1">Still on he wander'd.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> - <div class="i8"><span class="fone">IV.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To threats he gave no care,</div> - <div class="i0">Worrying the poor man there,</div> - <div class="i0">As standing he eyed them, while</div> - <div class="i1">The 'bus rolled and thundered.</div> - <div class="i0">Wrap't in his dark, brown cloak,</div> - <div class="i0">Right through that line he broke,</div> - <div class="i0">'Twas then that boot and shoe</div> - <div class="i0">Thought it a feeble joke—</div> - <div class="i1">Corns nearly sundered!</div> - <div class="i0">For he turned back again,</div> - <div class="i1">Seeing he'd blunder'd.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><span class="fone">V.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sneerers to right of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Frowners to left of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Scowlers behind him,</div> - <div class="i1">Curses a hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Words that no man could spell,</div> - <div class="i0">How he got out no one can tell;</div> - <div class="i0">Back through that narrow way,</div> - <div class="i0">Back from that beastly sell,</div> - <div class="i0">Moaning the toil and time,</div> - <div class="i1">Unwittingly squandered.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><span class="fone">VI.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Can his bumps be repaid?</div> - <div class="i0">Won't he be ever afraid</div> - <div class="i1">Of 'busses? I wondered!</div> - <div class="i0">Honour the try he made,</div> - <div class="i0">Honour the stones he weighed,</div> - <div class="i1">As he limped homeward.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From "Cribbings from the Poets" (Jones and Piggott, -Cambridge, 1883.)</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>On page 38 a parody entitled <em>The Doctor's -Heavy Brigade</em> was inserted, with a note that the -author's name was not known. I have been -pleased to receive the information that these -clever verses were written by a Scotch poet -whose name I am not at liberty to mention, and -appeared in <em>The Scotsman</em> about ten years ago.</p> - -<p>The following <em>apropos</em> composition, which has -never before been printed, is from the same pen.</p> - -<p>Tennyson's original poem commences—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease,</div> - <div class="i1">Within this region I subsist,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose spirits falter in the mist,</div> - <div class="i0">And languish for the purple seas?"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And concludes—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Yet waft me from the harbour-mouth,</div> - <div class="i1">Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky,</div> - <div class="i1">And I will see before I die</div> - <div class="i0">The Palms and Temples of the South."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AUREATE IN</span> P<span class="smcapa">ARLIAMENT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You ask me why, though ill at ease,</div> - <div class="i1">I sit among those Vere de Veres,</div> - <div class="i1">I used to curse in former years,</div> - <div class="i0">Pooh-poohing all their pedigrees.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">My answer's plain as it is true,</div> - <div class="i1">Although of just and old renown,</div> - <div class="i1">My fame is flattening slowly down,</div> - <div class="i0">And yieldeth not its wonted due.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">This state of things I can't afford.</div> - <div class="i1">My dramas and my later lays</div> - <div class="i1">Have brought me neither pence nor praise.</div> - <div class="i0">And, after all, a lord's a lord</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And so I joined the upper set,</div> - <div class="i1">I know the seasons, when to take</div> - <div class="i1">Macmillan by the hand, and make</div> - <div class="i0">My poems fly far wider yet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I speak not of my works to you</div> - <div class="i1">Who have them—they shall further go,</div> - <div class="i1">The many-headed beast shall know,</div> - <div class="i0">That he must learn to read them too.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet blame me not for pride or pelf,</div> - <div class="i1">I've royal blood, the heralds say,</div> - <div class="i1">Insisting on it, yea or nay.</div> - <div class="i0">(I never heard of it myself).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And, furthermore, you ought to know</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas not my doing, I was sent—</div> - <div class="i1">The Premier ordered me, I went;</div> - <div class="i0">What man can stay when he says "Go?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'd vote for some august decree</div> - <div class="i1">Strong as the fabled towers of Ilium,</div> - <div class="i1">Broad-based upon the people's William!</div> - <div class="i0">Do anything, he asked of me!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Well, yes, the House <em>is</em> dull, but still</div> - <div class="i1">A useful haunt, where sitting down,</div> - <div class="i1">(Extremely handy when in town)</div> - <div class="i0">A man may eat the thing he will.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I only said, the House was dreary!</div> - <div class="i1">Wit cometh not, with help to keep</div> - <div class="i1">One's eyes awake; but I can sleep</div> - <div class="i0">Like others there that grow aweary!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I hold it true whate'er befall.</div> - <div class="i1">That, though in bed more quiet kept,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis better to have sat and slept</div> - <div class="i0">Than never to have slept at all.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But yet should faction gather head,</div> - <div class="i1">Till by degrees to fullness wrought,</div> - <div class="i1">Men speak much louder than they ought;</div> - <div class="i0">I'll take the train, and go to bed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yes, waft me from the brainless mouth,</div> - <div class="i1">Wild wind! I seek a calmer sky,</div> - <div class="i1">And I will reach before I die</div> - <div class="i0">My old home island in the South!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEER</span> W<span class="smcapa">OMEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>With Apologies to the Poet Laureate.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">READ</span>, before mine eyelids dropt their shade,</div> - <div class="i1">The last romance from M<span class="smcapa">UDIE'S</span> lately writ</div> - <div class="i0">By one who is considered—in the trade—</div> - <div class="i3">The flower of female wit.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Miss B<span class="smcapa">LANK</span>, the famous writer, whose wild way</div> - <div class="i1">Of fiction-weaving was the first to fill</div> - <div class="i0">The startled times of good V<span class="smcapa">ICTORIA</span></div> - <div class="i3">With ghosts which haunt them still.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> - <div class="i0">And for awhile I tumbled on my bed,</div> - <div class="i1">Her Art from slumber held me, as strong gales</div> - <div class="i0">Hold driven birds from lighting, and my head,</div> - <div class="i3">Chock-full of her strange tales.</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">Sudden I heard a voice that cried, "Come here!</div> - <div class="i3">I want to look at you."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I, turning, saw, curled in an easy chair,</div> - <div class="i1">One sitting well wrapped up, as if from cold,</div> - <div class="i0">Her cheeks were peachy, and her fluffy hair</div> - <div class="i3">Was of the tawny gold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She, flashing forth a Circe smile, began:</div> - <div class="i1">"I murdered men for fun—it was my trade;</div> - <div class="i0">But, oh, 'tis long since I have slain a man.</div> - <div class="i3">Once, panther-like I played</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"With many husbands, and then shed their blood,</div> - <div class="i1">But life in this dim place is vastly slow;</div> - <div class="i0">I have no men to murder in my mood—</div> - <div class="i3">That makes my only woe!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The men, my lovers, how they bowed their necks</div> - <div class="i1">'Neath the neat boots wherewith my feet were shod!</div> - <div class="i0">I witched them, and the sturdiest of the sex</div> - <div class="i3">Were vassals to my nod.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"At last the sly detective tracked me down;</div> - <div class="i1">I tried to coax <em>him</em>, but the brute was cold.</div> - <div class="i0">They found the last poor fool I tried to drown,</div> - <div class="i3">And for the rest—behold!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With that she tore her robe apart, and half</div> - <div class="i1">The polished ivory of her shoulders grand</div> - <div class="i0">Laid bare. Thereto she pointed with a laugh,</div> - <div class="i3">Showing the convict's brand.</div> - <div class="i3">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - <div class="i8">From <em>Punch</em>, October 12, 1878.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> F<span class="smcapa">AIR</span> W<span class="smcapa">OMEN AND</span> O<span class="smcapa">THERS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I read, before such things had lost their spice,</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Les Jolies Femmes de Paris</em>—a sweet work,</div> - <div class="i0">Devoted to the furtherance of vice—</div> - <div class="i1">A sort of Devil's <em>Burke</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A scroll of fame and frailty that includes</div> - <div class="i1">All Hamadryads that have ever shone,</div> - <div class="i0">And nymphs who sell the Satyrs, in the woods</div> - <div class="i1">Of Boulogne and St. John.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And for awhile the study of those plates,</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein the sylvan beauties were portrayed,</div> - <div class="i0">Lifted my soul across the Dover straits,</div> - <div class="i1">Without a Boyton's aid.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then swiftly rose another Voice, and burst:</div> - <div class="i1">"Aye, let them troll your ditties and applaud;—</div> - <div class="i0">'Twas I, Madame, preceded you, I first</div> - <div class="i1">Called poetry a fraud.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I was Thérésa, and I saw what 'took,'</div> - <div class="i1">Dropped art, dropped passion; knew you'd had enough;</div> - <div class="i0">The amorous <em>Sapeur</em> cozening a cook</div> - <div class="i1">Was all my lay of love.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And court and street took up the strains in glee;</div> - <div class="i1">I sang to Cæsar, sang to prince and priest,</div> - <div class="i0">And in the palace of the Medici</div> - <div class="i1">Roared <em>Le Petit Ebeniste</em>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then clashed the cymbals, and the bugles blew,</div> - <div class="i1">Vague scents swarmed o'er the visionary stage;</div> - <div class="i0">A soft sweet shape arose. We looked and knew</div> - <div class="i1">The Darling of the age.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She spoke no word, she had no need to speak;</div> - <div class="i1">Who could withstand the sorceress—who compete?</div> - <div class="i0">We knew that matchless smile, and that unique</div> - <div class="i1">Allurement of the feet;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The way so womanly, and yet so bold;</div> - <div class="i1">Her eyes so frank, her gestures so profane;</div> - <div class="i0">Her step so light—Ah! no need to be told—</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Voici La Belle Helene</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Evohe, la belle Hélène, fair and fat,</div> - <div class="i1">And forty, though they say you are, Time's touch</div> - <div class="i0">Lies soft upon your plumpness—and of that,</div> - <div class="i1">Say, <em>can</em> one have too much?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh no, my liege, my gracious Grande Duchesse,</div> - <div class="i1">However variously our ways incline,</div> - <div class="i0">You find us all before your sweet address,</div> - <div class="i1">Natives of Gérolstein.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>This poem proceeds to describe, at considerable -length, the leading actresses then appearing -in the Paris theatres and music halls.</p> - -<p class="center">From <em>Edward VII.</em>, 1876.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Another parody of the same poem appeared -in <em>The World</em>, July 23, 1879, from which a few -verses are quoted:—</p> - - -<h3>A D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> F<span class="smcapa">AIR</span> W<span class="smcapa">OMEN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"D<span class="smcapa">REAMING</span>, methought I heard the Laureate's song</div> - <div class="i1">Of fairest women linked with deeds of shame,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose burning loves of insult and of wrong</div> - <div class="i1">Were anguish-paths to fame.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And for a while their sad looks haunt my dream;</div> - <div class="i1">Then the night-visions slowly fade away,</div> - <div class="i0">And fairer faces in the warm light gleam—</div> - <div class="i1">The beauties of to-day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And around one, supreme in perfect grace,</div> - <div class="i1">Princes bow down, and nobles gather nigh;</div> - <div class="i0">And crowds afar off gaze upon her face,</div> - <div class="i1">Contented there to sigh.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Then o'er my dream a daintier figure came,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose voice was music, and her gesture grace</div> - <div class="i0">The fire of genius frets her tender frame,</div> - <div class="i1">And lights her girlish face.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"In foreign tones she murmurs, 'O, the bliss</div> - <div class="i1">Of art that triumphs on a perfect stage;</div> - <div class="i0">The thunders of applause, and e'en the hiss</div> - <div class="i1">That tells of Envy's rage!'"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A parody on the same original, entitled <em>A -Dream of Great Players</em> (in reference to Lawn -Tennis) appeared, on the 13th February, 1884, in -<em>Pastime</em>, an ably conducted journal, devoted to -out-door games and recreations. Unlike most -of the sporting papers, <em>Pastime</em> has a distinctly -literary tone, and publishes, from time to time, -clever parodies of our modern poets. Two have -appeared on Tennyson's blank verse, the first -(June 29, 1883), entitled <em>A Fragment of the Lost -Tennisiad;</em> the second, which was much longer, -appeared in the number for July 27, 1883, and -commenced thus:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AY OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">EVENTH</span> T<span class="smcapa">OURNAMENT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All the long week Lawn-tennis balls had rolled</div> - <div class="i0">On the green sward beside the echoing line,</div> - <div class="i0">Until the last and stateliest of the crowd</div> - <div class="i0">Of players there competing, Donald Stewart,</div> - <div class="i0">Had fallen at Wimbledon before his foe,</div> - <div class="i0">Ernest: the last, because his skill was great,</div> - <div class="i0">They hailed the winner of the All-comers' prize.</div> - <div class="i0">And graced with large reward and honour meet.</div> - <div class="i0">One struggle yet remained,—Ernest with William,</div> - <div class="i0">Renshaw with Renshaw, must at last contend,</div> - <div class="i0">Equal alike in name and age,—well matched</div> - <div class="i0">In strength and skill,—there lightly-clad they stood,</div> - <div class="i0">Brother confronting brother,—and the net</div> - <div class="i0">Betwixt them. High above them blazed</div> - <div class="i0">The goblet, carved with curious imagery,</div> - <div class="i0">Unknown save to the initiate, but to these</div> - <div class="i0">Pregnant with meaning, mystic, magical,</div> - <div class="i0">Prize of the great Lawn-tennis championship,</div> - <div class="i0">Which in its deep capacious womb concealed</div> - <div class="i0">A thirsty man's allowance long withheld:</div> - <div class="i0">This twice had William gained in equal fight,</div> - <div class="i0">Winner of two successive tournaments;</div> - <div class="i0">And, could he claim the prize but once again,</div> - <div class="i0">'Twere his for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Therefore hither came</div> - <div class="i0">From Wimbledon and Putney, and the lands</div> - <div class="i0">Which lie across the silver stream of Thames,</div> - <div class="i0">From far Tyburnia and Belgravian halls,</div> - <div class="i0">The strength and manhood of our lusty youth,</div> - <div class="i0">The grace and beauty of our matchless maids,</div> - <div class="i0">Clothed in rich raiment flashing on the sward</div> - <div class="i0">In hues that mocked the butterfly, and made</div> - <div class="i0">The rainbow colourless—satin and silk,</div> - <div class="i0">Cambric, and lawn, and muslin virginal:</div> - <div class="i0">Haply, there also whatsoe'er of strange</div> - <div class="i0">Elise, or Worth, or Harberton devise,</div> - <div class="i0">The wizards of adornment,—mystic shapes</div> - <div class="i0">Dual or indivisible,—the awed bard</div> - <div class="i0">Shrinks into silence.</div> - <div class="i2">* * * * *</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ACHELOR'S</span> R<span class="smcapa">ETURN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Vere de Vere-isimilitude.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">M<span class="smcapa">RS</span>. B<span class="smcapa">IGGS</span>, of Brunswick Square,</div> - <div class="i1">On me you shall no more impose.</div> - <div class="i0">You said I wanted change of air;</div> - <div class="i1">My books, my desk, you bade me close;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You raved about my "precious 'elth."</div> - <div class="i1">Has conscience, Mrs. B., no twinges?</div> - <div class="i0">You wouldn't lose me for the wealth,</div> - <div class="i1">You told me "not of all the Injies."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square,</div> - <div class="i1">Though I had work upon my hands,</div> - <div class="i0">I grew alarmed: oppressed with care,</div> - <div class="i1">I sought repose on Ramsgate sands.</div> - <div class="i0">Returned at last, I chanced to cast</div> - <div class="i1">A glance into my chiffonier.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, Mrs. B., your dodge I see!—</div> - <div class="i1">While I've been gone you've drunk my beer!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square,</div> - <div class="i1">You put strange memories in my head,—</div> - <div class="i0">That currant jam!—I'd almost swear</div> - <div class="i1">I'd half-a-dozen pots of red.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, your sweet child! On him I smiled</div> - <div class="i1">Benignly; but it seemed to me</div> - <div class="i0">That he had smears across his face</div> - <div class="i1">Which I was hardly pleased to see.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square,</div> - <div class="i1">You've used up all my choice Pekoe;</div> - <div class="i0">My sherry's gone; and where, oh where</div> - <div class="i1">Is that half-flask of curaçoa?</div> - <div class="i0">Of brandy, too, I'm quite bereft:</div> - <div class="i1">The bottle's dry, and—oh, my stars!</div> - <div class="i0">This ends what patience I had left—</div> - <div class="i1">You've smoked up all my best cigars!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick Square,</div> - <div class="i1">Some meeker lodger you must find;</div> - <div class="i0">Though good apartments may be rare,</div> - <div class="i1">To quit you I've made up my mind.</div> - <div class="i0">You held your course without remorse,</div> - <div class="i1">To make me trust you with my keys,</div> - <div class="i0">But when on you my back was turned,</div> - <div class="i1">You needs must play such pranks as these.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Mrs. Biggs, of Brunswick square,</div> - <div class="i1">If rooms be vacant on your hands,</div> - <div class="i0">If footsteps sound not on your stair,</div> - <div class="i1">And tenantless your mansion stands,</div> - <div class="i0">Go, teach that orphan girl you call</div> - <div class="i1">Eliza,—she who cleans the boots,—</div> - <div class="i0">The awful fate which waits for all</div> - <div class="i1">Who steal their lodgers' best cheroots.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">A. P. S<span class="smcapa">INNETT</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From <em>Tom Hood's Comic Annual</em>, 1871.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>A parody of the May Queen, entitled <em>The -Premier's Lament</em>, appeared in <em>The Evening News</em>, -of February 18, 1884, ridiculing Mr. Gladstone -for his policy in Egypt, and foretelling defeat as -probable in the then pending vote of censure. -The parody had no literary merit.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">IT FOR</span> T<span class="smcapa">AT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">E</span> were two children in one house,</div> - <div class="i0">She was as meek as the mildest mouse,</div> - <div class="i2">The time had come for a midnight spree!</div> - <div class="i0">When we were over our jokes and wine,</div> - <div class="i0">She scattered horse-hair chopped up fine.</div> - <div class="i2">O! the girl was fair to see!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> - <div class="i0">She laughed well-pleased with what she'd done,</div> - <div class="i0">She played the dreadful trick for fun.</div> - <div class="i2">The time had come for a midnight spree!</div> - <div class="i0">I lay awake! and struck a match,</div> - <div class="i0">For didn't the horrible horse-hair scratch.</div> - <div class="i2">O! the girl was fair to see!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I made a vow! I laid a snare!</div> - <div class="i0">And crept quite softly up the stair,</div> - <div class="i2">The hour had come for a midnight spree!</div> - <div class="i0">And after dinner from her bed</div> - <div class="i0">I stole the pillow for her head.</div> - <div class="i2">O! the girl was fair to see!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I took the dredger full of flour,</div> - <div class="i0">The pillow powdered for an hour;</div> - <div class="i2">The time had come for a midnight spree!</div> - <div class="i0">I hated her for her cruel sell,</div> - <div class="i0">She loved her tresses passing well.</div> - <div class="i2">O! the girl was fair to see!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She slept serenely all that night,</div> - <div class="i0">But woke up in a dreadful fright;</div> - <div class="i2">The time had come for a midnight spree!</div> - <div class="i0">When half awake she neared the glass,</div> - <div class="i0">She uttered naughty words, alas!</div> - <div class="i2">O! the girl was fair to see!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She brush'd and comb'd her floury head,</div> - <div class="i0">"I'll never get it out," she said,</div> - <div class="i2">The time had come for a midnight spree!</div> - <div class="i0">My deep revenge she'll not forget</div> - <div class="i0">I think she may be brushing yet!</div> - <div class="i2">O! the girl was fair to see!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">From <em>Fun</em>, February 1, 1868.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>The same journal also contained, December 16th, 1872, -<em>Papa's Theory</em> (after A. Tenny..n); and, May 7, 1876, -<em>Home They Brought the Gallant Red</em>—(croquet.)</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>George Cruikshank's <em>Omnibus</em>, published in -1842, contains on page 260 some pertinent remarks -on Parody. "It is essential, says E. P. W., -to the full effect of a parody, that the original -should be familiar to the reader. Now, several -parodies we have received possess that advantage, -thus we have half-a-dozen parodies on "Gray's -Elegy," suggested by the conflagration at the -Tower, and a like number of variations of the -"Beggar's Petition;" but although these originals -are well known, we pass their parodies by in -favour of one upon Tennyson's 'Mariana at the -Moated Grange,' entitled"—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">LERK</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With black coal-dust the walls and floor</div> - <div class="i1">Were thickly coated, one and all;</div> - <div class="i0">On rusty hinges swung the door</div> - <div class="i1">That open'd to the gloomy wall;</div> - <div class="i0">The broken chairs looked dull and dark,</div> - <div class="i1">Undusted was the mantel-piece,</div> - <div class="i1">And deeply-speck'd with spots of grease</div> - <div class="i0">Within the chamber of the clerk.</div> - <div class="i0">He only said "I'm very weary</div> - <div class="i1">With living in this ditch;"</div> - <div class="i0">He said, "I am confounded dreary,</div> - <div class="i1">I would that I were rich."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft5">*</span> <span class="mleft5">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">About six fathoms from the wall,</div> - <div class="i1">A blackened chimney (much askew)</div> - <div class="i0">Smoked in his face—and round and small</div> - <div class="i1">The chimney-pots destroyed his view,</div> - <div class="i0">Hard by—a popular highway,</div> - <div class="i1">With coal-dust turned to pitchy dark,</div> - <div class="i1">Where many a little dog doth bark—</div> - <div class="i0">Some black, some mottled, many grey.</div> - <div class="i1">He said, "My life is very dreary,</div> - <div class="i0">With living in this ditch;"</div> - <div class="i1">He said, "I am fatigued and weary,</div> - <div class="i0">I would that I were rich."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The two other verses of this parody have no -great merit, and, indeed, the above are only -quoted to show that more than forty years ago -there was an outcry about the wretched habitations -of our London poor.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">UGLE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG</span>.</h3> - -<p>[At the commencement of the Wagnerian performances at -Bayreuth, the chief <em>motivo</em> in the opera was given out by -several bugles, after which the curtain rose.]</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The bugle calls in Bayreuth's halls</div> - <div class="i1">Some notes of Wagner's mythic story;</div> - <div class="i0">The tenor shakes, the heroine quakes,</div> - <div class="i1">And the wild Teuton leaps in glory.</div> - <div class="i0">Blow, bugles, blow, set the wild echoes flying,</div> - <div class="i0">Echoes of Melody, ye answer, "Dying, dying."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O hark! O hear! how thin and clear,</div> - <div class="i1">With no perspiring players showing;</div> - <div class="i0">O sweet and far from bar to bar</div> - <div class="i1">The horns and trumpets faintly blowing.</div> - <div class="i0">Blow—let us hear composers' ghosts replying;</div> - <div class="i0">Blow, Wagner, blow, while Melody is dying.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Sweet tunes," they cry, "you shall not die,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor fade from hill, and field, and river,</div> - <div class="i0">But sweetly roll from soul to soul,</div> - <div class="i1">And gladden music lovers ever."</div> - <div class="i0">Blow, bugles, blow, set the wild echoes flying,</div> - <div class="i0">But Melody still answers—"Never dying."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">From <em>Funny Folks</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> I<span class="smcapa">RWELL</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I flow by tainted noisome spots,</div> - <div class="i1">A dark and deadly river;</div> - <div class="i0">Foul gases my forget-me-nots,</div> - <div class="i1">Which haunt the air for ever.</div> - <div class="i0">I grow, I glide, I slip, I slide,</div> - <div class="i1">I mock your poor endeavour;</div> - <div class="i0">For men may write, and men may talk,</div> - <div class="i1">But I reek on for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> - <div class="i0">I reek with all my might and main,</div> - <div class="i1">Of plague and death the brewer;</div> - <div class="i0">With here and there a nasty drain,</div> - <div class="i1">And here and there a sewer.</div> - <div class="i0">By fetid bank, impure and rank,</div> - <div class="i1">I swirl a loathsome river;</div> - <div class="i0">For men may write, and men may talk,</div> - <div class="i1">But I'll reek on for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I grew, I glode, I slipped, I slode,</div> - <div class="i1">My pride I left behind me;</div> - <div class="i0">I left it in my pure abode—</div> - <div class="i1">Now take me as you find me.</div> - <div class="i0">For black as ink, from many a sink,</div> - <div class="i1">I roll a poisonous river;</div> - <div class="i0">And men may write, and men may talk,</div> - <div class="i1">But I'll reek on for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And thus my vengeance, still I seek</div> - <div class="i1">Foul drain, and not a river;</div> - <div class="i0">My breath is strong, though I am weak,</div> - <div class="i1">Death floats on me for ever.</div> - <div class="i0">You still may fight, or may unite</div> - <div class="i1">To use your joint endeavour;</div> - <div class="i0">But I'll be "boss," in spite of Cross,</div> - <div class="i1">And poison you for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4"><em>The City Lantern</em>, Manchester, 1874.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>THE BAGGAGE MAN.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> many a curve the trunks I pitch,</div> - <div class="i3">With many a shout and sally;</div> - <div class="i2">At station, siding, crossing, switch,</div> - <div class="i3">On mountain-grade or valley.</div> - <div class="i2">I heave, I push, I sling, I toss,</div> - <div class="i3">With vigorous endeavour,</div> - <div class="i2">And men may smile and men grow cross,</div> - <div class="i3">But I sling my trunks forever!</div> - <div class="i6">Ever! ever!</div> - <div class="i3">I bust the trunks for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">The paper trunk from country town</div> - <div class="i3">I balances and dandles;</div> - <div class="i2">I turn it once or twice around,</div> - <div class="i3">And pull out both the handles,</div> - <div class="i2">And grumble over travelling-bags</div> - <div class="i3">And monstrous sample-cases;</div> - <div class="i2">But I can smash the maker's brags</div> - <div class="i3">Like plaster-Paris vases,</div> - <div class="i2">They holler, holler, as I go;</div> - <div class="i3">But they can stop me never,</div> - <div class="i2">For they will learn just what I know—</div> - <div class="i3">A trunk won't last forever;</div> - <div class="i6">Ever! never!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">I tug, I jerk, I swear, I sweat,</div> - <div class="i3">I toss the light valises;</div> - <div class="i2">And what's too big to throw, you bet,</div> - <div class="i3">I'll fire it round in pieces.</div> - <div class="i2">They murmur, murmur everywhere;</div> - <div class="i3">But I will heed them never,</div> - <div class="i2">For women weep and strong men swear,</div> - <div class="i3">I'll sling their trunks forever!</div> - <div class="i6">Ever! ever!</div> - <div class="i2">I'll bust the trunk forever!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From the United States <em>Independent</em>, September, 1881.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>After the defeat of Colonel Burnaby, and the -Hon, A. C. Calthorpe, at the last Birmingham -election, the following parody appeared in <em>The -Gridiron</em>, a local satirical paper.</p> - -<p>The dashing Colonel's testimony in favour of -Cockle's pills was the cause of many jokes at -his expense in the election squibs. Messrs. -Stone and Lowe were prominent members of -the Birmingham Conservative party.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Home they brought the news with dread!</div> - <div class="i1">He nor swore nor uttered cry:</div> - <div class="i0">His committee watching said,</div> - <div class="i1">He must weep, or he will die.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Then they praised him, Stone and Lowe,</div> - <div class="i1">And called him worthy to be loved,</div> - <div class="i0">Jingo's friend and Gladstone's foe,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet he neither swore nor moved.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Rose up Calthorpe from his place,</div> - <div class="i1">Lightly to the warrior crept,</div> - <div class="i0">Made a speech all full of grace,</div> - <div class="i1">But he neither swore nor wept.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Rose a man of ninety years,</div> - <div class="i1">Placed a pill-box on his knee,</div> - <div class="i0">Like summer tempest came his tears,</div> - <div class="i1">"Cockle mine, thou'st done for me!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>H<span class="smcapa">ARD</span> T<span class="smcapa">IMES</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(A Parody of <em>The Grandmother.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A<span class="smcapa">ND</span> so your prosperous days have passed away from you, John;</div> - <div class="i0">And empty have grown your pockets, and all your customers gone;</div> - <div class="i0">And the Government still keep talking—they never were over-wise;</div> - <div class="i0">Never fit to rule you, John—but you wouldn't take my advice.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For, John, do you see, the Tories were never the men to save;</div> - <div class="i0">It doesn't look well to be mean while Britannia rules the wave:</div> - <div class="i0">Swagger enough—lots of swagger—but it all costs money, you know.</div> - <div class="i0">And so your grandfather found, John, some seventy years ago!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For I remember the troubles that vexed your grandfather, John,</div> - <div class="i0">Stripped every rag off his back, to the very shirt he had on;</div> - <div class="i0">It was all for England, and glory—but that cost money, you know—</div> - <div class="i0">Seventy years ago, John, seventy years ago.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And now you say it's the same, what with Afghanistan and Zulu,</div> - <div class="i0">And that darned American weather come over to bother you too;</div> - <div class="i0">'There won't be very much left me, if this sort of thing goes on;</div> - <div class="i0">And this is a time of peace—of peace with honour!' says John.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> - <div class="i0">'And all trade seems half dead, and the farmers can't pay their rent,</div> - <div class="i0">While the landlords are only too happy to give them back twenty per cent.</div> - <div class="i0">Farmers!—and pay no rent? Well, the rent perhaps could be borne,</div> - <div class="i0">But giving back twenty per cent. won't make up for American corn.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To be sure, Lord Beaconsfield says that we're an Imperial race,</div> - <div class="i0">And an unscientific frontier is really a sort of disgrace;</div> - <div class="i0">And Stafford and Holker—I hear them too—their voices are sweet,</div> - <div class="i0">But they can't very well expect <em>me</em> to get fat on American meat.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And to tell you the good plain truth, I never can quite understand</div> - <div class="i0">What it is Lord Beaconsfield means, or what he's got in his hand;</div> - <div class="i0">He conjures eggs out of his hat, he keeps fireworks under his bed,</div> - <div class="i0">I really am not always certain he's not going to stand on his head.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the Liberals make it their text as they go to the hustings, no doubt!</div> - <div class="i0">Even those who do nothing in office understand what to promise when out;</div> - <div class="i0">There wouldn't be waste any more—not enough to make meat for a mouse—</div> - <div class="i0">If Gladstone was at the Exchequer, and Hartington leading the House.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Pattering upon the platform—they'll all be pattering soon,</div> - <div class="i0">When Beaconsfield makes up his mind to dissolve them some fine afternoon,</div> - <div class="i0">I seem to be sick of it all—I know every word they'll say,</div> - <div class="i0">And perhaps it will come even sooner, for some are beginning to-day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So this is a time of peace—of peace with honour, you know;</div> - <div class="i0">And empty have grown my pockets—they never used to be so;</div> - <div class="i0">At least, not often, I think. I never was one to boast,</div> - <div class="i0">But I seem to be sick of it all—and of empty pockets the most.'</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">Prize parody from <em>The World</em>, November 19, 1879.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The second prize parody on the same topic -commenced thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">READ</span> has gone up again. Was that what you said to me, child?</div> - <div class="i0">Bread and coals gone up, and the weather wet and wild;</div> - <div class="i0">Bread gone up again, and cold and hunger severe;</div> - <div class="i0">An' me not knowing which way to turn, an' you but a child,</div> - <div class="i0">my dear.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Don't look at me that way, Mary, with eyes that plead for</div> - <div class="i0">bread—</div> - <div class="i0">O Lord, I could bear it well enough, if it only fell on my head!</div> - <div class="i0">But the child so weak and sickly, and me but an old man now,</div> - <div class="i0">Asking no better, though, Lord knows, than to work in the sweat of my brow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But work is not to be had, though I seek it from morning till night:</div> - <div class="i0">Not to be had by me; there are men who are younger, a sight;</div> - <div class="i0">Younger and stronger, too, who take what is to he had;</div> - <div class="i0">And bread has gone up and cold is sharp, and times is very bad.</div> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>At page 127 of <em>Snatches of Song</em>, by F. B. -Doveton (Wyman and Sons, 1880) will be found -another long parody of the same original.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>THE SPITEFUL LETTER.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Of course, it is here, all snarl and sneer,</div> - <div class="i1">A letter from my Tutor.</div> - <div class="i0">He said it was wrong, not to read in the "Long,"</div> - <div class="i1">For he was far acuter.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O little don, in the days bygone,</div> - <div class="i1">Did you never prefer the pages</div> - <div class="i0">Of those gay books—a woman's looks—</div> - <div class="i1">To the lore of Eastern sages?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Were there not times when College Rhymes</div> - <div class="i1">Relieved your mind dejected?</div> - <div class="i0">And were they not a sorry lot</div> - <div class="i1">Of things you had rejected?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The time is brief from the fresh green leaf</div> - <div class="i1">Of the callow moderator;</div> - <div class="i0">From the greener leaf to the yellow leaf,</div> - <div class="i1">The age of perambulator.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Silly, am I? Is that your cry?</div> - <div class="i1">And, I shall live to see it?</div> - <div class="i0">Exactly so; but yours said "No,"</div> - <div class="i1">And mine said "Yes, so be it."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And he would know who 'twas that so</div> - <div class="i1">Had filled my thoughts with folly,</div> - <div class="i0">And, oh! the name was the very same,</div> - <div class="i1">The name of our love was Molly.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>The Shotover Papers</em>, Oxford 1874.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In <em>Fun</em> of February 1, 1868, it was asked, -"Who sent <em>The Spiteful Letter</em> to Alfred -Tennyson?"</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"If anybody <em>did</em>—and nobody doubts that it really was -somebody—everybody ought to know about it. <em>Fun</em> has, -therefore, addressed a circular to everybody who is anybody -in the round of rhyme, putting the direct question—'Was it -you, you, or you?' Down to the latest moment answers had -been received from George Macdonald, the Poet Close, -Algernon Swinburne, and Walt Whitman."</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> - -<p>As the two last-named parodies are the best -they are quoted, although it will be seen that -they give not the slightest explanation of the -origin of <em>The Spiteful Letter:</em>—</p> - -<h3>F<span class="smcapa">ROM</span> A.....<span class="smcapa">N</span> S......<span class="smcapa">E</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sick of the perfume of praise, and faint with the fervid caresses,</div> - <div class="i0">Flushing his face with a flame that is fair, like the blood on a dove;</div> - <div class="i0">Weary of pangs that have pleased him, the poet refrains and confesses—</div> - <div class="i0">Shrinks from the rapture of death, and the lips and the languors of love;</div> - <div class="i0">The rootless rose of delight, and the love that lasts only to blossom,</div> - <div class="i0">Blossom and die without fruit, as the kisses that feed and not fill;</div> - <div class="i0">Famishing pleasure, dry-lipped, with the sting and the stain on her bosom,</div> - <div class="i0">And all of a sin that is good, and all of a good that is ill!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>(This explicit language of Mr. S......<span class="smcapa">E'S</span> will, we -are sure, be satisfactory to all our readers. No explanation -could make his reply clearer and more readily intelligible.—E<span class="smcapa">D.</span> -<em>Fun</em>.)</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>F<span class="smcapa">ROM</span> W..<span class="smcapa">T</span> W..<span class="smcapa">TM</span>..<span class="smcapa">N</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>An American, one of the roughs, a kosmos.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nature, continuous M<span class="smcapa">E</span>!</div> - <div class="i0">Saltness, and vigorous, never-torpid yeast of M<span class="smcapa">E</span>!</div> - <div class="i0">Florid, unceasing, for ever expansive;</div> - <div class="i0">Not schooled, not dizened, not washed and powdered;</div> - <div class="i0">Strait-laced not at all; far otherwise than polite;</div> - <div class="i0">Not modest, nor immodest;</div> - <div class="i0">Divinely tanned and freckled; gloriously unkempt;</div> - <div class="i0">Ultimate yet unceasing; capricious though determined;</div> - <div class="i0">Speak as thou listest, and tell the askers that which they seek to know.</div> - <div class="i0">Thy speech to them will be not quite intelligible.</div> - <div class="i0">Never mind! utter thy wild common-places;</div> - <div class="i0">Yawp them loudly, shrilly;</div> - <div class="i0">Silence with shrill noise the lisps of the foo-foos.</div> - <div class="i0">Answer in precise terms of barbaric vagueness,</div> - <div class="i0">The question that the <em>Fun</em> editor hath sparked through Atlantic cable</div> - <div class="i0">To W..<span class="smcapa">T</span> W..<span class="smcapa">TM..N</span>, the speaker of the password primeval;</div> - <div class="i0">The signaller of the signal of democracy;</div> - <div class="i0">The seer and hearer of things in general;</div> - <div class="i0">The poet translucent; fleshy, disorderly, sensually inclined;</div> - <div class="i0">Each tag and part of whom is a miracle——.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>(<em>Thirteen pages of MS. relating to</em> M<span class="smcapa">R</span>. W..<span class="smcapa">T</span> W..<span class="smcapa">TM</span>.<span class="smcapa">N</span> -<em>are here omitted</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Rhapsodically state the fact that is and is not;</div> - <div class="i0">That is not, being past; that is, being eternal;</div> - <div class="i0">If indeed it ever was, which is exactly the point in question.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>⁂ The fact, rhapsodically stated, occupies twenty-six -more pages of MS., but is left in as much doubt at the end -as it was in at the beginning.—Ed. <em>Fun</em>.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> U<span class="smcapa">NSUCCESSFUL</span> S<span class="smcapa">TOCK</span> E<span class="smcapa">XCHANGE</span> S<span class="smcapa">PECULATOR</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Apropos of certain recent failures</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Break, break, break!</div> - <div class="i1">It's a serious thing to see,</div> - <div class="i0">And I wish I could manage to utter</div> - <div class="i1">The cheques that are forged by me!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh well for the bill-broking cad</div> - <div class="i1">That is able to toddle away!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh well for the discounting lad</div> - <div class="i1">That goes to no Botany Bay!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The detective police go on,</div> - <div class="i1">To find him whose name's on the bill—</div> - <div class="i0">And it's oh for a whiff of Havannah brand,</div> - <div class="i1">And a glass of the wine that is still!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Break, break, break!</div> - <div class="i1">It's little of me you will see;</div> - <div class="i0">For the tender touch of detective's hand</div> - <div class="i1">May some day be felt by me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>Faust and 'Phisto</em>, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><em>Tithonus</em> was the subject of two long prize -parodies, concerning Lord Beaconsfield, which -appeared in <em>The World</em>, July 30, 1879.</p> - -<p>The opening stanzas of the first parody are -now of almost historical interest:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A<span class="smcapa">H</span> me! the times decay, and rent-rolls fall,</div> - <div class="i0">The farmers weep the burden of moist ground,</div> - <div class="i0">The men that back the field are out of luck.</div> - <div class="i0">For during such a summer where's the coin?</div> - <div class="i0">For me a wreath, prize of verbosity</div> - <div class="i0">Was made: it withers still in Tracy's hands.</div> - <div class="i0">For what to me this quiet Western world,</div> - <div class="i0">While shadows flit before me, like a dream</div> - <div class="i0">Of princely visits to the far-off East,</div> - <div class="i0">And costly gifts, and Empire's badges worn?</div> - <div class="i2">Alas for these gray tresses, once so black,</div> - <div class="i0">When, glorious in my youth, I was thy choice,</div> - <div class="i0">Britannia, and I seemed no vulgar clod</div> - <div class="i0">To thee, who taught'st me my verbosity.</div> - <div class="i0">Then, though the dull roughs met where'er they would,</div> - <div class="i0">Beat the Park palings down, and marred the flowers,</div> - <div class="i0">They could not end my rule; but left me still</div> - <div class="i0">To sit 'neath shade of thy Imperial shield—</div> - <div class="i0">Imperial locks beside Imperial shield—</div> - <div class="i0">Though all things else were ashes. Thy rich gift,</div> - <div class="i0">The Garter, made amends; but, Tracy, go;</div> - <div class="i0">I pray thee go; take back thy vulgar gift:</div> - <div class="i0">Why should the honest working man desire</div> - <div class="i0">To vary from the spendthrift race of men,</div> - <div class="i0">And part with hard-earned quarts of "fourpenny,"</div> - <div class="i0">Which good Sir Wilfrid calls the curse of all?</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the <em>The Shotover Papers</em>, page 181, will be -found, <em>Tithonus in Oxford</em>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The men come up, the men come up, go down.</div> - <div class="i0">The mighty Proctor prowls along the streets.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Dons come and plough the men, and let them through,</div> - <div class="i0">The unattached at length becomes B.A.</div> - <div class="i0">The only envious moderators</div> - <div class="i0">Will never pass. I linger through the terms</div> - <div class="i0">Here in the quiet Tavern's classic shades,</div> - <div class="i0">A bearded undergraduate, well nigh bald,</div> - <div class="i0">Roaming along the High, the Broad, the Corn,</div> - <div class="i0">Amidst new men, strange faces, other minds."</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AWYER'S</span> S<span class="smcapa">OLILOQUY</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I hold it clear, as one who sings</div> - <div class="i1">The party song in divers tones,</div> - <div class="i1">That men may rise on stepping stones</div> - <div class="i0">Of brazen speech to higher things."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This is the first of sixteen verses contained -in the <em>St. James's Gazette</em>, of June 18, 1881.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSONIAN</span> L<span class="smcapa">YRIC</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I hold this truth with one who sings</div> - <div class="i1">That when a donkey will not go,</div> - <div class="i1">The kick, the curse, the brutal blow</div> - <div class="i0">Should be exchanged for milder things.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But who that sees the donkey's ears</div> - <div class="i1">Droop downward, and his hind legs rise,</div> - <div class="i1">While from the creature's back he flies,</div> - <div class="i0">Can spare the lissom switch he bears?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Or who can smile when crowds condemn,</div> - <div class="i1">And ragamuffin imps deride,</div> - <div class="i1">Advising him to "get inside"</div> - <div class="i0">That product of Jerusalem?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Had I the brute that would not stir,</div> - <div class="i1">Despite "Gee-woa!" or "Kim-up, Ned!"</div> - <div class="i1">I should, methinks, use arts instead</div> - <div class="i0">Of supplemented provender.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">From <em>Funny Folks</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><em>Funny Folks</em> for January 23, 1875, contained a -parody, in ten verses, on <em>The Voyage;</em> the first -and last verse only are given, as the rest are of -little interest:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> E<span class="smcapa">XCURSION</span> T<span class="smcapa">RAIN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We left behind the painted buoy</div> - <div class="i1">That tosses at the harbour mouth;</div> - <div class="i0">And madly danced our hearts with joy</div> - <div class="i1">As fast we floated to the South.</div> - <div class="i10">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">OYAGE</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"We left behind the painted boy</div> - <div class="i1">Who tumbles at the gutter's mouth,</div> - <div class="i0">And madly leaped our hearts for joy</div> - <div class="i1">In taking tickets for the south;</div> - <div class="i0">To get away from smell and sound,</div> - <div class="i1">And crowded street and city roar,</div> - <div class="i0">Two used-up clerks on pleasure bound,</div> - <div class="i1">Ere yet our holidays were o'er.</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">And never tongue of ours was furled,</div> - <div class="i1">As on we went with spirits free;</div> - <div class="i0">The railway was our little world,</div> - <div class="i1">Though not a little whirled were we.</div> - <div class="i0">The winds and rain might blow and cease—</div> - <div class="i1">What cared we for wind or rain?</div> - <div class="i0">We'd paid our one pound ten apiece,</div> - <div class="i1">And this was our Excursion Train!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following is an extract from a parody on -<em>The Lotus Eaters</em>. It was written by Captain -Barlow, and obtained the second prize offered -by the Editor of <em>The World</em>, in which paper it -appeared in September, 1879:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">INISTERS AT</span> G<span class="smcapa">REENWICH</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"G<span class="smcapa">REENWICH</span>," they said, and pointed into space;</div> - <div class="i1">"The steaming train will bear us thither soon,"</div> - <div class="i0">In time for dinner came they to that place,</div> - <div class="i1">In which it seemèd always dinner-time.</div> - <div class="i0">A place of diners: some with friend or fair,</div> - <div class="i1">Slow dropping down the stream, to feast did go;</div> - <div class="i0">And those by quicker train did there repair</div> - <div class="i1">Who deemed all other locomotion slow,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor cared to watch the muddy river's flow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The sky looked showery, as is oft the case</div> - <div class="i1">Now, when no two days ever seem the same;</div> - <div class="i0">But yet, despite of Nature's frowning face,</div> - <div class="i1">To dine the whitebait-eating members came.</div> - <div class="i0">Baskets they saw of that delightful fish</div> - <div class="i1">Whose flavour is seductive, and doth make</div> - <div class="i0">Those who have tasted say that never dish</div> - <div class="i1">Was so delicious, and when they partake</div> - <div class="i1">Of these, all other food they straight forsake.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then some one said, "Why further should we pace?"</div> - <div class="i0">And all at once they sang, "This is the place</div> - <div class="i0">To spend a happy day. Rest we a little space.</div> - <div class="i4">Refreshing is this liquor dry,</div> - <div class="i5">Iced well as well can be;"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">Drink is "the best of life." Then why</div> - <div class="i5">Abstain teetotally?</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> A<span class="smcapa">MIABLE</span> D<span class="smcapa">UN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Fragment.</em></p> - -<p class="center">(After Tennyson.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At breakfast time he comes and stands,</div> - <div class="i0">He puts his paper in your hands,</div> - <div class="i0">He hums and haws, with "ifs" and "ands."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His hands he laves with unseen soaps,</div> - <div class="i0">Thanks you for nothing, says he hopes,</div> - <div class="i0">Then bows, "Good morning, sir;" he slopes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>Odd Echoes from Oxford</em>, 1872.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>A parody of the "Lord of Burleigh" appeared -in <em>Figaro</em>, January 22, 1873, and one entitled "A -Welcome to Alexandra (Palace)" in <em>Funny -Folks</em>, May 18, 1875.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Poet Laureate has recently contributed a -poem, entitled <em>Early Spring</em>, to an American -paper. It consisted of eight verses, and the fee -paid the writer was said to be 1,000 dollars.</p> - -<p>Taking the following as a fair example of the -rest, it would seem that 125 dollars per verse -was a very liberal remuneration:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Opens a door in Heaven;</div> - <div class="i1">From skies of glass</div> - <div class="i0">A Jacob's ladder falls</div> - <div class="i1">On greening <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'glass'">grass</ins>,</div> - <div class="i0">And o'er the mountain-walls</div> - <div class="i1">Young angels pass.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Has the Poet no friends about him who can -point out that by the publication of such painfully -weak effusions, the once great reputation of -Tennyson is being surely, if slowly, undermined; -and that the rising generation will be little -encouraged, by such specimens of his genius, to -read his early works. It is well known that the -Poet Laureate is exceedingly vain of his writings, -and does not hesitate to place them on a par -with those of Milton; this is a point we may -leave to posterity to decide, but it seems most -improbable that even the finest works of the -laurelled, pensioned, titled bard of our days, will -ever be considered worthy of a place by the side -of the glorious and imperishable poems of the -stern old puritan.</p> - -<p>As parodies of Tennyson's poems are constantly -being produced, a supplementary collection -of them will be published separately at -some future date.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - - -<h3><a name="CHARLES_S_CALVERLEY" id="CHARLES_S_CALVERLEY"></a>M<span class="smcapa">R</span>. C<span class="smcapa">HARLES</span> S<span class="smcapa">TEWART</span> C<span class="smcapa">ALVERLEY</span>.</h3> - -<p>The death of "C. S. C." will be heard of with -regret by all who enjoy the lighter forms of -English poetry, such as are to be found to perfection -in his two little volumes, entitled "Fly -Leaves" and "Verses and Translations," published -by Messrs. G. Bell and Sons.</p> - -<p>Mr. Calverley had an extraordinary ear for -rhythm, and could imitate, at will, the measure -and metre of any poet. Taking some comically -trifling topic, he could so write it up as to reproduce -not only the style, but even the very mode -of thought of his original. Thus, in his poem, -"The Cock and the Bull," he has caught far -more of Robert Browning than the mere verbal -eccentricities; "Wanderers" contains the very -best of all parodies of Tennyson's "Brook" -(quoted on page 30); Matthew Arnold is well -imitated in "Thoughts at a Railway Station;" -whilst the "Ode to Tobacco" reads like a continuation -of Longfellow's "Skeleton in Armour." -For <em>refined parody</em>, as distinguished from mere -verbal burlesque, Mr. Calverley was unapproached, -and no collection of humorous English poetry -would be complete, which did not include several -of his best pieces. His humour was ever genial -and pleasant, without a tinge of malice or ill-will, -and even those whom he so deftly parodied -could have taken no offence at his clever banter. -Mr. Calverley was also a considerable scholar, -as his translations testify, and he left at Oxford -(where he studied before going to Cambridge) a -considerable reputation as a wit and conversationalist.</p> - - - - -<p class="center">———♦———</p> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOW" id="HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOW"></a>H. W. Longfellow.</h2> - - -<p>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born at -Portland, Maine, on February 27, 1807, and -died on the 24th March, 1882, having thus just -completed his 75th year. After graduating at -the age of eighteen at Bowdoin College, he -entered the office of his father to study the law. -Soon afterwards, however, he left America for -Europe, where he travelled for three years -and a half, in order to qualify himself for a -professorship of modern language, which had -been offered to him in the college where he -had received his education. A few years later -he was appointed to a similar position in Harvard -College. In order to become acquainted with -the literature and language of Northern Europe -he again left America and travelled in Scandinavia, -Germany, and Switzerland, entering upon -his new duties in 1836. Mr. Longfellow commenced -his career as an author while yet -he was an undergraduate, and continued to -write almost to the last. A mere list of his -works would occupy considerable space. They -are thoroughly well known wherever our language -is spoken, and have obtained in this country a -popularity second to that of no English writer. -The Universities of Oxford and Cambridge both -conferred degrees upon Mr. Longfellow, and he -was also elected a member of the Russian -Academy of Science and of the Spanish Academy.</p> - -<p>The following are the poems which have been -most frequently selected as the models for -Parodies:—A Psalm of Life; Beware!; Evangeline;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -The Song of Hiawatha; The Village Blacksmith; -Excelsior; Curfew; The Bridge; and -several parts of the Saga of King Olaf.</p> - - -<h3>A P<span class="smcapa">SALM OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">IFE</span> A<span class="smcapa">SSURANCE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">ELL</span> me not in mournful numbers,</div> - <div class="i1">Life Assurance is a dream,</div> - <div class="i0">And that while the public slumbers,</div> - <div class="i1">Figures are not what they seem!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Really, I am quite in earnest!</div> - <div class="i1">So would you be. Here's a goal!</div> - <div class="i0">Come let's have enquiry sternest.</div> - <div class="i1">It's too bad, upon my soul.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Here's a set of fellows borrow</div> - <div class="i1">Money that they can't repay,</div> - <div class="i0">Then buy up, till each to-morrow</div> - <div class="i1">Finds them deeper than to-day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thus my claim they'll fail in meeting,</div> - <div class="i1">Though they've taken all I gave!</div> - <div class="i0">They, not muffled drums, want beating</div> - <div class="i1">Soundly till they look quite grave.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Talk of board rooms' tittle tattle!</div> - <div class="i1">Stuff! I have insured my life.</div> - <div class="i0">I'm not dumb, like driven cattle!</div> - <div class="i1">And I'll make a precious strife!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trust the Future? Come, that's pleasant!</div> - <div class="i1">Wait until I'm buried—dead?</div> - <div class="i0">No, I'll make a row at present.</div> - <div class="i1">On official toes I'll tread!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And directors think to blind us!</div> - <div class="i1">Humbug us just for a time.</div> - <div class="i0">Till we go to leave behind us</div> - <div class="i1">Nothing? Why, the thing's sublime!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nothing! Do they think another</div> - <div class="i1">Will insure, like me, in vain!</div> - <div class="i0">No! the outcry they'll not smother,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor catch shipwrecked dupes again!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let us, then, be up and doing,</div> - <div class="i1">Never mind what be our fate,</div> - <div class="i0">Each director still pursuing,</div> - <div class="i1">Shouting out "Investigate!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">From <em>The Tomahawk</em>, September 11, 1869.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">SALM OF</span> F<span class="smcapa">ICTION</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Tell us not in mournful "numbers"</div> - <div class="i1">Life is all a ghastly dream!</div> - <div class="i0">Such as those we have in slumbers</div> - <div class="i1">When the nightmare makes us scream.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Life is dark enough in earnest</div> - <div class="i1">Without bringing in the gaol,</div> - <div class="i0">Only readers of the sternest</div> - <div class="i1">Like their heroines out on bail.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not to swindle, or to borrow</div> - <div class="i1">Is the reputable way;</div> - <div class="i0">Not to marry, and to-morrow</div> - <div class="i1">Kill your bride, and run away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Arson's wrong, and poisoning dreary,</div> - <div class="i1">And our hearts, though pretty brave</div> - <div class="i0">Now and then get rather weary</div> - <div class="i1">Of the gallows, and the grave.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the great domestic battle,</div> - <div class="i1">In the matrimonial strife,</div> - <div class="i0">Be not like those Mormon "Cattle,"</div> - <div class="i1">Give your hero but one wife.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Wives and Daughters</em> should remind you</div> - <div class="i1">There are women without crime;</div> - <div class="i0">Draw them and you'll leave behind you</div> - <div class="i1">Fictions that may weather time.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Fictions free from that Inspector,</div> - <div class="i1">Who is sent by Richard Mayne,</div> - <div class="i0">And finds footmarks that affect a</div> - <div class="i1">Solemn butler in the lane.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let us, then, have no more trials,</div> - <div class="i1">No more tampering with wills,</div> - <div class="i0">Leave the poisons in the phials</div> - <div class="i1">And the money in the tills.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">ISS</span> M. <span class="smcapa">TO</span> M<span class="smcapa">R</span>. G<span class="smcapa">REEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Mournful Ditty.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">ELL</span> me not that I am pretty—</div> - <div class="i1">Really don't, now, Mr. Green;</div> - <div class="i0">I'm the last to think it's witty</div> - <div class="i1">Not to name things as they seem.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yes; I know my hair is curly,</div> - <div class="i1">Blacker than the blackest sloe;</div> - <div class="i0">And I know that you'll be surly</div> - <div class="i1">With the candour I thus show.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">That my eyes with fire are glancing</div> - <div class="i1">I'll admit if that you say:</div> - <div class="i0">Yet I think that you're romancing</div> - <div class="i1">When you swear they're bright as day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then my teeth you state are pearl,</div> - <div class="i1">Purer than the driven snow;</div> - <div class="i0">And to touch my lips you'd dare all</div> - <div class="i1">Dangers from an earthly foe.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Please don't be so very minute</div> - <div class="i1">When my beauties you describe,</div> - <div class="i0">As, perhaps, your flimsy tribute</div> - <div class="i1">May appear to be a bribe.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To secure my young affections</div> - <div class="i1">To your nasty little self,</div> - <div class="i0">And to banish all reflections</div> - <div class="i1">That you seek not me but pelf.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Now, if you'd be bright and happy,</div> - <div class="i1">Try and don't be what you seem—</div> - <div class="i0">A wretched, lazy, selfish chappy:</div> - <div class="i1">There—you have it, Mr. Green.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>The Modern Athenian.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">ACHELOR'S</span> L<span class="smcapa">IFE.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I will tell in measured numbers,</div> - <div class="i1">That our life is not a dream;</div> - <div class="i0">That the earth we don't encumber;</div> - <div class="i1">That we are not what we seem.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Man is real—we are earnest;</div> - <div class="i1">Eve, thy birth is not a fib;</div> - <div class="i0">Of man thou art, to him returnest;</div> - <div class="i1">We each are looking for his rib.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"No selfishness, not pleasure,</div> - <div class="i1">Is our only aim below;</div> - <div class="i0">Or to win wealth and treasure,</div> - <div class="i1">The only bliss we wish to know.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Life is short, time is fleeting,</div> - <div class="i1">We should hurry, up and do</div> - <div class="i0">That which brings a parent's greeting,</div> - <div class="i1">That which settles us below.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Bring us aid through life to battle</div> - <div class="i1">Who'll gird her hero in the strife;</div> - <div class="i0">No longer be mere straying cattle,</div> - <div class="i1">Find a tender, loving wife,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware the future, howe'er pleasant</div> - <div class="i1">Our fondest dream of it may be;</div> - <div class="i0">Our freedom, liberty, past and present,</div> - <div class="i1">Our pleasures we may cease to see.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Do not married men remind us,</div> - <div class="i1">We, though erring, yet have time,</div> - <div class="i0">To amend and leave behind us</div> - <div class="i1">Names unsullied by the crime.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"A crime the ladies all declare,</div> - <div class="i1">Being single through life's rapid run;</div> - <div class="i0">No victim to their wedded care,</div> - <div class="i1">Bent on freedom, pleasure, fun.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Let us then be up and doing,</div> - <div class="i1">With a heart for any fate;</div> - <div class="i0">Still in honour's track pursuing,</div> - <div class="i1">Find a partner, though its late."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">From <em>Notes and Queries</em>, August 31, 1872.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The following appeared in the <em><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Leattle'">Seattle</ins> Intelligencer</em> -(a Washington Territory newspaper), of -December 4, 1871:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AIDEN'S</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">IFE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Tell us not, in idle jingle,</div> - <div class="i1">'Marriage is an empty dream!'</div> - <div class="i0">For the girl is dead that's single,</div> - <div class="i1">And things are not what they seem.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Life is real! life is earnest!</div> - <div class="i1">Single blessedness a fib;</div> - <div class="i0">Man thou art, to man returnest,</div> - <div class="i1">Has been spoken of the rib.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,</div> - <div class="i1">Is our destined end or way;</div> - <div class="i0">But to act that each to-morrow</div> - <div class="i1">Finds us nearer marriage-day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Life is long, and youth is fleeting,</div> - <div class="i1">And our hearts are light and gay;</div> - <div class="i0">Still like pleasant drums are beating</div> - <div class="i1">Wedding marches all the day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"In the world's broad field of battle,</div> - <div class="i1">In the bivouac of life,</div> - <div class="i0">Be not like dumb-driven cattle!</div> - <div class="i1">Be a heroine—a wife!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Trust no future, howe'er pleasant;</div> - <div class="i1">Let the dead past bury its dead;</div> - <div class="i0">Act—act in the living present,</div> - <div class="i1">Hoping for a spouse ahead.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Lives of married folk remind us</div> - <div class="i1">We can live our lives as well,</div> - <div class="i0">And departing leave behind us</div> - <div class="i1">Such examples as will 'tell';</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Such examples that another,</div> - <div class="i1">Wasting time in idle sport,</div> - <div class="i0">A forlorn, unmarried brother,</div> - <div class="i1">Seeing shall take heart and court.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Let us, then, be up and doing,</div> - <div class="i1">With a heart on triumph set;</div> - <div class="i0">Still contriving, still pursuing,</div> - <div class="i1">And each one a husband get."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">N</span> C<span class="smcapa">AMPBELL'S</span> "<em>Lives of the Chancellors</em>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lives of great men misinform us</div> - <div class="i1">Campbell's <em>Lives</em> in this sublime,</div> - <div class="i0">Errors frightfully enormous,</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Misprints</em> on the sands of time.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="figleft100"><img src="images/i_t.jpg" width="74" height="80" alt="T" /></span>HE interest which is taken in this collection by -many of the subscribers is shewn by their kind -permission to quote Parodies from their works; by -the information they have sent as to out-of-the-way -books in which others may be found; and, further, -by their contribution of original Parodies.</p> - -<p>The author of the following introduction to this -series, is well known for his charming pathetic -poems. From the first he has rendered most valuable -assistance; having formed a large collection of -Parodies, he has kindly placed them at the Editor's -disposal, and they will be inserted under the respective -authors to whom they apply.</p> - - -<h3>THE MONTHLY PARODIES.</h3> - -<p class="center">AN APOLOGY.</p> - -<p class="center"><em>After William Morris's "Earthly Paradise."</em><br /> -(<em>Written expressly for this collection.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Of Love or War this is no hour to sing,</div> - <div class="i1">But I may ease the burden of your fears</div> - <div class="i0">(Lest you think death to mirth is happening),</div> - <div class="i1">And quote from wit of past and present years,</div> - <div class="i1">Till o'er these pages you forget your tears,</div> - <div class="i0">And smile again, as presently you say</div> - <div class="i0">Some idle jingle—or forgotten lay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But when a-weary of the hunt for mirth</div> - <div class="i1">Thro' comic journals with a doleful sigh</div> - <div class="i0">You feel unkindly unto all the earth,</div> - <div class="i1">And grudge the pennies that they cost to buy</div> - <div class="i1">These "weakly comics," lingering like to die,</div> - <div class="i0">Remember, then, a little while, I pray,</div> - <div class="i0">The clever singers of a former day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The pomp and power and grand majestic air</div> - <div class="i1">That marches thro' their poems' stately tread,</div> - <div class="i0">These idle verses may catch unaware,</div> - <div class="i1">And by burlesque call back remembered</div> - <div class="i0">Some rhymes "that living not can ne'er be dead,"</div> - <div class="i1">Though what is meant by that I cannot say—</div> - <div class="i1">But Mr. Morris wrote it one fine day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Here grouped are strains of parody in rhyme,</div> - <div class="i1">Now classified and placed in order straight,</div> - <div class="i0">Let it suffice it for the present time</div> - <div class="i1">That some be old, while some are born but late,</div> - <div class="i1">A careful choice, from all the crowd that wait,</div> - <div class="i0">Of those that in forgotten serials stay,</div> - <div class="i0">Or are, in passing journals, tossed away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Folks say a wizard to a common King,</div> - <div class="i1">One April-tide such wondrous jest did show</div> - <div class="i0">That in a mirror men beheld each thing,</div> - <div class="i1">Like, yet unlike, and saw the pale nose glow,</div> - <div class="i1">While rosy face looked white as fallen snow,</div> - <div class="i0">Each visage altered in such comic way</div> - <div class="i0">That those who came to court, remain'd to play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So with these many Parodies it is,</div> - <div class="i1">If you will read aright and carefully,</div> - <div class="i0">Not scathing satire, nor malicious hiss</div> - <div class="i1">For lack of beauty in the themes to see,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor jeerings coarse, at what men prize, as we</div> - <div class="i0">But jest to make some little changeling play</div> - <div class="i0">Its pranks in classic robes, all crowned with bay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">J. W. G<span class="smcapa">LEESON</span> W<span class="smcapa">HITE</span>,</div> - <div class="i10">C<span class="smcapa">HRISTCHURCH</span>.</div> - <div class="i0"><em>March</em>, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>On the 1st March, 1884, a bust of Longfellow -(by Mr. T. Brock, A.R.A.) was unveiled in Poet's -Corner, Westminster Abbey. It is placed -between the graves of Dryden and Cowley, and -bears this inscription:—</p> - - -<h3>L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW.</span></h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"This bust was placed among the memorials of the poets -of England by the English admirers of an American poet, -1884."</p></blockquote> - -<p>and on the sides are the dates—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Born at Portland, U.S.A., February 27, 1807.</div> - <div class="i0">Died at Cambridge, U.S.A., March 24, 1882."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Mr. J. Russell Lowell was present at the -ceremony, and gave an address, in which he -stated that—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Longfellow's mind always moved straight towards its -object, was always permeated with the emotions, and gave -them the frankest, the sincerest, and, at the same time, the -most simple expression; and never was there a private -character more answerable to public performance than that -of Longfellow. His nature was consecrated ground, into -which no unclean spirit could ever enter."</p></blockquote> - -<p>This tribute to his memory, paid by one who -had known him for nearly forty years, sufficiently -explains the reason why, in the parodies of his -works which are now to be given, nothing of a -personal nature will be inserted. Indeed it is -doubtful whether one unkindly worded, or -spiteful burlesque was ever penned about either -Longfellow, or his works. The absence of this -element will be all the more noticeable as following -directly after the parodies of the Poet -Laureate, whose actions and writings have -invited so many attacks. Tennyson's early -sneers at hereditary nobility, as contrasted with -his adulation of royalty, and the exaggerated -praise of princes in his official poems of later -years. His involved, and often obscure, mode of -writing, especially when attempting to deal -with metaphysical topics; his narrow insular -prejudices; his frequent writings in praise of -war, and calling aloud for the blood of either -the French, or the Russians, or the Spaniards. -And, lastly, his acceptance of a coronet which -sits grotesquely enough on the laurels he so -long has worn as Poet Laureate.</p> - -<p>In all this there was ample room for adverse -comment, which the life and works of Longfellow -never afforded. The tenderness, the -grace, the sweet pathos, and the exquisite simplicity -of his poems, combined with the purity, -charity, and kindness of his personal character,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -were such that detraction, envy, and malice were -dumb, and criticism itself was almost silenced.</p> - -<p>Hence the parodies will be found to consist -principally of imitations of his style, language, -or ideas, or of reproductions of his poems in a -grotesque form. In some cases a few verses of -the original are given for the convenience of -comparison with the parodies.</p> - - -<h3>A N<span class="smcapa">OBLE</span> A<span class="smcapa">MBITION</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Tell me not in mournful numbers,</div> - <div class="i1">Life's one long unending bill—</div> - <div class="i0">Debts unpaid disturb your slumbers—</div> - <div class="i1">Tin <em>will</em> fly, do what you will.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Meat is high in real good earnest,</div> - <div class="i1">Far above the hungry soul;</div> - <div class="i0">Dust thou art, to dust returns, is</div> - <div class="i1">Very typical of coal.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the weekly market battle,</div> - <div class="i1">For the cheapest things and best,</div> - <div class="i0">Be not like dumb-driven cattle,</div> - <div class="i1">Stand out bravely, all the rest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not enjoyment, hardly sorrow,</div> - <div class="i1">Feel we, when small debts we pay;</div> - <div class="i0">Still, we know that each to-morrow</div> - <div class="i1">Finds them larger than to-day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Duns are hard, and time is fleeting,</div> - <div class="i0">Bills are sadly in arrears,</div> - <div class="i1">And our hearts, tho' brave, stop beating</div> - <div class="i0">At the aspect of affairs.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Bailiffs are not very pleasant,</div> - <div class="i1">Lock your door and keep the key;</div> - <div class="i0">Act, act in the living present—</div> - <div class="i1">Leave your country, cross the sea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lives of great men, too, remind us,</div> - <div class="i1">Big debts sometimes clogged <em>their</em> feet;</div> - <div class="i0">And, like them, we leave behind us</div> - <div class="i1">Some few bills we cannot meet—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Bills that make you try to smother,</div> - <div class="i1">As you cross the stormy main,</div> - <div class="i0">Thoughts of love, and home, and mother,</div> - <div class="i1">Listening for your step in vain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let us then be up and doing</div> - <div class="i1">With an eye to making tin,</div> - <div class="i0">Any likely trade pursuing,</div> - <div class="i1">Learn to gain your end and win.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>The Figaro</em>, December 3, 1873.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">IBERAL</span> P<span class="smcapa">SALM OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">IFE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Tell us not in mournful numbers</div> - <div class="i1">Liberal union is a dream:</div> - <div class="i0">Bright is cranky, Bob Lowe slumbers;</div> - <div class="i1">Yet things are not what they seem.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Opposition must be earnest,</div> - <div class="i1">Or we shall not win the goal;</div> - <div class="i0">If for Gladstone still thou yearnest,</div> - <div class="i1">Thou art a weak-minded soul.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ministerial slips to follow</div> - <div class="i1">Is our destined end and way,</div> - <div class="i0">So that we may throw each morrow</div> - <div class="i1">Stumbling blocks in Dizzy's way.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dizzy's strong, but fame is fleeting;</div> - <div class="i1">Conservatism, now so brave,</div> - <div class="i0">In the Bills which we are greeting,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet may find an early grave.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trust no Forster, howe'er pleasant,</div> - <div class="i1">Let past premiers bury their dead;</div> - <div class="i0">Act with Hartington at present,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor the coming session dread.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Hansard's pages all remind us</div> - <div class="i1">We have but to bide our time;</div> - <div class="i0">Dizzy some fine day may find us</div> - <div class="i1">In majority sublime.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Gladstone's gone, but till another,</div> - <div class="i1">Like him takes the helm again,</div> - <div class="i0">Let us help our leader, brother,</div> - <div class="i1">Hartington with might and main.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let us then be up and doing,</div> - <div class="i1">Meeting Dizzy in debate,</div> - <div class="i0">Tory tactics still pursuing,</div> - <div class="i1">Find a policy—and wait!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From <em>Funny Folks</em>, February 27, 1875, when the Conservative -party, led by Mr. Disraeli, was in power, and the -Liberal Opposition was led by Lord Hartington.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A P<span class="smcapa">SALM OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">IFE AT</span> S<span class="smcapa">IXTY</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>What the Heart of the Old Man said to the Genial Gusher -at Christmas Time.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">ELL</span> me not in Christmas Numbers</div> - <div class="i1">Life is but a <em>gourmet's</em> dream!</div> - <div class="i0">Sure your sense is dead or slumbers:</div> - <div class="i1">Peptics are not what they seem.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Life is serious! Life is solemn!</div> - <div class="i1">And good grub is not its goal:</div> - <div class="i0"><em>Menu</em>-making by the column</div> - <div class="i1">Helps not the dyspeptic soul.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not delight from cates to borrow</div> - <div class="i1">Is the aim of prudent will,</div> - <div class="i0">But to eat so that to-morrow</div> - <div class="i1">Finds us not exceeding ill.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Feeds are long and health is fleeting;</div> - <div class="i1">And old stomachs once so strong,</div> - <div class="i0">Find that indiscriminate eating</div> - <div class="i1">Very quickly puts them wrong.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the banquet's dainty battle,</div> - <div class="i1">At the table's toothsome strife,</div> - <div class="i0">Feed not like dumb hungry cattle,</div> - <div class="i1">Wield a cautious fork and knife!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trust no <em>menu</em>, howe'er pleasant;</div> - <div class="i1">Night-mare-Nemesis is dread;</div> - <div class="i0">Swig and swallow like a peasant,</div> - <div class="i1">You'll repent it when in bed!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Memories of big feeds remind us</div> - <div class="i1">Christmas pudding peace can slay;</div> - <div class="i0">Touch it, and next morn shall find us</div> - <div class="i1">Indigestion's helpless prey.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Pudding that perhaps another,</div> - <div class="i1">Light of heart and bright of brain,</div> - <div class="i0">Some strong-stomached younger brother,</div> - <div class="i1">Eating, sends his plate again.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let us then beware high feeding,</div> - <div class="i1">Or the love of luscious cate,</div> - <div class="i0">Still abstaining, ne'er exceeding,</div> - <div class="i1">Learn to dodge dyspeptic fate!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">From <em>Punch</em>, December 27, 1879.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lives of wealthy men remind us</div> - <div class="i1">That by using Printer's ink,</div> - <div class="i0">We can die and leave behind us</div> - <div class="i1">Monstrous piles of golden "chink."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">O</span> M<span class="smcapa">Y</span> S<span class="smcapa">COUT AT</span> B<span class="smcapa">REAKFAST</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">D<span class="smcapa">ON'T</span> tell me in cheerful numbers</div> - <div class="i1">That the jug is full of cream!</div> - <div class="i0">For the milkman's conscience slumbers,</div> - <div class="i1">And things are not what they seem!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><em>Odd Echoes from Oxford</em>, 1872.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A F<span class="smcapa">RAGMENT.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wives of great men all remind us</div> - <div class="i1">We may make our wives sublime</div> - <div class="i0">By departing—leave behind us</div> - <div class="i1">Widows in the "weeds" of time.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Widows that perchance some other</div> - <div class="i1">Sailing o'er life's solemn main</div> - <div class="i0">Some forlorn rejected brother,</div> - <div class="i1">May take heart, and "splice" again.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">EWARE</span>!</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>From the German.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">KNOW</span> a maiden fair to see,</div> - <div class="i3">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">She can both false and friendly be,</div> - <div class="i3">Beware! beware!</div> - <div class="i3">Trust her not.</div> - <div class="i0">She is fooling thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She has two eyes, so soft and brown,</div> - <div class="i3">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">She gives a side glance and looks down,</div> - <div class="i3">Beware! beware!</div> - <div class="i3">Trust her not,</div> - <div class="i0">She is fooling thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>"T<span class="smcapa">AKE</span> C<span class="smcapa">ARE</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Have you a wife with real estate?</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">She can "devise, and alienate,"</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">She has got</div> - <div class="i0">The whip hand of thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Too promptly she may take her cue,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware!</div> - <div class="i0">And learn she has the "power to sue,"</div> - <div class="i4">Take care! Take care!</div> - <div class="i4">Thwart her not,</div> - <div class="i0">She'll be down on thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Her three per cents are but a snare,</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">She "holds" as if <em>femme sole</em> she were,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">Has she not</div> - <div class="i0">The whip hand of thee?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You, Darby, who could sponge on Joan,</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">Henceforth her earrings are her own,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">Touch them not,</div> - <div class="i0">She'll be down on thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If this new law be put in force,</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">Lest th' old mare prove the better horse,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">Marry not,</div> - <div class="i0">There's a hint for thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">From <em>The Tomahawk</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">EWARE</span>!</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">KNOW</span> a rink that's fair to see,</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">It can both kind and cruel be,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">Trust it not,</div> - <div class="i0">It will injure thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It has two skates to lend to you,</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">With wheels that oft want oiling too,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">Trust it not,</div> - <div class="i0">It will injure thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It has a surface smooth as glass,</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">For you can't see what will come to pass,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">Trust it not,</div> - <div class="i0">It will injure thee.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It shows your wondrous grace and skill,</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">But naught it says about a spill,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">Trust it not,</div> - <div class="i0">It will injure thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It tells you much of pleasure there,</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis a delusion and a snare,</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i4">Trust it not,</div> - <div class="i0">It will injure thee!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Idyls of the Rink</em>, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">EWARE</span>!</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Dedicated to Lord Salisbury.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I know a statesman fair to hear;</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">He can make worst the best appear;</div> - <div class="i0">His "little game" is very clear.</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i0">Trust him not—he is one to fear.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He has a conscience—<em>he says so;</em></div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">He knows how far to let it go</div> - <div class="i0">(We had a <em>Treaty</em> once, you know).</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i0">Trust him not, though it <em>may</em> be so.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He gives thee a mode of trading "fair;"</div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear!</div> - <div class="i0">A "card" for him, for thee a snare.</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i0">Trust him not, though it sounds so rare.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He has one face, and some say <em>two;</em></div> - <div class="i4">Take care!</div> - <div class="i0">And what he says it is not true,</div> - <div class="i0">He would do good, but not to <em>you</em>.</div> - <div class="i4">Beware! Beware!</div> - <div class="i0">Trust him not, or you will rue.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><em>Grins and Groans</em>, 1882.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ILLAGE</span> B<span class="smcapa">LACKSMITH</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">U<span class="smcapa">NDER</span> a spreading chestnut tree</div> - <div class="i1">The village smithy stands;</div> - <div class="i0">The smith, a mighty man is he,</div> - <div class="i1">With large and sinewy hands;</div> - <div class="i0">And the muscles of his brawny arms</div> - <div class="i1">Are strong as iron bands.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Week in, week out, from morn till night,</div> - <div class="i1">You can hear his bellows blow,</div> - <div class="i0">You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,</div> - <div class="i1">With measured beat and slow,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a sexton ringing the village bell,</div> - <div class="i1">When the evening sun is low.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ILLAGE</span> B<span class="smcapa">LACKSMITH AS HE IS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Under the spreading chestnut tree</div> - <div class="i1">The village blacksmith stands,</div> - <div class="i0">The smith an awful cad is he</div> - <div class="i1">With very dirty hands.</div> - <div class="i0">For keepers and the rural police</div> - <div class="i1">He doesn't care a hang.</div> - <div class="i0">He swears, and fights, and whops his wife,</div> - <div class="i1">Gets drunk whene'er he can;</div> - <div class="i0">In point of fact, our village smith's</div> - <div class="i1">A very awful man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He goes on Sundays to the pub'</div> - <div class="i1">With other festive boys,</div> - <div class="i0">When drinking beer and goes of rum</div> - <div class="i1">His precious time employs.</div> - <div class="i0">Till he gets drunk, and going home</div> - <div class="i1">He makes no end of noise,</div> - <div class="i0">Then, with his poor half-starving wife</div> - <div class="i1">He in a passion flies.</div> - <div class="i0">He pulls her by the hair, from off</div> - <div class="i1">The bed on which she lies,</div> - <div class="i0">And kicks her round the room, and says</div> - <div class="i1">Bad things about her eyes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Smoking, soaking, bullying,</div> - <div class="i1">Onward through life he goes,</div> - <div class="i0">Each morning sees a blackened eye</div> - <div class="i1">Or else a broken nose.</div> - <div class="i0">I fear within the County Gaol</div> - <div class="i1">Calcraft his life will close;</div> - <div class="i0">Thanks, thanks to thee, thou black blacksmith</div> - <div class="i1">For the lesson thou hast taught.</div> - <div class="i0">By Calcraft, or his deputy</div> - <div class="i1">I never will be caught,</div> - <div class="i0">And to that end I'll never do</div> - <div class="i1">The thing I hadn't ought.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">From <em>Figaro Programme</em>, February 6, 1873.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> N<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span> P<span class="smcapa">OLICEMAN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Not by Henry W. Longfellow.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Beside a noisy tavern door</div> - <div class="i1">The night policeman stands,</div> - <div class="i0">And a foaming pot of half-and-half,</div> - <div class="i1">He clutches with eager hands;</div> - <div class="i0">But little doth our Robert know</div> - <div class="i1">He is watched by thievish bands.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His voice is thick, his speech too strong</div> - <div class="i1">For any sober man;</div> - <div class="i0">His brow is wet with his tall helmet,</div> - <div class="i1">He drinks whene'er he can;</div> - <div class="i0">But the merry prig laughs in his face,</div> - <div class="i1">He arrests not any man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Through the dark night to the broad daylight</div> - <div class="i1">You can hear him tramp below,</div> - <div class="i0">Until the serjeant hath passed, and then</div> - <div class="i1">He soon doth leave his beat to go</div> - <div class="i0">To visit a sprightly area belle,</div> - <div class="i1">When the evening star is low.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When the burglar, fixing a handy tool,</div> - <div class="i1">Breaks in through the bolted door,</div> - <div class="i0">And quickly pockets the notes and gold,</div> - <div class="i1">And the glittering jewelled store store—</div> - <div class="i0">Hearing the laugh, as he gaily flies,</div> - <div class="i1">Come from the kitchen floor.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When Robert makes report next morn</div> - <div class="i1">Of nought but naughty boys,</div> - <div class="i0">Householders angrily impeach.</div> - <div class="i1">He hears the inspector's voice;</div> - <div class="i0">And he knows that his stately form no more</div> - <div class="i1">Will make the cook rejoice.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> - <div class="i0">It sounds to him like a warning voice:</div> - <div class="i1">Farewell to rabbit pies,</div> - <div class="i0">And juicy ham and nourishing stout,</div> - <div class="i1">And the pickles he doth prize.</div> - <div class="i0">And with his worsted glove he wipes</div> - <div class="i1">A tear from out his eyes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Shuffling, lying, sorrowing,</div> - <div class="i1">He takes off his dark blue clothes—</div> - <div class="i0">Lantern, truncheon, and helmet too,</div> - <div class="i1">With his cape he sadly throws.</div> - <div class="i0">Burglaries attempted! Burglaries done!</div> - <div class="i1">Out of the force he goes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>Funny Folks</em>, May 22, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ILLAGE</span> G<span class="smcapa">ROG</span> S<span class="smcapa">HOP</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Under a spreading chestnut tree</div> - <div class="i1">The village grog shop stands;</div> - <div class="i0">The host a thirsty man is he,</div> - <div class="i1">With large and bloated hands;</div> - <div class="i0">And the vessels of his beery charms</div> - <div class="i1">Are bright in pewter bands.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His tap is "Watney," "Meux," and "Long,"</div> - <div class="i1">And bitter as the tan;</div> - <div class="i0">His till is fill'd with ready coin,</div> - <div class="i1">He cheats whene'er he can,</div> - <div class="i0">He looks the whole "Bench" in the face,</div> - <div class="i1">And he trusts not any man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Week in, week out, from morn till night,</div> - <div class="i1">You can hear the liquor flow;</div> - <div class="i0">And after hours the bobby's tread,</div> - <div class="i1">With measured beat and slow,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a convict working the cheerful mill</div> - <div class="i1">When his morals have been low.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And maidens, not long freed from school,</div> - <div class="i1">Jot down th' increasing score,</div> - <div class="i0">They love to see the lab'rers gorge,</div> - <div class="i1">And hear the rustics roar,</div> - <div class="i0">And catch th' attempted wits—so "fly,"</div> - <div class="i1">With chaff—from a sawdust floor.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He goes in Sessions 'fore the Bench,</div> - <div class="i1">And sits among the crowd;</div> - <div class="i0">He hears the "unpaid" jaw and preach,</div> - <div class="i1">He hears his counsel's voice</div> - <div class="i0">Pleading with legalic fire;</div> - <div class="i1">And licensed, has his choice.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It makes him think of the Three per Cents.</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein his money lies!</div> - <div class="i0">He needs must think of her once more</div> - <div class="i1">How in the bar she plies,</div> - <div class="i0">And with his hard rough hands he lifts</div> - <div class="i1">His beer-mug to the skies.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Spoiling—adult'ring—borrowing,</div> - <div class="i1">Onward through life he goes;</div> - <div class="i0">Each morning sees some cask begun,</div> - <div class="i1">Each evening sees its close;</div> - <div class="i0">Somebody tempted, something won,</div> - <div class="i1">Has earned the pub's repose."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Mirth</em>, March, 1878. <span class="mleft8"> </span>F. H. S.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> E<span class="smcapa">NGLISH</span> J<span class="smcapa">UDGE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>As sung by Dr. E. V. Kenealy</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Under the carved-oak canopy</div> - <div class="i1">Our ermined Justice sits;</div> - <div class="i0">The Judge, a mighty man is he,</div> - <div class="i1">With large and varied wits;</div> - <div class="i0">And nobly to his land and Queen</div> - <div class="i1">His duty he acquits.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His wig is crisp, and gray, and full,</div> - <div class="i1">And if his face you scan,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis furrow'd deep with lines of thought;</div> - <div class="i1">'Twere hard his brow to span.</div> - <div class="i0">And he looks the whole world in the face,</div> - <div class="i1">For he fears not any man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Term in, term out, from ten till four,</div> - <div class="i1">You can hear his accents clear;</div> - <div class="i0">You can hear him crush deceit and fraud</div> - <div class="i1">With authority severe,</div> - <div class="i0">But the innocent and helpless one</div> - <div class="i1">Has naught from him to fear.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And strangers "doing" London sights</div> - <div class="i1">Look in at the swinging door;</div> - <div class="i0">They love to see his massive form,</div> - <div class="i1">And to hear his legal lore,</div> - <div class="i0">And to catch the pearls of thought that drop</div> - <div class="i1">From his copious mental store.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At four for home he leaves the bench,</div> - <div class="i1">And 'midst his books and notes</div> - <div class="i0">His leisure far into the night</div> - <div class="i1">To "cases" he devotes.</div> - <div class="i0">Nor counts his nights and mornings lost,</div> - <div class="i1">If justice he promotes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With patient care he extricates</div> - <div class="i1">The tangled legal skein;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst barristers and clients sleep,</div> - <div class="i1">Re-links the broken chain,</div> - <div class="i0">And ere the hour of ten has come</div> - <div class="i1">Is at his post again.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Toiling, re-searching, circuiting,</div> - <div class="i1">Onward through life he goes;</div> - <div class="i0">Each morning sees new work begun,</div> - <div class="i1">But not each night its close;</div> - <div class="i0">And not till Long Vacation comes</div> - <div class="i1">Can he expect repose.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thanks, thanks! then, to the English Judge</div> - <div class="i1">For the lessons he has taught!</div> - <div class="i0">For a life so earnest and so pure,</div> - <div class="i1">With good example fraught.</div> - <div class="i0">And may we all learn this from him,—</div> - <div class="i1">How duty should be wrought.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><em>Truth Christmas Number</em>, 1879.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ILLAGE</span> B<span class="smcapa">EAUTY</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Under a spreading Gainsborough hat</div> - <div class="i1">The village beauty stands,</div> - <div class="i0">A maiden very fair to see,</div> - <div class="i1">With tiny feet and hands,</div> - <div class="i0">As stately, too, as if she owned</div> - <div class="i1">The squire's house and lands.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Her hair is golden brown and long,</div> - <div class="i1">Her brow is like the snow,</div> - <div class="i0">Her cheeks are like the rosy flush</div> - <div class="i1">Left by the sunset's glow,</div> - <div class="i0">She greets the lads with a careless look,</div> - <div class="i1">She's the village belle, you know.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Week in, week out, at morn and night,</div> - <div class="i1">The young miller comes each day;</div> - <div class="i0">"'Tis the nearest way to town," he says,</div> - <div class="i1">But 'tis rather out of his way,</div> - <div class="i0">And every night he seems to have</div> - <div class="i1">Plenty of time to stay!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And children, coming home from school</div> - <div class="i1">Look in at the door, and know</div> - <div class="i0">That the handsome fellow by her side</div> - <div class="i1">Is pretty Nellie's beau,</div> - <div class="i0">Who can hardly tear himself away,</div> - <div class="i1">When he finds 'tis time to go.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He goes on Sundays to the Church,</div> - <div class="i1">And sits in his proper pew,</div> - <div class="i0">But his eyes wander off to the transept near,</div> - <div class="i1">Where he sees a charming view,</div> - <div class="i0">For Nellie sits there, in her Sunday best,</div> - <div class="i1">With her bonnet of palest blue.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He hears the parson pray and preach</div> - <div class="i1">With his outward ear alone,</div> - <div class="i0">For he only listens for Nellie's voice,</div> - <div class="i1">And responds in a dreamy tone,</div> - <div class="i0">And when she smiles at the carpenter near,</div> - <div class="i1">He can't suppress a groan.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Despairing, hoping, fearing,</div> - <div class="i1">Onward thro' life he goes;</div> - <div class="i0">Each morning he sees Nellie,</div> - <div class="i1">And each evening, at its close;</div> - <div class="i0">She even haunts him sleeping,</div> - <div class="i1">And disturbs his night's repose.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,</div> - <div class="i1">For the lesson thou hast taught;</div> - <div class="i0">Thus at the flirting time of life</div> - <div class="i1">Our fortunes may be wrought,</div> - <div class="i0">So we cannot be too careful</div> - <div class="i1">Over every word and thought!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">L. P.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>From <em>The Dunheved Mirror</em>, Cornwall, March, 1880.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">RITISH</span> M. P.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Song of St. Stephen's.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">U<span class="smcapa">NDER</span> St. Stephen's high roof-tree</div> - <div class="i1">The British M. P. sits:</div> - <div class="i0">M. P. a mighty man is he,</div> - <div class="i1">With sharp and seasoned wits,</div> - <div class="i0">And an eloquence that, once set free,</div> - <div class="i1">Would give opponents fits.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Week in, week out, from noon to night,</div> - <div class="i1">He must sit in silent woe,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst W<span class="smcapa">ARTON</span> vents his dullard spite,</div> - <div class="i1">With measured boom and slow,</div> - <div class="i0">Or S<span class="smcapa">EXTON</span> soars in furious flight</div> - <div class="i1">When the morning lights burn low.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Boiling and bored, no fight, no fun,</div> - <div class="i1">Onward the M. P. goes.</div> - <div class="i0">Each day sees aimless jaw begun,</div> - <div class="i1">No night beholds its close.</div> - <div class="i0">Little attempted, nothing done—</div> - <div class="i1">No work and no repose!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Punch</em>, March 24, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ILLAGE</span> P<span class="smcapa">AX</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>With Deprecatory Acknowledgments to Longfellow.</em>)</p> - -<p>["A P<span class="smcapa">EACEFUL</span> P<span class="smcapa">ARISH</span>.—It is worthy of remark that in -a parish near Blandford a petition in favour of peace has -been signed by every grown-up man and woman, with the -exception of one farmer."—<em>Times.</em>]</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Under the spreading olive tree</div> - <div class="i1">The peaceful village stands,</div> - <div class="i0">It's known for its tranquillitee</div> - <div class="i1">Throughout the neighbouring lands;</div> - <div class="i0">And it drinks but very weak Bohea,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor smokes the mildest brands.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Its hair is smooth, its patience long,</div> - <div class="i1">Its biceps, when you span,</div> - <div class="i0">You find they're more like dimples; and</div> - <div class="i1">You may hit them where you can,</div> - <div class="i0">And come off cheap with easy fame,</div> - <div class="i1">For it fights not any man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Week in, week out, from morn till night,</div> - <div class="i1">You can hear the humming low</div> - <div class="i0">Of dogs who like to bark and bite</div> - <div class="i1">Because their nature's so;</div> - <div class="i0">And their cocks they're all put out of sight,</div> - <div class="i1">For the bullies used to crow!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Preaching, protesting, sorrowing,</div> - <div class="i1">Because of Eastern foes,</div> - <div class="i0">Each morning sees that village dawn,</div> - <div class="i1">Each evening sees it doze,</div> - <div class="i0">O'er asses' milk and ginger-beer,</div> - <div class="i1">And Peter Taylor's prose.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thanks, thanks, to you, O happy vale!</div> - <div class="i1">It is a cheering thought</div> - <div class="i0">That somewhere waits a blessed spot</div> - <div class="i1">For one by yells distraught,</div> - <div class="i0">Where bray of Jingoes reaches not,</div> - <div class="i1">And Drummond-Wolff is nought.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ILLAGE</span> W<span class="smcapa">OODMAN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>With apologies to Mr. Longfellow.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Under a spreading chestnut tree</div> - <div class="i1">The busy Gladstone stands;</div> - <div class="i0">Ever this restless W. G.</div> - <div class="i1">Has something on his hands.</div> - <div class="i0">O'er field or meadow, park or farm,</div> - <div class="i1">O'er clay or gravelly lands,</div> - <div class="i0">He takes the sharpened axe in hand</div> - <div class="i1">With tree-destroying plan;</div> - <div class="i0">His brow is wet with woodman's sweat,</div> - <div class="i1">He fells whate'er he can,</div> - <div class="i0">And looks the proud tree in the face,</div> - <div class="i1">And cleaves it like a man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Week in, week out, from morn to night,</div> - <div class="i1">You can hear his hatchet's blow;</div> - <div class="i0">You can see him swing his heavy axe,</div> - <div class="i1">Resolved that tree shall go,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a workman labouring for his pay</div> - <div class="i1">When his funds are very low;</div> - <div class="i0">And tourists, wandering o'er the fields,</div> - <div class="i1">Look aghast at this woodman bold;</div> - <div class="i0">They shudder at the flashing axe,</div> - <div class="i1">And mark the upturned mould;</div> - <div class="i0">They see by the scattered chips that fly</div> - <div class="i1">That the woodman's strong though old.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He goes on Sunday to the church,</div> - <div class="i1">And reads the lessons there.</div> - <div class="i0">To hear the parson pray and preach</div> - <div class="i1">Few to that church repair.</div> - <div class="i0">But reading in that village church</div> - <div class="i1">Makes the G. O. M. rejoice,</div> - <div class="i0">For he loves to hear his own sweet voice</div> - <div class="i1">In Church or Parliament.</div> - <div class="i0">But where'er he be he thinks of trees,</div> - <div class="i1">How many fallen lie,</div> - <div class="i0">And those who notice him may see</div> - <div class="i1">A twinkle in his eye.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Toiling, rejoicing, brandishing</div> - <div class="i1">His axe, thus on he goes;</div> - <div class="i0">Each morning sees some grand old tree,</div> - <div class="i1">Each evening sees its close;</div> - <div class="i0">Some branches felled, some trunk laid low—</div> - <div class="i1">And then he seeks repose.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><em>Moonshine</em>, January 19, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Longfellow's <em>Song of Hiawatha</em> certainly -invites parody, and its easy metre is readily -caught up by any one having an ordinarily -good ear, and knack of versification. Consequently -parodies of it abound; unfortunately -they become somewhat wearisome in perusal -from the monotonous diction, and some of the -best only will be quoted at length.</p> - -<p>The following, written by Mr. J. W. Morris, -appeared in the <em>Bath and Cheltenham Gazette</em> -shortly after the appearance of Longfellow's -poem, and is interesting as giving an account -of the feelings with which <em>Hiawatha</em> was first -received:—</p> - - -<h3>H<span class="smcapa">IAWATHA.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Parody.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">D<span class="smcapa">O</span> you ask me what I think of</div> - <div class="i0">This new song of <em>Hiawatha</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">With its legends and traditions,</div> - <div class="i0">And its frequent repetitions</div> - <div class="i0">Of hard names which make the jaw ache,</div> - <div class="i0">And of words most unpoetic?</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you</div> - <div class="i0">I esteem it wild and wayward,</div> - <div class="i0">Slipslop metre, scanty sense,</div> - <div class="i0">Honour paid to Mudjekewis,</div> - <div class="i0">But no honour to the Muse.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Honour to the Muddyminded!"</div> - <div class="i0">Who now wears the belt of Wampum,</div> - <div class="i0">He has stolen it from the Northmen,</div> - <div class="i0">And he wears it, and shall wear;</div> - <div class="i0">And hereafter, and for ever,</div> - <div class="i0">Shall he hold ungrudged dominion</div> - <div class="i0">Over all the winds that whistle;</div> - <div class="i0">Call him no more Muddyminded,</div> - <div class="i0">Call him Longfellow, the Yankee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Forth upon a Pitchy Puddle,</div> - <div class="i0">Gleaming with a fitful phosphor;</div> - <div class="i0">In a bark of his own making,</div> - <div class="i0">With a line of his own twisting,</div> - <div class="i0">Forth to catch a fine new Poem</div> - <div class="i0">All alone went Muddyminded.</div> - <div class="i0">At the stern sat Muddyminded,</div> - <div class="i0">For 'twas windy, and he knew</div> - <div class="i0">He was heavy, and he trembled</div> - <div class="i0">Lest he'd sink his grand canoe;</div> - <div class="i0">Soon he came to where 'twas clearer,</div> - <div class="i0">And the bottom he could see,</div> - <div class="i0">So he looked, and saw the bottom,</div> - <div class="i0">Saw the bottom of the sea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There he saw the song he wanted</div> - <div class="i0">Lying <em>far beyond his reach</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">Lying just within his vision,</div> - <div class="i0">But beyond the reach of boat-hook.</div> - <div class="i0">There it lay in all its armour,</div> - <div class="i0">Fenced about with ugly words,</div> - <div class="i0">Indian names and Indian notions,</div> - <div class="i0">Painted too, with various colours,</div> - <div class="i0">Earthy, very earthy, too.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Muddyminded cast about him,</div> - <div class="i0">How he'd bring this song to light:—</div> - <div class="i0">"Take my bait, you Indian Poem!"</div> - <div class="i0">Cried he down the depths below,</div> - <div class="i0">Then sat waiting for an answer,</div> - <div class="i0">For an answer from below.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Quiet lay the Indian Story,</div> - <div class="i0">Nor would listen to his clamour;</div> - <div class="i0">Turned he to another tale though,—</div> - <div class="i0">E<span class="smcapa">UANGLEEN</span>,—six-footed monster,</div> - <div class="i0">And he bade him take the bait, that</div> - <div class="i0">Still was dangling to and fro:</div> - <div class="i0">E<span class="smcapa">UANGLEEN</span> he rose to take it;</div> - <div class="i0">Muddyminded liked him not,</div> - <div class="i0">And he shouted through the water,</div> - <div class="i0">"Pesta! Pesta! shame upon you!</div> - <div class="i0">You are not a Poem at all,</div> - <div class="i0">You are one six-footed monster,</div> - <div class="i0">You are not the song I wanted."</div> - <div class="i0">Then went downward swift and certain</div> - <div class="i0">Down the depths of dark oblivion,</div> - <div class="i0">Disappointed E<span class="smcapa">UANGLEEN</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then the mighty Indian Poem</div> - <div class="i0">Said to G<span class="smcapa">OLDEN</span> L<span class="smcapa">EG</span>, another,</div> - <div class="i0">"Take the bait of this great boaster,</div> - <div class="i0">Break his line, and spoil his trade!"</div> - <div class="i0">But again did Muddyminded</div> - <div class="i0">Shout derision as he rose,</div> - <div class="i0">"Pesta! Pesta! shame upon you!</div> - <div class="i0">You are but a lame imposture,</div> - <div class="i0">Fame will never call you Poem,</div> - <div class="i0">You are not the song I wanted."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Then upleapt this Indian Story,</div> - <div class="i0">Legend rude, but fierce and strong—</div> - <div class="i0">High enough he leapt, to show us</div> - <div class="i0">What he might be could we tame him,</div> - <div class="i0">Could there but a real Magician</div> - <div class="i0">Disenchant him, and control.</div> - <div class="i0">His great jaws he op'ed, and swallowed</div> - <div class="i0">Both canoe and Muddyminded.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Down into that dark oblivion</div> - <div class="i0">Plunged the hapless Muddyminded,—</div> - <div class="i0">As a log on some black river</div> - <div class="i0">Down the rapids plunges soon,</div> - <div class="i0">Found himself in utter darkness,</div> - <div class="i0">Thought he had been there before,</div> - <div class="i0">Groped about, and groped, and wondered,</div> - <div class="i0">Wondered, groped, and groped the more.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">J. W. M.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In 1856, a small shilling volume of 120 pages -was published by George Routledge and Co., -as a companion to Longfellow's <em>Hiawatha</em>. -This was entitled, "<em>The Song of Drop o' Wather</em>, a -London legend, by Harry Wandsworth Shortfellow," -and is now scarce. It commences thus:—</p> - - -<h3>A<span class="smcapa">POLOGY FOR THERE BEING NO</span> P<span class="smcapa">REFACE</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>A<span class="smcapa">UTHOR</span> (<em>considering</em>). "People expect a preface; and -this is the place for one. But there is no preface in the -great 'Indian Edda' which has occasioned this poem. The -author of that work gives his explanation to the public in -the Notes and Vocabulary; then, of course, mine also, -ought (and is) to be found in the Notes and Vocabulary to -'The Song of Drop o' Wather.'"</p></blockquote> - -<p>Then follow the contents, consisting of an -Introduction and thirteen chapters, namely:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"> I. Drop o' Wather's Childhood.</div> - <div class="i0"> II. Drop o' Wather and Pudgy-Wheezy.</div> - <div class="i0"> III. Drop o' Wather's Fasting.</div> - <div class="i0"> IV. Drop o' Wather's Friends.</div> - <div class="i0"> V. Drop o' Wather's Filching.</div> - <div class="i0"> VI. Drop o' Wather's Wooing.</div> - <div class="i0"> VII. Drop o' Wather's Wedding.</div> - <div class="i0">VIII. The Ghost of the Star and Garter.</div> - <div class="i0"> IX. Bilking the Runners.</div> - <div class="i0"> X. Paw-Paw-Keeneyes.</div> - <div class="i0"> XI. The Hunting of Paw-Paw-Keeneyes.</div> - <div class="i0"> XII. The Fate of Queershin.</div> - <div class="i0">XIII. Drop o' Water's Departure.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In its completeness and closeness of imitation, -this anonymous work is the best parody extant -of the <em>Song of Hiawatha</em>. From the introduction, -and the first chapter, it will be gathered that the -hero is a poor little gutter child, who grows up to -be a thief. The following chapters trace his career -in crime, and the last describes his departure to -Australia as a repentant emigrant.</p> - - -<h3>THE SONG OF DROP O' WATHER.</h3> - -<p class="center">I<span class="smcapa">NTRODUCTION.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">E</span> who love the haunts of Town-Life,</div> - <div class="i0">Love the kennel and the gutter,</div> - <div class="i0">Love the doorway of the gin-shop,</div> - <div class="i0">Love the mud about the kerb-stones,</div> - <div class="i0">And the drippings from the houses,</div> - <div class="i0">And the splashing of the rain-spouts</div> - <div class="i0">Through their palisade of gratings,</div> - <div class="i0">And the thunder of the coaches,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose innumerable echoes,</div> - <div class="i0">Roar like sea-waves on the shingle;—</div> - <div class="i0">Listen to these wild traditions,</div> - <div class="i0">To this song of Drop o' Wather!</div> - <div class="i1">Ye who love a nation's legends,</div> - <div class="i0">Love the ballads of a people,</div> - <div class="i0">That like voices from afar off</div> - <div class="i0">Call to us to stop and listen,</div> - <div class="i0">Speak in tones so hoarse and roopy,</div> - <div class="i0">Scarcely can the ear distinguish</div> - <div class="i0">Whether they are hummed or shouted;—</div> - <div class="i0">Listen to this London Legend,</div> - <div class="i0">To this song of Drop o' Wather!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>I.<br /> - -D<span class="smcapa">ROP O</span>' W<span class="smcapa">ATHER'S</span> C<span class="smcapa">HILDHOOD</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Downward through the darkening twilight,</div> - <div class="i0">In the days long time ago, now,</div> - <div class="i0">In the last of drunken stages,</div> - <div class="i0">By the Half-Moon fell poor Norah,</div> - <div class="i0">On the pavement fell poor Norah,</div> - <div class="i0">Just about to be a mother.</div> - <div class="i1">She'd been tippling with some women,</div> - <div class="i0">Just within the Wine-Vaults' swing-door,</div> - <div class="i0">When her Gossip, out of mischief,</div> - <div class="i0">Partly idle, partly spiteful,</div> - <div class="i0">Pushed the swing-door from behind her,</div> - <div class="i0">Pushed in twain the Wine-Vaults' door-flap,</div> - <div class="i0">And poor Norah tumbled backward,</div> - <div class="i0">Downward through the darkening twilight,</div> - <div class="i0">On the gangway foul, the pavement,</div> - <div class="i0">On the gangway foul with mud-stains.</div> - <div class="i0">"See! a wench falls!" cried the people;</div> - <div class="i0">Look, a tipsy wench is falling!"</div> - <div class="i1">There amidst the gaping starers,</div> - <div class="i0">There amidst the idle passers,</div> - <div class="i0">On the gangway foul, the pavement,</div> - <div class="i0">In the murky darkened twilight,</div> - <div class="i0">Poor drunk Norah bore a boy-babe.</div> - <div class="i0">Thus was born young Drop o' Wather,</div> - <div class="i0">Thus was born the child of squalor.</div> - <div class="i0">He was named, by those who knew him,</div> - <div class="i0">Out of joke, and fun, and larking,</div> - <div class="i0">For what's called an Irish reason,</div> - <div class="i0">Or, by folks who sport the Classics,</div> - <div class="i0">A <em>lucus a non lucendo</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">Like, for all it is so unlike,</div> - <div class="i0">Hold a thing to be another,</div> - <div class="i0">For the sake of contradiction,</div> - <div class="i0">Or the sake of droll connection;</div> - <div class="i0">So the folks who knew our hero,</div> - <div class="i0">Gave his nickname for this reason,—</div> - <div class="i0">'Cause his mother never touched a</div> - <div class="i0">Drop of Water in her lifetime.</div> - <div class="i1">At the door on fine spring evenings,</div> - <div class="i0">Played the little Drop o' Wather;</div> - <div class="i0">Heard the cry of "Buy my inguns!"</div> - <div class="i0">Heard the cry "Young raddyshees, yere"</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Calls of cadger, costermonger;</div> - <div class="i0">"Bilin'-apples!" said the huckster;</div> - <div class="i0">"Pies-all 'ot!" still said the pieman.</div> - <div class="i1">Saw the pot-boy, Wall-eyed Tommy,</div> - <div class="i0">Trudging through the dusk of evening,</div> - <div class="i0">With the shrillness of his whistle</div> - <div class="i0">Piercing all the courts and alleys.</div> - <div class="i0">And he sang the song of street-boys.</div> - <div class="i0">Sang the song the pot-boy taught him;—</div> - <div class="i0">"Wall-eyed Tommy, he's the cove, boys!</div> - <div class="i0">He's the ranting, roaring blade, boys!</div> - <div class="i0">He's the lad, the daring fellow!</div> - <div class="i0">He's the chap, to carry ale-cans,</div> - <div class="i0">Pots of beer, and all them 'ere boys!"</div> - <div class="i1">Saw the balls at the pawnbroker's,</div> - <div class="i0">Balls alike, and three in number,</div> - <div class="i0">Saw the gold and burnish on them,</div> - <div class="i0">Bawled, "What are those? I say, mother!"</div> - <div class="i0">And the fuddled Norah answered,</div> - <div class="i0">"Once a cricketer, when angry,</div> - <div class="i0">Seized his ball, and bowling, threw it</div> - <div class="i0">Up against the shop times threefold,</div> - <div class="i0">Right against the shop he threw it;</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis its tri-ghost that you see there."</div> - <div class="i1">Saw the gallows near the prison,</div> - <div class="i0">In the morning sky, the gallows;</div> - <div class="i0">Bawled, "What is that? I say mother!"</div> - <div class="i0">And the fuddled Norah answered,</div> - <div class="i0">"'Tis the gallows-tree, the gibbet;</div> - <div class="i0">All the naughty boys of London,</div> - <div class="i0">All the wicked ones and careless,</div> - <div class="i0">When in town they steal and pilfer,</div> - <div class="i0">Hang on that 'ere tree above us."</div> - <div class="i1">When he heard the thieves at midnight,</div> - <div class="i0">Hooting, laughing in the alley,</div> - <div class="i0">"What is that?" he cried half frightened;</div> - <div class="i0">"What is that? Now tell me, mother!"</div> - <div class="i0">And the fuddled Norah answered,</div> - <div class="i0">"That's the thieves and prigs together,</div> - <div class="i0">Talking in their own cant language,</div> - <div class="i0">Hoaxing, chaffing one another."</div> - <div class="i1">Then the little Drop o' Wather</div> - <div class="i0">Learned of all the thieves their language;</div> - <div class="i0">Learned their slang and learned their by-words,</div> - <div class="i0">Twigged their nicknames, knew their lodgings,</div> - <div class="i0">Where they hid themselves from justice;</div> - <div class="i0">Talked with them whene'er he met them,</div> - <div class="i0">Called them "Drop o' Wather's Cronies."</div> - <div class="i1">Of all prigs he learned the language,</div> - <div class="i0">Learned their gag, and all their secrets.</div> - <div class="i0">Found out all their haunts and dodges,</div> - <div class="i0">Picked up where they hid their booty,</div> - <div class="i0">How they packed the swag so closely,</div> - <div class="i0">Why they fought so shy and wary;</div> - <div class="i0">Talked with them whene'er he met them,</div> - <div class="i0">Called them "Drop o' Wather's Brothers."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>II.<br /> - -D<span class="smcapa">ROP O</span>' W<span class="smcapa">ATHER AND</span> P<span class="smcapa">UDGY</span>-W<span class="smcapa">HEEZY</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Out of childhood into manhood</div> - <div class="i0">Now had grown young Drop o' Wather,</div> - <div class="i0">Skilled in all the craft of filchers,</div> - <div class="i0">Learned in all the slang of robbers,</div> - <div class="i0">In all ways and means of cribbing,</div> - <div class="i0">In all knowing arts and dodges.</div> - <div class="i1">Swift of foot was Drop o' Wather;</div> - <div class="i0">He could pitch a pebble from him,</div> - <div class="i0">And run forward with such fleetness,</div> - <div class="i0">That the pebble fell behind him!</div> - <div class="i0">Strong of arm was Drop o' Wather;</div> - <div class="i0">He could fling ten pebbles upward,</div> - <div class="i0">Fling them with such strength and swiftness,</div> - <div class="i0">That the tenth had left his fingers</div> - <div class="i0">Ere the first to ground had fallen.</div> - <div class="i0">He had bludgeon, Millemlikefun,</div> - <div class="i0">Good strong bludgeon, made of ash-wood;</div> - <div class="i0">When into his hand he took it,</div> - <div class="i0">He could smite a fellow's head off,</div> - <div class="i0">He could knock him into next week.</div> - <div class="i0">He had ankle-boots so jemmy,</div> - <div class="i0">Good strong ankle-boots of calf-skin;</div> - <div class="i0">When he put them on his trotters,</div> - <div class="i0">When he laced them up so tightly,</div> - <div class="i0">At each step three feet he measured.</div> - <div class="i1">From his lair went Drop o' Wather</div> - <div class="i0">Dressed for roving, armed for plunder;</div> - <div class="i0">Dressed in shooting-jacket natty,</div> - <div class="i0">Velveteen, with pearl-white buttons;</div> - <div class="i0">On his head a spick-and-span tile,</div> - <div class="i0">Round his waist a vest of scarlet;</div> - <div class="i0">In his mouth a sprig of shamrock,</div> - <div class="i0">In his breast a dashing brooch-pin,</div> - <div class="i0">Gold mosaic, set with sham stones;</div> - <div class="i0">With his bludgeon, Millemlikefun,</div> - <div class="i0">With his ankle-boots so jemmy.</div> - <div class="i1">Warning said old fuddled Norah,</div> - <div class="i0">"Go not forth, son Drop o' Wather,</div> - <div class="i0">To the quarter of the West-End,</div> - <div class="i0">To the regions, Hyde-Park, May Fair,</div> - <div class="i0">Lest they nab you (chaps from Bow-street),</div> - <div class="i0">Lest they clap you into prison."</div> - <div class="i1">But the daring Drop o' Wather</div> - <div class="i0">Heeded not her woman's warning;</div> - <div class="i0">Forth he went along the alley,</div> - <div class="i0">At each step three feet he measured;</div> - <div class="i0">Tempting looked the shops about him,</div> - <div class="i0">Tempting looked the things within them;</div> - <div class="i0">Bright and fine the showy jewels,</div> - <div class="i0">Smart and gay the newest fashions,</div> - <div class="i0">Brown and smooth cigars in boxes,</div> - <div class="i0">All that set his heart a-longing,</div> - <div class="i0">Longing with the wish to crib them.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>XIII.<br /> - -D<span class="smcapa">ROP O</span>' W<span class="smcapa">ATHER'S</span> D<span class="smcapa">EPARTURE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Now remains for me to tell of</div> - <div class="i0">How he ended, Drop o' Wather;</div> - <div class="i0">What befell him, after all his</div> - <div class="i0">Knowing doings in the course of</div> - <div class="i0">His career, his life in London.</div> - <div class="i0">He had run his rigs so clever,</div> - <div class="i0">He had risked so very closely,</div> - <div class="i0">He had just avoided Newgate,</div> - <div class="i0">He had narrowly 'scaped hanging;</div> - <div class="i0">And a dream he had one midnight,</div> - <div class="i0">Brought him to a sense of danger.</div> - <div class="i0">Thus he dreamed; 'twas really awful.</div> - <div class="i1">Not far off from Bedford Bury,</div> - <div class="i0">By the muddy Big-Thame-Water,</div> - <div class="i0">At the doorway of his lodging,</div> - <div class="i0">Thought he stood one rainy morning,</div> - <div class="i0">Thought he stood there, lounging idly,</div> - <div class="i0">Watching fall the sooty raindrops</div> - <div class="i0">From the eaves and roofs of houses,</div> - <div class="i0">Watching fill the dirty puddles,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Splashed and speckled with the drizzle;</div> - <div class="i0">Flowed in filthy streams the gutters,</div> - <div class="i0">Flowed the spouts as they ran over;</div> - <div class="i0">Pouring, pelting, came the shower.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Through the alley, sudden, briskly,</div> - <div class="i0">Something in the hazy distance,</div> - <div class="i0">Something in the misty morning,</div> - <div class="i0">Came along the dripping pavement,</div> - <div class="i0">Now seemed hurrying, now seemed hasting,</div> - <div class="i0">Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.</div> - <div class="i1">Was it Dingledong, the dustman?</div> - <div class="i0">Was it Twopenny, the postman?</div> - <div class="i0">Or the cobbler, Shoe-shoe-mender,</div> - <div class="i0">Or the milkman, Water-well-it,</div> - <div class="i0">With the raindrops dripping, dashing</div> - <div class="i0">Profitably in the milk-cans?</div> - <div class="i1">It was neither milkman, dustman,</div> - <div class="i0">Cobbler, postman, none of those men,</div> - <div class="i0">Coming on that misty morning;</div> - <div class="i0">But a set of sturdy fellows,</div> - <div class="i0">Fast advancing up the alley,</div> - <div class="i0">Striding, splashing through the raindrops,</div> - <div class="i0">Come with warrant strictly formal,</div> - <div class="i0">From the distant Police-office,</div> - <div class="i0">From Marlborough Street that morning,</div> - <div class="i0">Come with magistrate's command to</div> - <div class="i0">Apprehend and promptly take up</div> - <div class="i0">Drop o' Wather for his trial.</div> - <div class="i1">Then he thought he dreamed the scene of</div> - <div class="i0">His conviction, condemnation;</div> - <div class="i0">How he saw the Court dense crowded,</div> - <div class="i0">Crowded with indignant faces;</div> - <div class="i0">How he saw the dock, where he stood,</div> - <div class="i0">How he saw the Bench, where Judge sat,</div> - <div class="i0">How he saw the box for jury,</div> - <div class="i0">Where the twelve sat looking fateful;</div> - <div class="i0">Saw the Judge rise up and cover</div> - <div class="i0">With black cap his hair of silver;</div> - <div class="i0">Heard the word of solemn verdict,—</div> - <div class="i0">"Guilty!" Words of fearful sentence,—</div> - <div class="i0">"Hanged by neck," and "dead, dead, dead," last.</div> - <div class="i1">Thought he fainted quite away there,</div> - <div class="i0">And was carried straight to Newgate;</div> - <div class="i0">In the dreary cell of felon,</div> - <div class="i0">In condemned cell chained with fetters,</div> - <div class="i0">There to 'wait the time appointed</div> - <div class="i0">For his final execution.</div> - <div class="i1">Dreamed he saw the black-robed Chaplain</div> - <div class="i0">Come to speak of consolation;</div> - <div class="i0">Dreamed he heard the words of comfort</div> - <div class="i0">Sounding strangely (Ah, how strangely!—</div> - <div class="i0">Sad to think how very strangely</div> - <div class="i0">Come those words to ear of culprit,</div> - <div class="i0">Never taught to seek their lessons,</div> - <div class="i0">Never taught to know their meaning!)</div> - <div class="i1">Dreamed he saw the fatal gibbet,</div> - <div class="i0">Dreamed he saw the upturned faces</div> - <div class="i0">Of the multitude below him;</div> - <div class="i0">Dreamed he felt Jack Ketch's fingers</div> - <div class="i0">Busy round his neck, adjusting</div> - <div class="i0">Noose of rope that was to hang him</div> - <div class="i0">Like a dog, not human creature!</div> - <div class="i1">Dreamed that in that awful moment,</div> - <div class="i0">Came a shout, a cry, a calling;</div> - <div class="i0">Dreamed he heard "Reprieve!" loud shouted.</div> - <div class="i0">Dreamed he heard of transportation</div> - <div class="i0">Being his commuted sentence.</div> - <div class="i1">This last thought possessed him wholly</div> - <div class="i0">When he woke, and found he'd dreamed all.</div> - <div class="i0">Grave he pondered, till it struck him,</div> - <div class="i0">That he'd carry out the substance</div> - <div class="i0">Of that portion of his dreaming,</div> - <div class="i0">Where he felt relieved from terror.</div> - <div class="i0">He resolved to seek his fortune</div> - <div class="i0">In a fresh new scene of action;</div> - <div class="i0">He determined on the scheme of</div> - <div class="i0">Nothing less than transportation,</div> - <div class="i0">Voluntary transportation,</div> - <div class="i0">Willing, prompt, self-transportation,</div> - <div class="i0">Most transporting transportation,—</div> - <div class="i0">In words other,—emigration.</div> - <div class="i1">And he said to mother Norah,</div> - <div class="i0">To his wife his Minnie Wather,</div> - <div class="i0">Better half, his Frisky-Whisky,</div> - <div class="i0">"I've made up my mind to try and</div> - <div class="i0">Live a new life, life more dacent;</div> - <div class="i0">So let's go and try what turns up</div> - <div class="i0">In the New World over yonder."</div> - <div class="i1">On the deck stood Drop o' Wather,</div> - <div class="i0">Turned and waved his hat at parting;</div> - <div class="i0">On the deck of the good vessel,</div> - <div class="i0">Outward bound for the long voyage,</div> - <div class="i0">Stood and waved his hat at parting</div> - <div class="i0">From the dear old Mother Country.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Then a pause; and then he shouted,</div> - <div class="i0">Shouted loudly Drop o' Wather:</div> - <div class="i0">"Southward! Southward! now then, Southward!"</div> - <div class="i0">And the ship went sailing forward</div> - <div class="i0">On her way of trust and promise,</div> - <div class="i0">Southward, southward; Drop o' Wather</div> - <div class="i0">Looking steadfastly before him,</div> - <div class="i0">As confronting firm the future.</div> - <div class="i1">And his people gave a loud cheer,</div> - <div class="i0">Just to cheer him up at parting,</div> - <div class="i0">As the ship sailed southward, southward;</div> - <div class="i0">And they cried, "Good-bye, my boy, then!</div> - <div class="i0">Good bye, Norah! Good-bye, Minnie!</div> - <div class="i0">Take good care of yourselves, darlints!</div> - <div class="i0">Let us know how you all get on!</div> - <div class="i0">Best of all good luck go wid' ye!</div> - <div class="i0">So God bless ye! and God speed ye!"</div> - <div class="i1">Thus departed Drop o' Wather,</div> - <div class="i0">Drop o' Wather, the fine fellow,</div> - <div class="i0">With his trust of doing better,</div> - <div class="i0">With, at least, that firm intention.</div> - <div class="i0">To the regions of the New World,</div> - <div class="i0">Of the Bay entitled Bot'ny,</div> - <div class="i0">To the Island of New Holland,</div> - <div class="i0">To another "New" New South Wales,</div> - <div class="i0">To the land of hope, Australia!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This clever parody is followed by amusing -burlesque notes, the first of which thus explains -the origin of <em>The Song of Drop o' Wather</em>.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"This London Legend—if it may be so called—has been -suggested by an interesting Indian tradition, given to the -world in the form of a beautiful poem. The picturesque -scenery, vivid description, and glowing imagery to be found -in that production, are fully felt; while their charm is no -more disparaged by the present sportive trifle, than the -sublimity of Shakespeare has been lessened by the burlesques -and parodies that have been made from time to time upon -his great dramas. The tragedy of <em>Hamlet</em> is exalted, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -lowered, by Mr. Poole's admirably clever travestie. The -mere fact of burlesquing a work avouches its excellence—certainly -its popularity."</p></blockquote> - -<p>It is much to be regretted that the author of -this amusing work should remain unknown.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Mr. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell's <em>Puck on -Pegasus</em> (Chatto and Windus) has gone through -so many editions, and is such a favourite book, -that his imitation of <em>Hiawatha</em> is familiar to -most people. The author has recently somewhat -modified its opening lines. As thus -altered it will shortly appear in a selection of -Mr. H. C. Pennell's poems, and he has kindly -allowed me to include it in this collection.</p> - -<p>The original poem in <em>Puck on Pegasus</em> commenced -thus:—</p> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> I<span class="smcapa">N</span>-<span class="smcapa">THE</span>-W<span class="smcapa">ATER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">When the summer night descended,</div> - <div class="i2">Sleepy, on the White-witch water,</div> - <div class="i1">Came a lithe and lovely maiden,</div> - <div class="i2">Gazing on the silent water—</div> - <div class="i1">Gazing on the gleaming river,</div> - <div class="i1">With her azure eyes and tender,—</div> - <div class="i0">On the river glancing forward,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the laughing wave sprang upward,</div> - <div class="i1">Upward from his reedy hollow,</div> - <div class="i1">With the lily in his bosom,</div> - <div class="i1">With his crown of water-lilies—</div> - <div class="i1">Curling ev'ry dimpled ripple</div> - <div class="i1">As he sprung into the starlight,</div> - <div class="i1">As he clasped her charmed reflection</div> - <div class="i1">Glowing to his crystal bosom—</div> - <div class="i0">As he whispered, "Fairest, fairest,</div> - <div class="i1">Rest upon this crystal bosom!"</div> - <div class="i3">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the new version the title has been changed, -and some of the opening lines altered, but from -the point where the above extract closes to the -end of the poem, the two versions are very -similar, and the later one is quoted in full:—</p> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">OWER</span>-W<span class="smcapa">ATER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When the summer Moon was sleeping</div> - <div class="i0">On the Sands of Lower-Water—</div> - <div class="i0">By the Lowest Water Margin—</div> - <div class="i0">At the mark of Dead Low Water,—</div> - <div class="i0">Came a lithe and lovely maiden,</div> - <div class="i0">Crinolina, Wand'ring Whiteness,</div> - <div class="i0">Gazing on the ebbing water—</div> - <div class="i0">Gazing on the gleaming river—</div> - <div class="i0">With her azure eyes and tender,—</div> - <div class="i0">On the river glancing forward,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the laughing Wave sprang upward,</div> - <div class="i0">From his throne in Lower-Water,—</div> - <div class="i0">Upwards from his reedy hollow,</div> - <div class="i0">With the lily in his bosom,</div> - <div class="i0">With his crown of water-lilies—</div> - <div class="i0">Curling ev'ry dimpled ripple</div> - <div class="i0">As he leapt into the starlight,</div> - <div class="i0">As he clasped her charmed reflection</div> - <div class="i0">Glowing to his crystal bosom—</div> - <div class="i0">As he whisper'd "Wand'ring Whiteness,</div> - <div class="i0">Rest upon my crystal bosom!</div> - <div class="i0">Join this little water party."...</div> - <div class="i0">Yet she spoke not, only murmured:—</div> - <div class="i0">Down into the water stept she,</div> - <div class="i0">Lowest Water—Dead Low Water—</div> - <div class="i0">Down into the wavering river,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a red deer in the sunset—</div> - <div class="i0">Like a ripe leaf in the autumn:</div> - <div class="i0">From her lips, as rose-buds snow-filled,</div> - <div class="i0">Came a soft and dreamy music,</div> - <div class="i0">Softer than the breath of summer,</div> - <div class="i0">Softer than the murm'ring river,</div> - <div class="i0">Than the cooing of Cushawa,—</div> - <div class="i0">Sighs that melted as the snows melt,</div> - <div class="i0">Silently and sweetly melted;</div> - <div class="i0">Sounds that mingled with the crisping</div> - <div class="i0">Foam upon the billow resting:—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Still she spoke not, only murmured.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From the forest shade primeval,</div> - <div class="i0">Piggey-Wiggey looked out at her;</div> - <div class="i0">He the most Successful Squeaker—</div> - <div class="i0">He the very Youthful Porker—</div> - <div class="i0">He the Everlasting Grunter—</div> - <div class="i0">Gazed upon her there, and wondered!</div> - <div class="i0">With his nose out, Rokey-pokey—</div> - <div class="i0">And his tail up, Curley-wurley—</div> - <div class="i0">Wondered what could be the matter,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wondered what the girl was up to—</div> - <div class="i0">What the deuce her little game was....</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And she floated down the river,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a water-witch'd Ophelia....</div> - <div class="i0">F<span class="smcapa">OR HER CRINOLINE SUSTAINED HER</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">ALLFLOWERS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">WO</span> belated men from Oxford,</div> - <div class="i0">Members of a nameless college—</div> - <div class="i0">Pip, the philosophic smoker,</div> - <div class="i0">And his friend they called the Fluffer—</div> - <div class="i0">Men belated in the country,</div> - <div class="i0">Lost their way geologising;</div> - <div class="i0">Reached the city after midnight,</div> - <div class="i0">After lawful hour of entry,</div> - <div class="i0">By the gateway of the college.</div> - <div class="i0">And they did not rouse the porter,</div> - <div class="i0">For they knew the dean was wrathful,</div> - <div class="i0">And had vowed a weighty vengeance,</div> - <div class="i0">If a man knocked in belated.</div> - <div class="i1">But they gat them round a back way,</div> - <div class="i0">Where a wall divides the college</div> - <div class="i0">From intrusion of the vulgar.</div> - <div class="i0">Stole they down a lonely footpath,</div> - <div class="i0">And they halted where a sapling</div> - <div class="i0">Very near the wall was growing;</div> - <div class="i0">And above an ancient elm-tree</div> - <div class="i0">Stretched a downward arm in welcome,</div> - <div class="i0">To embrace the little sapling.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> - <div class="i1">Each in turn his toe adapted,</div> - <div class="i0">Where a crevice in the stonework,</div> - <div class="i0">In the worn and ancient stonework,</div> - <div class="i0">Gave a short precarious foothold</div> - <div class="i0">While they climbed the little sapling.</div> - <div class="i1">Pip had scaled the wall, and sitting,</div> - <div class="i0">Helped the Fluffer struggling upwards,</div> - <div class="i0">When a Bobby, a policeman,</div> - <div class="i0">Irreproachable policeman,</div> - <div class="i0">Came upon them round the corner,</div> - <div class="i0">And remarked, "Gents, I have caught you;</div> - <div class="i0">You're a pretty pair of wallflowers!"</div> - <div class="i0">Then the Fluffer answered briefly,</div> - <div class="i0">Answered, "Bobby, you have caught us,"</div> - <div class="i0">And the careful Pip, the smoker,</div> - <div class="i0">From his seat upon the wall-top,</div> - <div class="i0">Echoed, "I believe you've caught us."</div> - <div class="i1">But the Bobby, the policeman,</div> - <div class="i0">Said, "I have not seen you do it—</div> - <div class="i0">Seen you over any wall get;</div> - <div class="i0">And perhaps I should not see you,</div> - <div class="i0">If I happened to be looking</div> - <div class="i0">In an opposite direction,</div> - <div class="i0">With my back turned right upon you."</div> - <div class="i0">Nothing further said the Bobby,</div> - <div class="i0">Irreproachable policeman,</div> - <div class="i0">Only grinned, and seemed to linger.</div> - <div class="i1">Quick then Pip pulled up the Fluffer,</div> - <div class="i0">And inquired, "Old fellow, Fluffer,</div> - <div class="i0">Have you any coin about you?"</div> - <div class="i0">And the Fluffer from his pockets,</div> - <div class="i0">Brought the bob, the silver shilling,</div> - <div class="i0">And the piece of six, the tizzy,</div> - <div class="i0">And the piece of four, the joey,</div> - <div class="i0">And the double bob, the florin.</div> - <div class="i0">Down he threw them on the pathway;</div> - <div class="i0">Then the Bobby, the policeman,</div> - <div class="i0">Irreproachable policeman,</div> - <div class="i0">Picked them up, and whispered softly,</div> - <div class="i0">Somebody had dropped some money;</div> - <div class="i0">He was lucky to have found it.</div> - <div class="i1">After that did Pip, the smoker,</div> - <div class="i0">And his friend they called the Fluffer,</div> - <div class="i0">Get across the wall securely;</div> - <div class="i0">But the Bobby, the policeman,</div> - <div class="i0">Irreproachable policeman,</div> - <div class="i0">Did not see them get across it;</div> - <div class="i0">For he happened to be looking</div> - <div class="i0">In an opposite direction,</div> - <div class="i0">And his back was turned upon them.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>Odd Echoes from Oxford</em>, by A. Merion, B.A.</p> - -<p>J. C. Hotten, 1872.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> N<span class="smcapa">ICOTINE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Should you ask me why this meerschaum,</div> - <div class="i0">Why these clay-pipes and churchwardens,</div> - <div class="i0">With the odours of tobacco,</div> - <div class="i0">With the oil and fume of "mixture,"</div> - <div class="i0">With the curling smoke of "bird's eye,"</div> - <div class="i0">With the gurgling of rank juices,</div> - <div class="i0">With renewed expectorations</div> - <div class="i0">As of sickness on the fore-deck?</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you,</div> - <div class="i0">From the cabbage, and the dust-heaps,</div> - <div class="i0">From the old leeks of the Welshland,</div> - <div class="i0">From the soil of kitchen gardens,</div> - <div class="i0">From the mud of London sewers,</div> - <div class="i0">From the garden-plots and churchyards,</div> - <div class="i0">Where the linnet and cock-sparrow</div> - <div class="i0">Feed upon the weeds and groundsel,</div> - <div class="i0">I receive them as I buy them</div> - <div class="i0">From the boxes of Havana,</div> - <div class="i0">The concocter, the weird wizard.</div> - <div class="i1">Should you ask how this Havana</div> - <div class="i0">Made cigars so strong and soothing,</div> - <div class="i0">Made the "bird's eye," and "York-river,"</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you,</div> - <div class="i0">In the purlieus of the cities,</div> - <div class="i0">In the cellars of the warehouse,</div> - <div class="i0">In the dampness of the dungeon,</div> - <div class="i0">Lie the rotten weeds that serve him;</div> - <div class="i0">In the gutters and the sewers,</div> - <div class="i0">In the melancholy alleys,</div> - <div class="i0">Half-clad Arab boys collect them,</div> - <div class="i0">Crossing-sweepers bring them to him,</div> - <div class="i0">Costermongers keep them for him,</div> - <div class="i0">And he turns them by his magic</div> - <div class="i0">Into "cavendish" and "bird's-eye,"</div> - <div class="i0">For those clay-pipes and churchwardens,</div> - <div class="i0">For this meerschaum, or he folds them,</div> - <div class="i0">And "cigars" he duly labels</div> - <div class="i0">On the box in which he sells them.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>Figaro</em>, October 7, 1874.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following is an extract from a long -parody contained in <em>Lays of Modern Oxford</em>, by -<em>Adon</em> (Chapman and Hall, 1874.)</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">UMP</span> S<span class="smcapa">UPPER</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">"<em>Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero Pulsanda tellus.</em>"</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> shall hear how once our college,</div> - <div class="i0">When our boat had done great wonders,</div> - <div class="i0">And had bumped all boats before it,</div> - <div class="i0">Gave a great and grand bump-supper.</div> - <div class="i0">First the scouts, the sherry-swiggers,</div> - <div class="i0">And the scouts' boys, beer-imbibers,</div> - <div class="i0">Spread the things upon the table.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And they placed upon the table</div> - <div class="i0">Champagne-cup and rosy claret.</div> - <div class="i0">When the lamp-black night descended</div> - <div class="i0">Broad and dark upon the college,</div> - <div class="i0">When the reading man, the bookworm,</div> - <div class="i0">Grinding, sat among his Greek books,</div> - <div class="i0">With his oak securely sported,</div> - <div class="i0">And his tea-cup on the table,</div> - <div class="i0">From their rooms in groups assembled</div> - <div class="i0">Many guests to this great supper.</div> - <div class="i0">Came the boating men in numbers,</div> - <div class="i0">Came the cricketers in numbers,</div> - <div class="i0">Came the athletes clothed with muscle,</div> - <div class="i0">Came the singers, and the jesters,</div> - <div class="i0">And the jokers, funny fellows;</div> - <div class="i0">Came the active gymnast Biceps,</div> - <div class="i0">Also Pugilis, his comrade,</div> - <div class="i0">Very clever with the mittens;</div> - <div class="i0">Came our sturdy plucky boat's crew,</div> - <div class="i0">Remex Princeps, and his comrades,</div> - <div class="i0">And the steerer, Gubernator.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> - <div class="i0">All were hungry, all were merry,</div> - <div class="i0">Full of repartee and laughter.</div> - <div class="i0">First they ate the slippy oyster,</div> - <div class="i0">Native oyster, cool and luscious,</div> - <div class="i0">And the ruddy blushing lobster,</div> - <div class="i0">And the crab so rich and tasty;</div> - <div class="i0">Then they ate the cold roast chicken,</div> - <div class="i0">And the finely flavoured ox-tongue,</div> - <div class="i0">And the cold roast mutton sheep's flesh,</div> - <div class="i0">And the pigeon-pie, the dove-tart,</div> - <div class="i0">And the well stuffed duck and turkey,</div> - <div class="i0">With the sausages around it.</div> - <div class="i0">Thus the guests, the mutton munchers,</div> - <div class="i0">Played the noble game of chew-chew,</div> - <div class="i0">Game of knife and fork and tumblers,</div> - <div class="i0">Very popular in Oxford.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then a man, who came from Cornwall,</div> - <div class="i0">Sang a song that clearly stated</div> - <div class="i0">If a person named Trelawny,</div> - <div class="i0">Should by any hap or hazard,</div> - <div class="i0">Leave the world by death untimely,</div> - <div class="i0">Many people in the south-west</div> - <div class="i0">Part of England would insist on</div> - <div class="i0">Knowing wherefore he had left it.</div> - <div class="i0">Then the cheeky smiling Ginger</div> - <div class="i0">Sang of lovely Angelina,</div> - <div class="i0">Lady with the Grecian bend, and</div> - <div class="i0">Of the maiden dressed in azure,</div> - <div class="i0">With both eyes and hair of darkness.</div> - <div class="i0">Then the guests said, "Sing some more songs;</div> - <div class="i0">Sing to us immortal Ginger,</div> - <div class="i0">Songs of laughter quaint and comic,</div> - <div class="i0">With a merry roaring chorus,</div> - <div class="i0">That we all may be more noisy.</div> - <div class="i0">And the sleeping dons may waken."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All was shouting, noise, confusion,</div> - <div class="i0">Till at last the guests exhausted,</div> - <div class="i0">All departed hot and dizzy,</div> - <div class="i0">Thus the entertainment ended,</div> - <div class="i0">Thus the great bump-supper ended,</div> - <div class="i0">Long to be discussed and talked of,</div> - <div class="i0">Long to be remembered by the</div> - <div class="i0">College in the days hereafter.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">EGEND OF</span> K<span class="smcapa">EN-E-LI</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(From <em>Figaro</em>, August 11, 1875.)</p> - - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">High among the tribes of Jon-buls,</div> - <div class="i0">Was a tribe they called the Lor-yahs;</div> - <div class="i0">Very cunning were the Lor-yahs:</div> - <div class="i0">They could talk and twist and double</div> - <div class="i0">Till the other tribes of Jon-buls</div> - <div class="i0">Scarcely knew if they were standing</div> - <div class="i0">On their heads or on their sandals.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Chief among these learned Lor-yahs</div> - <div class="i0">Was the great and good Ken-e-li.</div> - <div class="i0">Brave and handsome, kind and gentle,</div> - <div class="i0">Soft in voice and smooth in manner,</div> - <div class="i0">Wise yet simple, strong yet tender,</div> - <div class="i0">Was the mighty chief Ken-e-li.</div> - <div class="i0">But the blind and stupid Jon-buls</div> - <div class="i0">Could not see his many virtues;</div> - <div class="i0">When he spake they shouted, "<em>Bun-kum!</em>"</div> - <div class="i0">And they scoffed at good Ken-e-li.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The poem then describes the gentle manners</div> - <div class="i0">of the inhabitants of the district An-lee, their</div> - <div class="i0">mild sports and pastimes, and how they chose</div> - <div class="i0">the great Ken-e-li to be their talking Em-pee in</div> - <div class="i0">the council of their nation, and the manner in</div> - <div class="i0">which he was received there.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> B<span class="smcapa">EETLE</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>[The following graceful effusion, by a well-known Longfellow-countryman -of the Colorado insect, should be hailed -with delight by the British public. As it contains an -accurate description of the Beetle, we would suggest that it -should be learned by heart by the Rector of Hitcham's -school-children, with a view to preventing entomological -mistakes.]</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Should you ask me of the Beetle,</div> - <div class="i0">Of the Colorado Beetle!—</div> - <div class="i0">Properly the <em>Doryphora</em></div> - <div class="i0"><em>Decemlineata</em> christen'd—</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you,</div> - <div class="i0">"He's a beggar for potatoes,</div> - <div class="i0">Quite a glutton at potatoes—</div> - <div class="i0">For he 'wolfs' the common 'murphy.'</div> - <div class="i0">The <em>Solanum tuberosum</em>.</div> - <div class="i0">(Thus the <em>savans</em> named the tater!")</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Should you ask me if the Beetle</div> - <div class="i0">Were at all like other beetles—</div> - <div class="i0">Like the 'chafer, for example,</div> - <div class="i0">Him whom boys impale on pin-point—</div> - <div class="i0">I should straight reply in this wise:</div> - <div class="i0">"He, when young, is like the insect</div> - <div class="i0">Whose abode is always burning,</div> - <div class="i0">She whose children are departed.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But when fourteen days have glided,</div> - <div class="i0">Then the Beetle is much longer;</div> - <div class="i0">Very much more pointed-taily,</div> - <div class="i0">Sharp as to his latter ending,</div> - <div class="i0">Red thus far has been his colour,</div> - <div class="i0">Red, the hue of guardsman's tunic,</div> - <div class="i0">Red, the tint of postal pillars.</div> - <div class="i0">But, as time and trouble try him,</div> - <div class="i0">This our insect grows much paler,</div> - <div class="i0">Fades and fades till he is yellow—</div> - <div class="i0">Yellow e'en as one dyspeptic,</div> - <div class="i0">Yellow with black stripes upon him."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Should you further ask the poet,</div> - <div class="i0">How to treat the little stranger?</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should bid you,</div> - <div class="i0">"Stamp on him, where'er you find him!</div> - <div class="i0">In the garden—in the pig-sty—</div> - <div class="i0">In the parlour or the bed-room—</div> - <div class="i0">In the roadway or the meadow—</div> - <div class="i0">Squash the little wretch, confound him!</div> - <div class="i0"><em>That's</em> the way that I should answer,—</div> - <div class="i0">That's the sort of man that <em>I</em> am."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">From <em>Funny Folks</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> - -<p>In 1879 the editor of <em>The World</em> offered two -prizes for the best parodies on Longfellow's -<em>Hiawatha</em>, the subject selected being <em>The Hunting -of Cetewayo</em>. There were 135 competitors, the -first prize was awarded to Floreant-Lauri, whose -poem will be found, with the three next best, in -<em>The World</em> for October 8, 1879.</p> - -<p class="center">The prize poem commenced as follows:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">V<span class="smcapa">ERY</span> wrath was Wolsey-Pullsey</div> - <div class="i0">When he landed at Fort Durban,</div> - <div class="i0">Hearing all the depredations</div> - <div class="i0">Of the cunning Cetewayo;</div> - <div class="i0">Called his captain Giffey-Wiffey,</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, "Catch this Cetewayo,</div> - <div class="i0">Muzzle thou this mischief-maker;</div> - <div class="i0">Not so tangled is the jungle,</div> - <div class="i0">Not so dark the deepest donga,</div> - <div class="i0">But that thou canst track and find him."</div> - <div class="i1">Then in hot pursuit departed</div> - <div class="i0">Giffey-Wiffey and his soldiers,</div> - <div class="i0">Through the jungle, through the forest;</div> - <div class="i0">But they found not Cetewayo—</div> - <div class="i0">Only found his bed and blanket.</div> - <div class="i1">From the farthest dingey-donga</div> - <div class="i0">Cetewayo looking backward,</div> - <div class="i0">Placed his thumb upon his nostril,</div> - <div class="i0">Made the sign, the Snookey-Wookey,</div> - <div class="i0">Made the gesture of derision,</div> - <div class="i0">Pulling bacon, piggey-whiggey,</div> - <div class="i0">Hurling at them his defiance.</div> - <div class="i1">Then cried Giffey-Wiffey loudly,</div> - <div class="i0">"When I catch you, you black rascal,</div> - <div class="i0">Cat-o'-nine tails, pussey-wussey,</div> - <div class="i0">You and she shall be acquainted,"</div> - <div class="i0">Mockingly came back the answer:</div> - <div class="i0">"When you catchee, when you catchee!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">UNTING OF</span> C<span class="smcapa">ETEWAYO</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Full of anger was Sir Garnet</div> - <div class="i0">When he came among the Zulus,</div> - <div class="i0">And found them in a precious muddle,</div> - <div class="i0">Heard of all the wicked doings,</div> - <div class="i0">All the luckless Zulus slaughter'd</div> - <div class="i0">By the savage Cetewayo.</div> - <div class="i0">Fuming in alarming fashion,</div> - <div class="i0">Through his thick moustache he mutter'd</div> - <div class="i0">Dire words of blood and thunder,</div> - <div class="i0">Raging like an angry tiger—</div> - <div class="i0">"I will nobble Cetewayo,</div> - <div class="i0">Bag this horrid rascal," said he;</div> - <div class="i0">"Not so wide the realm of Zulus,</div> - <div class="i0">Not so terrible the bye-ways,</div> - <div class="i0">That my anger shall not nail him,</div> - <div class="i0">That my vengeance shall not spot him!"</div> - <div class="i0">Then in hot pursuit departed</div> - <div class="i0">Marter and the mighty hunters</div> - <div class="i0">On the trail of Cetewayo.</div> - <div class="i0">Through the bush where he had hidden,</div> - <div class="i0">To the hut where he had rested—</div> - <div class="i0">But they found not Cetewayo;</div> - <div class="i0">Only in the charcoal embers</div> - <div class="i0">And the smell of bad tobacco,</div> - <div class="i0">Found the spot where he had halted;</div> - <div class="i0">Found the tokens of his presence.</div> - <div class="i0">Through the bush and brake and forest</div> - <div class="i0">Ran the cunning Cetewayo,</div> - <div class="i0">Till a lonely kraal he entered</div> - <div class="i0">In the middle of the forest!</div> - <div class="i0">Then the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'corpuleut'">corpulent</ins> old sinner</div> - <div class="i0">Heard the tramp of many footsteps,</div> - <div class="i0">Heard the sound of many voices,</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, "He, the white man's coming!"</div> - <div class="i0">Got into a funk and shivered.</div> - <div class="i0">Then came Marter, mighty Major,</div> - <div class="i0">He, of all Dragoons the boldest,</div> - <div class="i0">To the hut door riding straightway,</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, "Where is Cetewayo,</div> - <div class="i0">For his Majesty is wanted?"</div> - <div class="i0">Then came forth the noble savage,</div> - <div class="i0">On his breast a scarlet blanket,</div> - <div class="i0">Proudly wearing à la toga,</div> - <div class="i0">Gave himself to mighty Marter;</div> - <div class="i0">Pass'd a captive 'twixt the soldiers!</div> - <div class="i0">Ended now his strange adventures,</div> - <div class="i0">Ended all his wily dodges,</div> - <div class="i0">All his plottings and his schemings,</div> - <div class="i0">And his hecatombs of Zulus!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From <em>Snatches of Song</em>, by F. B. Doveton, 1880.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>H<span class="smcapa">IAWATHA'S</span> P<span class="smcapa">HOTOGRAPHING</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Author's Preface.</em></p> - -<p>("In an age of imitation, I can claim no special merit for -this slight attempt at doing what is known to be so easy. -Any fairly practised writer, with the slightest ear for rhythm, -could compose, for hours together, in the easy running metre -of 'The Song of Hiawatha.'")</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">F<span class="smcapa">ROM</span> his shoulder Hiawatha</div> - <div class="i0">Took the camera of rosewood.</div> - <div class="i0">Made of sliding, folding rosewood,</div> - <div class="i0">Neatly put it all together.</div> - <div class="i0">In its case it lay compactly,</div> - <div class="i0">Folded into nearly nothing;</div> - <div class="i0">But he opened out the hinges,</div> - <div class="i0">Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges,</div> - <div class="i0">Till it looked all squares and oblongs,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a complicated figure</div> - <div class="i0">In the Second Book of Euclid.</div> - <div class="i1">This he perched upon a tripod—</div> - <div class="i0">Crouched beneath its dusky cover—</div> - <div class="i0">Stretched his hand, enforcing silence—</div> - <div class="i0">Said, "Be motionless, I beg you!"</div> - <div class="i0">Mystic, awful was the process.</div> - <div class="i1">All the family in order,</div> - <div class="i0">Sat before him for their pictures;</div> - <div class="i0">Each, in turn, as he was taken,</div> - <div class="i0">Volunteered his own suggestions,</div> - <div class="i0">His ingenious suggestions.</div> - <div class="i1">First the Governor, the Father,</div> - <div class="i0">He suggested velvet curtains</div> - <div class="i0">Looped about a massy pillar;</div> - <div class="i0">And a corner of a table,</div> - <div class="i0">Of a rosewood dining-table.</div> - <div class="i0">He would hold a scroll of something,</div> - <div class="i0">Hold it firmly in his left hand;</div> - <div class="i0">He would keep his right hand buried</div> - <div class="i0">(Like Napoleon) in his waistcoat;</div> - <div class="i0">He would contemplate the distance</div> - <div class="i0">With a look of pensive meaning,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> - <div class="i0">As of ducks that die in tempests.</div> - <div class="i1">Grand, heroic was the notion:</div> - <div class="i0">Yet the picture failed entirely—</div> - <div class="i0">Failed because he moved a little,</div> - <div class="i0">Moved, because he couldn't help it."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Next to him the eldest daughter:</div> - <div class="i0">She suggested very little,</div> - <div class="i0">Only asked if he would take her</div> - <div class="i0">With her look of 'passive beauty.'</div> - <div class="i1">Her idea of passive beauty</div> - <div class="i0">Was a squinting of the left eye,</div> - <div class="i0">Was a drooping of the right eye,</div> - <div class="i0">Was a smile that went up sideways</div> - <div class="i0">To the corner of the nostrils."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>After having taken each member of the family -in succession, with the most dismal results:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Finally my Hiawatha</div> - <div class="i0">Tumbled all the tribe together,</div> - <div class="i0">('Grouped' is not the right expression),</div> - <div class="i0">And, as happy chance would have it,</div> - <div class="i0">Did at last obtain a picture</div> - <div class="i0">Where the faces all succeeded:</div> - <div class="i0">Each came out a perfect likeness.</div> - <div class="i1">Then they joined, and all abused it,</div> - <div class="i0">Unrestrainedly abused it,</div> - <div class="i0">As 'the worst and ugliest picture</div> - <div class="i0">They could possibly have dreamed of.'</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span> <span class="mleft3">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But my Hiawatha's patience,</div> - <div class="i0">His politeness and his patience,</div> - <div class="i0">Unaccountably had vanished,</div> - <div class="i0">And he left that happy party.</div> - <div class="i0">Left them in a mighty hurry,</div> - <div class="i0">Stating that he would not stand it,</div> - <div class="i0">Stating in emphatic language</div> - <div class="i0">What he'd be before he'd stand it.</div> - <div class="i1">Thus departed Hiawatha.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From <em>Rhyme? and Reason?</em> by Lewis Carroll, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>These disjointed extracts give but a poor idea -of this most amusing poem, the comical effects -of which are much heightened by Mr. A. B. -Frost's humorous illustrations.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AWN</span>-T<span class="smcapa">ENNIS</span> P<span class="smcapa">ARTY AT</span> P<span class="smcapa">EPPERHANGER</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A fragment in the metre of Longfellow's "Hiawatha."</em>)</p> - - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I was sitting in my wigwam,</div> - <div class="i0">Looking from my lofty wigwam,</div> - <div class="i0">On the fir-clad hill of Dryburgh,</div> - <div class="i0">O'er the vale of Pepperhanger.</div> - <div class="i0">Suddenly there came a rapping,</div> -<span class="sidenotea">The Postman's -knock.</span> - <div class="i0">Double rapping, double tapping,</div> - <div class="i0">Sounding through the little wigwam,</div> - <div class="i0">Startling quiet Pepperhanger.</div> - <div class="i0">Thus the Government Messénjah,</div> -<span class="sidenotea">Heathen -Mythology.</span> - <div class="i0">Mercury of brazen buttons,</div> - <div class="i0">Crimson-collared, azure-coated,</div> - <div class="i0">Blue as when some ancient Briton,</div> - <div class="i0">As enlightenment came o'er him,</div> - <div class="i0">Thinking skin was rather shabby,</div> -<span class="sidenotea">History of -England.</span> - <div class="i0">Went and put a coat of Woad on.</div> - <div class="i0">He, the carrier of all letters,</div> - <div class="i0">He the bearer of all tidings</div> - <div class="i0">To the lofty hill of Dryburgh,</div> - <div class="i0">To the vale of Pepperhanger.</div> - <div class="i0">Swiftly then I took the letter;</div> - <div class="i0">Eagerly I read the message</div> - <div class="i0">From a hospitable lady</div> - <div class="i0">Of the vale of Pepperhanger,</div> - <div class="i0">"Come at four o'clock to tiffin,</div> - <div class="i0">If no better action urges;</div> - <div class="i0">In the cool of Tuesday evening,</div> - <div class="i0">Come and play a game of Tennis</div> - <div class="i0">On my lawns at Pepperhanger."</div> - <div class="i0">Thus her letter: then I sallied</div> - <div class="i0">To her almost hidden wigwam.</div> - <div class="i0">Which from East and rude Sou'-wester</div> - <div class="i0">Evergreen the pine-tree shelters;</div> - <div class="i0">Took my Tennis shoes of rubber,</div> - <div class="i0">Mocassins of Indian rubber,</div> - <div class="i0">Racket, too, of Horace Bayley,</div> - <div class="i0">To the tournament of Tennis</div> - <div class="i0">On the lawns of Pepperhanger.</div> -<span class="sidenotea">Lodge's -Peerage.</span> - <div class="i0">Came the lordly Tennyslornah.</div> - <div class="i0">Came the Reverend B. A. Kander,</div> -<span class="sidenotea">Clergy -List.</span> - <div class="i0">Came the cute 'un, Charley Pleycynge,</div> - <div class="i0">Came the smasher, young de Vorley,</div> - <div class="i0">Came the great Sir V. O. Verandah,</div> - <div class="i0">Came the warrior, Foragh Biscoe,</div> -<span class="sidenotea">Sludgeborough-in-the-Marsh.</span> - <div class="i0">Strangers from a distant countrie,</div> - <div class="i0">To the tournament of Tennis</div> - <div class="i0">In the vale of Pepperhanger.</div> - <div class="i0">There we had a game at Tennis,</div> - <div class="i0">Outdoor Tennis let us call it,</div> - <div class="i0">Lest the lords of real Tennis</div> - <div class="i0">Should invoke a curse upon us;</div> - <div class="i0">Hotly smote the fierce back-hander,</div> - <div class="i0">Volleyed toward, also froward,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the speeding ball appeared as</div> - <div class="i0">One continuous flash of lightning:</div> - <div class="i0">Shouted loudly cries of Tennis,</div> - <div class="i0">"Forty-thirty" and "advantage,"</div> - <div class="i0">Giving fifteen, owing thirty</div> - <div class="i0">For a bisque, anon half-thirty</div> - <div class="i0">Owing, giving, taking, wanting,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the brain was almost reeling,</div> -<span class="sidenotea">Colenso's -Arithmetic.</span> - <div class="i0">Handicapping calculations</div> - <div class="i0">All too hard for Pepperhanger!</div> - <div class="i0">Presently the tea-bell sounded</div> - <div class="i0">Through the pine-tree-shelter'd gardens</div> - <div class="i0">To the ne'er inebriating</div> - <div class="i0">Ever cheering goblet summons.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">From <em>Pastime</em>, August 24, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The late Mr. Shirley Brooks composed a -number of clever parodies, many of which were -contributed to <em>Punch</em> during his Editorship of -that journal. Three of the longest and most -amusing of these were <em>The Very Last Idyll</em>, after -Tennyson; <em>The Rime of the Ancient Mariner</em>, -after Coleridge; and The <em>Song of Hiawatha</em>, after -Longfellow. A quotation from The <em>Very Last -Idyll</em> was given on page 44; and the parody on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -Coleridge will be quoted when that author is -reached; the parody of Longfellow, which appeared -in <em>Punch</em> as far back as 1856, commenced -thus:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> H<span class="smcapa">IAWATHA</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Author's Protective Edition.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span>, who hold in grace and honour,</div> - <div class="i0">Hold as one who did you kindness</div> - <div class="i0">When he published former poems,</div> - <div class="i0">Sang Evangeline the noble,</div> - <div class="i0">Sang the golden Golden Legend,</div> - <div class="i0">Sang the songs the Voices utter,</div> - <div class="i0">Crying in the night and darkness,</div> - <div class="i0">Sang how unto the Red Planet</div> - <div class="i0">Mars he gave the Night's First Watches,</div> - <div class="i0">Henry Wadsworth, whose adnomen</div> - <div class="i0">(Coming awkward for the accents</div> - <div class="i0">Into this his latest rhythm)</div> - <div class="i0">Write we as Protracted Fellow,</div> - <div class="i0">Or in Latin, Longus Comes—</div> - <div class="i0">Buy the Song of Hiawatha.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Should you ask me, Is the poem</div> - <div class="i0">Worthy of its predecessors,</div> - <div class="i0">Worthy of the sweet conceptions</div> - <div class="i0">Of the manly, nervous diction</div> - <div class="i0">Of the phrase, concise or pliant,</div> - <div class="i0">Of the songs that sped the pulses,</div> - <div class="i0">Of the songs that gemmed the eyelash,</div> - <div class="i0">Of the other works of Henry?</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you,</div> - <div class="i0">You may wish that you may get it—</div> - <div class="i0">Don't you wish that you may get it?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Should you ask me, What's its nature?</div> - <div class="i0">Ask me, What's the kind of poem?</div> - <div class="i0">Ask me in respectful language,</div> - <div class="i0">Touching your respectful beaver,</div> - <div class="i0">Kicking back your manly hind-leg,</div> - <div class="i0">Like to one who sees his betters;</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis a poem in this metre,</div> - <div class="i0">And embalming the traditions,</div> - <div class="i0">Tables, rites, and superstitions</div> - <div class="i0">Of the various tribes of Indians.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you</div> - <div class="i0">Shut your mouth and go to David,</div> - <div class="i0">David, Mr. Punch's neighbour,</div> - <div class="i0">Buy the Song of Hiawatha.</div> - <div class="i0">Read and learn, and then be thankful</div> - <div class="i0">Unto Punch and Henry Wadsworth,</div> - <div class="i0">Punch and noble Henry Wadsworth.</div> - <div class="i0">Truer poet, better fellow,</div> - <div class="i0">Than to be annoyed at jesting</div> - <div class="i0">From his friend, great Punch, who loves him.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following is a list of the names of some -famous advertisers of thirty years ago, taken -from <em>Hiawater</em>, a parody contained in "The -Shilling Book of Beauty," by Cuthbert Bede -(J. Blackwood, 1853):—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Howlawaya, the quack doctor;</div> - <div class="i0">Mosieson, the cheap slop seller;</div> - <div class="i0">Mechisteel and Warrenblacking;</div> - <div class="i0">Camomile, the Pillofnorton;</div> - <div class="i0">Marywedlake, oaten bruiser;</div> - <div class="i0">Doctorjong, the great cod liver;</div> - <div class="i0">Revalenta, the Dubarrie,</div> - <div class="i0">Rowlandskalidore, and Trotman's</div> - <div class="i0">Doubledupperambulator."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another scarce parody on the same original -was entitled <em>Milk-and-Watha</em>, and an amusing -skit was also contained in Gilbert's libretto to -<em>Princess Toto</em>.</p> - -<p>There is also a parody in Edmund Yates's -<em>Our Miscellany</em> (G. Routledge and Co., 1857), -and "Revenge, a Rhythmic Recollection," appeared -in <em>Tom Hood's Comic Annual</em>, 1877.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">HORTFELLOW SUMS UP</span> L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">M<span class="smcapa">ILES</span> S<span class="smcapa">TANDISH</span>, old Puritan soldier, courts gal Priscilla by proxy;</div> - <div class="i0">Gal likes the proxy the best, so Miles, in a rage, takes and hooks it.</div> - <div class="i0">Folks think he's killed, but he ain't, and comes back, as a friend, to the wedding,</div> - <div class="i0">If you call this ink-Standish stuff poetry, <em>Punch</em> will soon reel you off Miles.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4"><em>Shirley Brooks</em> on "The Courtship of Miles Standish."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">AGNER</span> F<span class="smcapa">ESTIVAL.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>By an admirer of Longfellow's "Evangeline," who sorrowfully -sat through the six concerts.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">This is the music primeval. The festival singers from Bayreuth,</div> - <div class="i0">Solemn and stern, with their shirt fronts studded, and swallow-tailed garments,</div> - <div class="i0">Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic,</div> - <div class="i0">Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms,</div> - <div class="i0">Loud from its ligneous caverns, the deep-voiced neighbouring organ</div> - <div class="i0">Moans, and in accents disconsolate answers the orchestra wailing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">This is the music primeval, and when it is ended, Herr Wagner</div> - <div class="i0">Is called to the front, and is crowned with a wreath by the Madame Materna;</div> - <div class="i0">Then there is hugging and kissing and weeping with Wagner Wilhelmj,</div> - <div class="i0">And Richter, to whom is presented a bâton—brand new, silver-mounted;</div> - <div class="i0">But where are the beautiful maidens who solemnly sat in the boxes?</div> - <div class="i0">Where are the men—tawny swells—who talked of clubs, races, or billiards,</div> - <div class="i0">Silenced from time unto time by thunders and earthquakes orchestral?</div> - <div class="i0">Empty are boxes and stalls, the occupants all have departed,</div> - <div class="i0">And the critic goes—glad to survive the music primeval of Wagner.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Funny Folks.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another parody of Evangeline, entitled <em>Picnicaline</em> -occurs in "Mirth and Metre," 1855.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>E<span class="smcapa">XCELSIOR.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through an Alpine village passed,</div> - <div class="i0">A youth, who bore 'mid snow and ice,</div> - <div class="i0">A banner with this strange device,</div> - <div class="i3">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His brow was sad; his eye beneath</div> - <div class="i0">Flashed like a faulchion from its sheath,</div> - <div class="i0">And like a silver clarion rung,</div> - <div class="i0">The accents of that unknown tongue.</div> - <div class="i3">Excelsior!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is possible that Longfellow had the motto -of New York, "<em>Excelsior</em>," in his mind when he -composed this hackneyed poem, which has -served as the model for hundreds of parodies, -and particularly for advertising purposes. A -few of the more amusing only can be inserted.</p> - - -<h3>E<span class="smcapa">XCELSIOR IN</span> "P<span class="smcapa">IDGIN</span> E<span class="smcapa">NGLISH</span>."</h3> - -<p>The following article is from <em>Pro and Con</em>, -December 14, 1872.</p> - -<p>"Pidgin English is the name given to an -absurd <em>patois</em> which is used in conversation -between the Chinese celestials, and the outer -barbarians. It appears to be a physical impossibility -for a Chinaman to pronounce the letter -<em>r</em> as in rough, cry, or curry, which he turns into -lough, cly, and cully, as young English children -often do. V, he turns into W, th into f, and to -most words ending with a consonant, he adds a -final syllable, as in <em>find findie</em>, <em>catch catchee</em>, &c. -I, me, my, and mine, are all expressed by one -word, <em>my</em>. The vocabulary consists of a few -words of French origin, such as savey, one or -two from the Portuguese, many common -Chinese expressions, such as <em>chop-chop</em> for quick; -<em>man-man</em>, which means stop; <em>maskee</em>, never mind, -or do not mind; <em>chin-chin</em>, good-bye; <em>welly culio</em>, -or <em>muchee culio</em>, very curious; <em>Foss-pidgin-man</em>, a -priest; and <em>Topside Galah</em>, hurrah for the top, or -Excelsior. There is also a plentiful use of the word -<em>pidgin</em>, which is simply a corruption of our word -<em>business</em>, but it appears to be applied with the -utmost impartiality, to a variety of most incongruous -phrases. As an example of every day -talk, a lady telling her nurse to bring down her -little girl and boy to see a visitor would say,—'Aymah, -suppose you go topside catchee two -piecee chiloe, bull chiloe, cow chiloe, chop chop.' -From a gentleman well acquainted with China -and the Chinese, we have received the following -clever imitation of Excelsior, which is pronounced -a very fair specimen of Pidgin English":—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">OPSIDE</span> G<span class="smcapa">ALAH</span>!</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"That nightee tim begin chop-chop,</div> - <div class="i0">One young man walkee, no can stop,</div> - <div class="i0">Maskee colo! maskee icee!</div> - <div class="i0">He cally that flag wid chop so nicee</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"He too muchee solly, one piecee eye</div> - <div class="i0">Look see sharp—so fashion—allo same my,</div> - <div class="i0">He talkee largee, talkee stlong,</div> - <div class="i0">Too muchee culio-allo same gong—</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Inside that housee he can see light,</div> - <div class="i0">And evely loom got fire all light.</div> - <div class="i0">Outside, that icee largee high,</div> - <div class="i0">Inside he mouf, he plenty cly,</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Olo man talkee, 'No can walkee!'</div> - <div class="i0">Bimeby lain come-welly darkee,</div> - <div class="i0">Hab got water, too muchee wide!</div> - <div class="i0">Maskee! my wantchee go topside—</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"'Man-man,' one galo talkee he,</div> - <div class="i0">What for you go topside look see?'</div> - <div class="i0">And one tim more he plenty cly,</div> - <div class="i0">But allo tim walkee plenty high,</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"'Take care that spilem-tlee young man!</div> - <div class="i0">Take care that icee!'" He no man-man;</div> - <div class="i0">That coolie chin-chin he 'Good night,'</div> - <div class="i0">He talkee, 'My can go all lite!'</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Joss Pidgin man chop-chop begin</div> - <div class="i0">That morning tim that joss chin-chin,</div> - <div class="i0">He no man see, he plenty fear,</div> - <div class="i0">Cause some man speakee, he can hear</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"That young man die—one largee dog see,</div> - <div class="i0">Too muchee bobbely, findee he;</div> - <div class="i0">Hand muchee colo, allo same icee,</div> - <div class="i0">Have piecee flag wid chop so nicee,</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i7">M<span class="smcapa">OLAL</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"You too much laughee! what for sing?</div> - <div class="i0">I tink you no savey what ting!</div> - <div class="i0">Supposee you no b'long cleber inside,</div> - <div class="i0">More better you go walkee topside,</div> - <div class="i5"><em>Topside Galah!</em>"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another, but, on the whole, inferior version of -the above parody appeared in Harper's Magazine, -and is quoted at page 122 of <em>Poetical Ingenuities -and Eccentricities</em>, by W. T. Dobson (Chatto and -Windus, 1882.)</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">When through the spacious High there passed</div> - <div class="i0">A form in gown of strange device,</div> - <div class="i0">Who uttered in a tone of ice,</div> - <div class="i6">"Your name and college!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> - <div class="i0">His brow was black, his eye beneath</div> - <div class="i0">Shone like a wrathful bull-dog's teeth;</div> - <div class="i0">And still amid the darkness rung</div> - <div class="i0">The accents of his well-known tongue;</div> - <div class="i6">"Your name and college!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Try not the High," the porter said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Dark lowers the proctor, bull-dog led."</div> - <div class="i0">But forth in "loud" illegal dress</div> - <div class="i0">The youth went, crying "Let him guess</div> - <div class="i6">My name and college!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">(<em>Half-an-hour elapses.</em>)</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O stay," his comrade said, "and rest</div> - <div class="i0">Thy wearied limbs and panting chest!"</div> - <div class="i0">To gain their wind the fliers try,</div> - <div class="i0">When lo! a figure gliding nigh,</div> - <div class="i6">Cries, "Name and college!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware the proctor's sacred paunch,</div> - <div class="i0">Beware the rushing bull-dog's launch!"</div> - <div class="i0">This was the porter's last good-night;</div> - <div class="i0">A voice replied, "It serves me right</div> - <div class="i6">For cutting college!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Next morn, as tolled the stroke of nine,</div> - <div class="i0">Two youths, in dread of penal fine,</div> - <div class="i0">Slunk silent through the awful gate,</div> - <div class="i0">And "hoped they were not much too late,</div> - <div class="i6">They'd run from college!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There, like a mouse awaiting cat,</div> - <div class="i0">Awful and calm the proctor sat;</div> - <div class="i0">And, like a death-knell booming far,</div> - <div class="i0">A voice fell stern: "This week you are</div> - <div class="i6">Confined to college!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1863.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>E<span class="smcapa">XEXOLOR.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night had fallen (<em>at last!</em>)</div> - <div class="i0">When from the Eagle Tavern pass'd</div> - <div class="i0">A youth, who bore, in manual vice,</div> - <div class="i0">A pot of something monstrous nice—</div> - <div class="i7">XX—oh lor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His brow was bad—his young eye scann'd</div> - <div class="i0">The frothing flagon in his hand,</div> - <div class="i0">And like a gurgling streamlet sprung</div> - <div class="i0">The accents to that thirsty tongue,</div> - <div class="i7">XX—oh lor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In happy homes he saw them grub</div> - <div class="i0">On stout, and oysters from a tub,—</div> - <div class="i0">The dismal gas-light gleamed without,</div> - <div class="i0">And from his lips escaped a shout,</div> - <div class="i7">"XX—oh lor!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Young man," the Sage observ'd, "just stay,</div> - <div class="i0">And let me dip my beak, I say,</div> - <div class="i0">The pewter is deep, and I am dry!"</div> - <div class="i0">"Perceiv'st thou verdure in my eye?</div> - <div class="i7">XX—oh lor!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh stop," the maiden cried, "and lend</div> - <div class="i0">Thy beery burden here, my friend—"</div> - <div class="i0">Th' unbidden tear regretful rose,</div> - <div class="i0">But still his thumb-tip sought his nose;</div> - <div class="i7">XX—oh lor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware the gutter at thy feet!</div> - <div class="i0">Beware the Dragons of the street!</div> - <div class="i0">Beware lest thirsty Bob you meet!"</div> - <div class="i0">This was the ultimate remark;</div> - <div class="i0">A voice replied far thro' the dark,</div> - <div class="i7">"XX—oh lor!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">That night, by watchmen on their round,</div> - <div class="i0">The person in a ditch was found;</div> - <div class="i0">Still grasping in his manual vice,</div> - <div class="i0">That pot—once fill'd with something nice—</div> - <div class="i7">XX—oh lor!!!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From Mr. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell's <em>Puck on Pegasus</em> -(Chatto and Windus.)</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> T<span class="smcapa">HEATRE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">"<em>Nam quae pervincere voces Evaluere sonum referunt quem -nostra Theatra?</em>"</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The theatre was filling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through the open door there passed</div> - <div class="i0">A stranger with a scarlet tie,</div> - <div class="i0">That instantly provoked the cry</div> - <div class="i4">Of "Turn him out!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His nose was red, his lips beneath,</div> - <div class="i0">In frequent smiles disclosed his teeth,</div> - <div class="i0">And upward when he turned his eye,</div> - <div class="i0">In ceaseless hubbub came the cry,</div> - <div class="i4">"Ugh! Turn him out!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">III.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Stay, stay," a master said, "and rest,</div> - <div class="i0">The 'Vice' cares little how you're dressed,"</div> - <div class="i0">But loud from undergraduate lung</div> - <div class="i0">The cry continually rung,</div> - <div class="i4">"Ugh! Turn him out!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The public orator began</div> - <div class="i0">To spout his Latin like a man;</div> - <div class="i0">His lips moved fast, but not a word</div> - <div class="i0">Was audible; we only heard,</div> - <div class="i4">"Ugh! Turn him out!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">V.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Gaisford and the Newdigate</div> - <div class="i0">And Stanhope shared no better fate;</div> - <div class="i0">No single voice could drown the cry</div> - <div class="i0">That roared out from the gallery,</div> - <div class="i4">"Ugh! Turn him out!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The 'Vice' rose up from off his chair,</div> - <div class="i0">And raised his finger in the air,</div> - <div class="i0">And gently strove the noise to quell,</div> - <div class="i0">But louder came the ceaseless yell,</div> - <div class="i4">"Ugh! Turn him out."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I left the place with aching brain,</div> - <div class="i0">And deafened ear that throbbed again,</div> - <div class="i0">And as I sauntered down the High,</div> - <div class="i0">Upon the breeze I heard the cry,</div> - <div class="i4">"Ugh! Turn him out!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Lays of Modern Oxford</em> (Chapman and Hall, 1874.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>E<span class="smcapa">XCELSIOR.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The price of meat was rising fast,</div> - <div class="i1">As to his daily duty passed</div> - <div class="i0">A toiler who, with bitter laugh,</div> - <div class="i1">Had read upon his <em>Telegraph</em>,</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His brow was sad; because it bore</div> - <div class="i1">A costlier hat than e'er before:</div> - <div class="i0">His feet were sadder; he'd to pay</div> - <div class="i1">For boots that quickly wore away,</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In oyster shops he saw the shells</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein the luscious bivalve dwells,</div> - <div class="i0">But had no chance of shelling out,</div> - <div class="i1">And murmured, as he dreamt of stout,</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Try this rump-steak!" the butcher said;</div> - <div class="i1">"At Tillyfour the ox was bred;</div> - <div class="i0">Juicy it is, M'Combie's pride,</div> - <div class="i1">And only one-and-six." He sighed—</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Stay!" cried a maiden of the bar,</div> - <div class="i1">"A shilling buys a good cigar—</div> - <div class="i0">Ten more some icy dry champagne."</div> - <div class="i1">He shook his head and cried again,</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Take comfort," said a Hebrew mild;</div> - <div class="i1">"I love to help a Christian child.</div> - <div class="i0">My moderate terms are cent. per cent.</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas sixty once," he thought, and went—</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At dead of night that wayward youth,</div> - <div class="i1">So saddened by the eternal truth,</div> - <div class="i0">Was by a pious peeler found,</div> - <div class="i1">Who kindly raised him from the ground,</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He uttered words that can't be told,</div> - <div class="i1">Said eating game was eating gold,</div> - <div class="i0">Showered maledictions on the souls</div> - <div class="i1">Of those who raise the price of coals—</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When morning shone upon the town,</div> - <div class="i1">He had to pay five shillings down,</div> - <div class="i0">And blessed the rulers of the skies</div> - <div class="i1">The price of Justice does not rise,</div> - <div class="i6">Excelsior!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">M<span class="smcapa">ORTIMER</span> C<span class="smcapa">OLLINS</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>The London Magazine</em>, February, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>"C<span class="smcapa">LEAN</span> Y<span class="smcapa">OUR</span> D<span class="smcapa">OOR-STEP</span>, M<span class="smcapa">ARM</span>?"</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were some time past,</div> - <div class="i0">And snow had fallen thick and fast;</div> - <div class="i0">A youth, who broom and shovel bore,</div> - <div class="i0">Was heard to call outside the door,</div> - <div class="i5">"Clean your doorstep, Marm?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In happy homes he saw the light</div> - <div class="i0">Of household fires gleam warm and bright,</div> - <div class="i0">The singing kettle brightly shone—</div> - <div class="i0">Again, again, his well-known tone—</div> - <div class="i5">"Clean your doorstep, Marm?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His brow was sad—his chilly nose,</div> - <div class="i0">Like fiery coals, glow'd in the snows,</div> - <div class="i0">And, as the kitchen bell he rang,</div> - <div class="i0">In accents clear he loudly sang,</div> - <div class="i5">"Clean your doorstep, Marm?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh, stay," the girl said, "while I see,</div> - <div class="i0">As I takes up the toast and tea;</div> - <div class="i0">And if your charge is not too high"—</div> - <div class="i0">"A tanner's all," the poor boy's cry,</div> - <div class="i5">"To clean your doorstep, Marm?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He set to work with all his might,</div> - <div class="i0">But suddenly went out of sight;—</div> - <div class="i0">Half-buried in the coals was found</div> - <div class="i0">The youth who sang that piteous sound,</div> - <div class="i5">"Clean your doorstep, Marm?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Some rascal in the night had twigged,</div> - <div class="i0">The coal-iron loose, which he had prigged,</div> - <div class="i0">"If I'd a know'd a hole was there,</div> - <div class="i0">I would o' coorse ha' took more care</div> - <div class="i5">Cleaning your doorstep, Marm?"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>Y<span class="smcapa">E</span> M<span class="smcapa">AYDEN AND</span> Y<span class="smcapa">E</span> E<span class="smcapa">GGE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">The shades of night were gone—at last,</div> - <div class="i1">As, all agog to break her fast,</div> - <div class="i1">A maiden sat, 'mid kith and kin,</div> - <div class="i1">While bent, impatient to begin,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Egg-shell she o'er</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Ye Paterfamilias.</em></div> - <div class="i1">His brow was staid; his eyes beneath</div> - <div class="i1">Were closed. Not so his lips and teeth,</div> - <div class="i1">Whence, like a copper clarion rung</div> - <div class="i1">"Grace before meat." Still, listening, hung</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Egg-shell she o'er</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Hys remonstrance.</em></div> - <div class="i1">"Try not the egg!" the "old man" cried,</div> - <div class="i1">"Dark lowers some prodigy inside!</div> - <div class="i1">What if fowl play?"—no more he said,</div> - <div class="i1">For her protecting fingers spread</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Egg-shell she o'er</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Ye Mayden</em>—<em>her Prayer.</em></div> - <div class="i1">"Stay, Pa!" the maiden said, "let's test</div> - <div class="i1">Your query, ere upon this breast</div> - <div class="i1">You anguish pile." Her moistening eye</div> - <div class="i1">Here drooped, and struggled with a sigh,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Egg-shell she o'er</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Ye Fynde.</em></div> - <div class="i1">At break of shell, as chickenward</div> - <div class="i1">(For aught she knew) her spoon she stirred,</div> - <div class="i1">A something stubborn claimed a stare.</div> - <div class="i1">"My brooch!" cried with a startled air,</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Egg-shell she o'er</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Ye Ende.</em></div> - <div class="i1">There in the middle—so they say—</div> - <div class="i1">Hard, but albuminous it lay.</div> - <div class="i1">And, when she grew serener, far,</div> - <div class="i1">Fished the thing up, with "dear old star!"</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Egg-shell she o'er</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This ingenious but rather mad parody appeared -in <em>The Figaro</em> of May 6, 1876.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HOSE</span> H<span class="smcapa">ORRID</span> S<span class="smcapa">CHOOLS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through the quad a gownsman passed,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose seedy look and sunken cheek</div> - <div class="i0">Bespoke as plain as words could speak,</div> - <div class="i7">"Those horrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His coat was worn; his bags beneath</div> - <div class="i0">Were quite too short his legs to sheath,</div> - <div class="i0">While like a penny trumpet rung</div> - <div class="i0">The treble of that mournful tongue,</div> - <div class="i7">"Those horrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">III.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In happy homes he left the light</div> - <div class="i0">Of household fires both warm and bright;</div> - <div class="i0">Before the spectral "Great Go" shone,</div> - <div class="i0">And from his lips escaped a groan,</div> - <div class="i7">"Those horrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Try but to pass," his tutor said,</div> - <div class="i0">"A class is not within your head.</div> - <div class="i0">The yawning gulf is deep and wide!"</div> - <div class="i0">But still that treble voice replied,</div> - <div class="i7">"Those horrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">V.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh stay!" the maiden said, "and rest</div> - <div class="i0">Thy learned head upon my breast!"</div> - <div class="i0">A tear stood in his sunken eye,</div> - <div class="i0">He blushed, and answered, looking shy,</div> - <div class="i7">"Those horrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware tobacco's withered plant!</div> - <div class="i0">Beware of vinous stimulant!"</div> - <div class="i0">This was the gov'nor's last good-bye,</div> - <div class="i0">A voice replied, from out the fly,</div> - <div class="i7">"Those horrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At break of day, as through the gloom</div> - <div class="i0">The scout when going from room to room,</div> - <div class="i0">Uttered the oft repeated call,</div> - <div class="i0">A voice came from the bedroom small,</div> - <div class="i7">"Those horrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The poor young sap asleep quite sound,</div> - <div class="i0">Half buried in the sheets was found,</div> - <div class="i0">Still grasping, nibbled by the mice,</div> - <div class="i0">An Ethics with the strange device,</div> - <div class="i7">"Those horrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">IX.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There in the twilight, cold and grey,</div> - <div class="i0">Dirty, unwashen, there he lay,</div> - <div class="i0">While from his scout the sentence flowed,</div> - <div class="i0">"Oh drat those books—them schools be blowed,</div> - <div class="i7">"Them 'orrid schools!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1861</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HAT</span> T<span class="smcapa">HIRTY-FOUR</span>.</h3> - -<p>(The following parody was selected for a prize -in a competition, by the editor of <em>Truth</em>, and -appeared in that paper on November 25th, 1880. -It refers to the American puzzle, called "Thirty-four," -which was then very popular).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Chill August's storms were piping loud,</div> - <div class="i0">When through a gaping London crowd,</div> - <div class="i0">There passed a youth, who still was heard</div> - <div class="i0">To mutter the perplexing word,</div> - <div class="i6">"That Thirty-four!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His eyes were wild; his brow above</div> - <div class="i0">Was crumpled like an old kid glove;</div> - <div class="i0">And like some hoarse crow's grating note</div> - <div class="i0">That word still quivered in his throat,</div> - <div class="i6">"That Thirty-four!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh, give it up!" his comrades said,</div> - <div class="i0">"It only muddles your poor head;</div> - <div class="i0">It is not worth your finding out."</div> - <div class="i0">He answered with a wailing shout,</div> - <div class="i6">"That Thirty-four!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Art not content," the maiden said,</div> - <div class="i0">"To solve the 'Fifteen' one instead?"</div> - <div class="i0">He paused-his tearful eyes he dried—</div> - <div class="i0">Gulped down a sob, then sadly sighed,</div> - <div class="i6">"That Thirty-four!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At midnight, on their high resort,</div> - <div class="i0">The cats were startled at their sport,</div> - <div class="i0">To hear, beneath one roof, a tone</div> - <div class="i0">Gasp out, betwixt a snore and groan,</div> - <div class="i6">"That Thirty-four!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>TOBACCO SMOKE!</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> clouds or smoke were rising fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through a college room there passed</div> - <div class="i0">A youth who bore, 'spite sage advice,</div> - <div class="i0">A "baccy"-pouch with strange device,</div> - <div class="i9">"Tobacco smoke!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His brow was sad; his eye beneath</div> - <div class="i0">Stared on a pipe, laid in its sheath,</div> - <div class="i0">And in his ears there ever rung</div> - <div class="i0">The accents of the donor's tongue,</div> - <div class="i9">"Tobacco smoke!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Try not the shag!" the old man said,</div> - <div class="i0">It is o'er strong for thy young head,</div> - <div class="i0">Dire its effects to those untried</div> - <div class="i0">Heedless he was, and but replied,</div> - <div class="i9">"Tobacco smoke!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh, stay," the maiden said, "and test</div> - <div class="i0">Our Latakia—'tis the best!"</div> - <div class="i0">He grasped his packet of birds'-eye,</div> - <div class="i0">And only muttered with a sigh,</div> - <div class="i9">"Tobacco smoke!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware; don't set your room alight—</div> - <div class="i0">The college might object—good-night!"</div> - <div class="i0">Such were the words the scholar spoke,</div> - <div class="i0">And scarcely heard through closing oak,</div> - <div class="i9">"Tobacco smoke!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> - <div class="i0">That Freshman by his scout was found</div> - <div class="i0">Lying all prone upon the ground,</div> - <div class="i0">And still his hand grasped like a vice</div> - <div class="i0">The "baccy"-pouch with strange device,</div> - <div class="i9">"Tobacco smoke!"</div> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i12">R. C., Oxford.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1864.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>"O<span class="smcapa">BSTRUCTIONISTS.</span>"</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>By a Lover of Longfellow, after spending Twenty-six Hours -in the House of Commons.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through St. Stephen's portals passed</div> - <div class="i0">An Irish band, not over nice,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose banners bore the strange device—</div> - <div class="i9">"Obstructionists!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Each brow was sad, each eye beneath</div> - <div class="i0">Glared at Cavan, Dungarvan, Meath;</div> - <div class="i0">And soon in Erin's brogue was heard</div> - <div class="i0">Again their policy absurd—</div> - <div class="i9">"Obstructionists!"</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">"Tempt not the Commons," Northcote said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Dark lowers the tempest overhead;</div> - <div class="i0">Too long its rules have been defied;"</div> - <div class="i0">But still the Irish rowdies cried—</div> - <div class="i9">"Obstructionists!"</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i0">"Beware the Ministerial branch—</div> - <div class="i0">Beware the Tory avalanche!"</div> - <div class="i0">Was Biggar's caution, and he smiled,</div> - <div class="i0">When for a nap he left the wild</div> - <div class="i9">"Obstructionists!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At noon that day O'Donnell craved</div> - <div class="i0">A respite, but the Commons braved</div> - <div class="i0">The contest, and their only prayer</div> - <div class="i0">Was to demolish then and there—</div> - <div class="i9">"Obstructionists!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The chaplain came his usual round,</div> - <div class="i0">The Commons sitting still he found,</div> - <div class="i0">Using each possible device</div> - <div class="i0">To crush that band, not over nice—</div> - <div class="i9">"Obstructionists!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But late on that eventful day</div> - <div class="i0">The "stumbling blocks" were kicked away;</div> - <div class="i0">South Africa rejoiced afar,</div> - <div class="i0">And Biggar moaned, "It's done we are!"—</div> - <div class="i9">"Obstructionists!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Funny Folks.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>E<span class="smcapa">NDYMION.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> shades of night were falling fast</div> - <div class="i0">Round Hughenden,—for some time past</div> - <div class="i0">A Statesman, working day and night,</div> - <div class="i0">A flowery fiction did indite—</div> - <div class="i8"><em>Endymion</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His hair was dark, and you could trace</div> - <div class="i0">A soupçon of an ancient race;</div> - <div class="i0">And still, in quite his early way,</div> - <div class="i0">He wrote of Lords and Ladies gay—</div> - <div class="i8"><em>Endymion</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Tempt not the Press," Lord Rowton said.</div> - <div class="i0">"Of critics have a timely dread:</div> - <div class="i0">They skinned you when you wrote <em>Lothair</em>."</div> - <div class="i0">He answered, with his nose in air,</div> - <div class="i8">"<em>Endymion!</em>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh stay," the Tory said, "and make</div> - <div class="i0">That wicked G<span class="smcapa">LADSTONE</span> writhe and quake."</div> - <div class="i0">A twinkle flash'd from out his eye:</div> - <div class="i0">"I'll give him rope," he said, "and try</div> - <div class="i8"><em>Endymion!</em>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware the day they may begin</div> - <div class="i0">To break the Treaty of Berlin!"</div> - <div class="i0">This was the Tory's last appeal.</div> - <div class="i0">He only said, "I will reveal</div> - <div class="i8"><em>Endymion!</em>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And so, when Ireland was aflame,</div> - <div class="i0">The Eastern Question just the same,</div> - <div class="i0">Conservatives beheld with doubt</div> - <div class="i0">Their Leader bring his novel out—</div> - <div class="i8"><em>Endymion</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And all who waded through the book,</div> - <div class="i0">Met Titles, Tailor, Prince and Dook:</div> - <div class="i0">What wonder it is all the rage?</div> - <div class="i0">For epigram adorns thy page,</div> - <div class="i8"><em>Endymion!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There, in the twilight, cold and grey,</div> - <div class="i0">Serene in Curzon Street he lay.</div> - <div class="i0">"This cheque from L<span class="smcapa">ONGMANS'</span> will go far,"</div> - <div class="i0">A voice said. "Now for a cigar!"</div> - <div class="i8"><em>Endymion!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, December 4, 1880.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A "C<span class="smcapa">OMMON</span>" G<span class="smcapa">RIEVANCE</span>; <span class="smcapa">OR</span>, O<span class="smcapa">UR</span> O<span class="smcapa">PEN</span> S<span class="smcapa">PACES</span> -<span class="smcapa">AND</span> O<span class="smcapa">UR</span> Æ<span class="smcapa">DILES</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> summer day was waning fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As o'er a London heath there pass'd</div> - <div class="i0">A youth who walked with steps precise,</div> - <div class="i0">And murmured, more than once or twice,</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His eyes flashed brightly in his head,</div> - <div class="i0">Till, as the notice-boards he read,</div> - <div class="i0">His cheeks for one short moment blenched,</div> - <div class="i0">but soon he cried, with fingers clenched,</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then he recalled the large amount</div> - <div class="i0">The people'd paid that they might count</div> - <div class="i0">That Heath their own, and then again</div> - <div class="i0">He shouted out, with might and main,</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As thus he cried, a keeper came,</div> - <div class="i0">And roughly said, "Young man! Your name?</div> - <div class="i0">I'll summons you for spouting here!"</div> - <div class="i0">"Bah," cried the youth, "I have no fear—</div> - <div class="i2">The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The liveried myrmidon but jeered,</div> - <div class="i0">"Well, that's the queerest tale I've heerd;</div> - <div class="i0">This 'eath's been taken by our Board."</div> - <div class="i0">Much moved, the youth in answer roared,</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> - <div class="i0">"Rouse not his ire," an old man said;</div> - <div class="i0">"You have not, p'rhaps, the by-laws read?</div> - <div class="i0">Alas! he's might upon his side."</div> - <div class="i0">"Go to!" the eager youth replied,</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O stay!" a maiden said, "nor pass</div> - <div class="i0">In that mad way across the grass!</div> - <div class="i0">You will be fined. Oh, please don't go!"</div> - <div class="i0">"Thanks!" cried the youth, "but I must show</div> - <div class="i2">The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then, rising 'gainst crass Bumble's yoke,</div> - <div class="i0">He every stupid by-law broke,</div> - <div class="i0">And when stern keepers asked his name,</div> - <div class="i0">Still loud the self-same answer came:</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As evening fell, a tottering form,</div> - <div class="i0">All heedless of the gathering storm,</div> - <div class="i0">Defied each notice-board he passed,</div> - <div class="i0">And cried—determined to the last:</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A youth, when next the sun came round,</div> - <div class="i0">Buried in summonses was found;</div> - <div class="i0">Still gasping, as yet more were served,</div> - <div class="i0">In accents, feeble and unnerved:</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There to the Police Court brought next day,</div> - <div class="i0">He'd many pounds and costs to pay;</div> - <div class="i0">And from his lips no more was heard</div> - <div class="i0">That cry he'd learned was so absurd:</div> - <div class="i2">"The Heath is ours!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Truth</em>, August 2, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following description of an unpleasant -nocturnal adventure has been written especially -for this collection:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">One mile from town was Knightsbridge passed,</div> - <div class="i0">We found ourselves (it was not nice)</div> - <div class="i0">Tripped up by two men in a trice,</div> - <div class="i9">And felt so sore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Our brow was muddy, as beneath</div> - <div class="i0">Their pressure we could scarce draw breath,</div> - <div class="i0">Our "withers" seemed to be unwrung.</div> - <div class="i0">As we were in the gutter flung,</div> - <div class="i9">And felt so sore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We never shall forget that night</div> - <div class="i0">Rising in pitiable plight,</div> - <div class="i0">We found our jewellery gone,</div> - <div class="i0">Ourselves a sight to look upon,</div> - <div class="i9">We felt so sore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Try not to pass!" they might have said.</div> - <div class="i0">Alas! they tripped us up instead.</div> - <div class="i0">Such warning was to us denied,</div> - <div class="i0">And stretched upon the pavement wide,</div> - <div class="i9">We felt so sore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh, stay a moment, that arrest</div> - <div class="i0">May police vigilance attest,"</div> - <div class="i0">Was what we were inclined to cry,</div> - <div class="i0">But we could only heave a sigh—</div> - <div class="i9">We felt so sore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Beware a court, where the roads branch,</div> - <div class="i0">Be wary, lest an avalanche</div> - <div class="i0">Of blows should, when out late at night,</div> - <div class="i0">On your poor occiput alight,</div> - <div class="i9">We <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'fell'">felt</ins> so sore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They ran away with watch and guard,</div> - <div class="i0">And left us on the pavement hard,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst we to follow did not dare,</div> - <div class="i0">Because we had no breath to spare—</div> - <div class="i9">We felt so sore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No passers by to make a sound,</div> - <div class="i0">And not a "peeler" to be found.</div> - <div class="i0">Still gasping from their hands of <em>vice</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">Glad to escape at any price,</div> - <div class="i9">We felt so sore!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then all at once we cried "hooray!"</div> - <div class="i0">Here comes a "Bobby" on his way.</div> - <div class="i0">A <span class="smcapa">LONG FELLOW</span> we spied afar,</div> - <div class="i0">And mentally exclaimed, "Ha! ha!"</div> - <div class="i9">Excelsior.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">T. F. D<span class="smcapa">ILLON</span> C<span class="smcapa">ROKER</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>A courteous correspondent has forwarded a -little pamphlet, which was issued by Enoch -Morgan, Sons, and Co., New York, about three -years ago. It has some quaintly comical -<em>silhouette</em> illustrations, beneath each of which is -one of the following verses:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through an Eastern village passed</div> - <div class="i0">A youth who bore, through dust and heat,</div> - <div class="i0">A stencil plate, that read complete—</div> - <div class="i12">S<span class="smcapa">APOLIO</span>!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His brow was sad, but underneath,</div> - <div class="i0">White with "Odonto" shone his teeth.</div> - <div class="i0">And through them hissed the words, "Well, blow</div> - <div class="i0">Me tight if here is 'ary show!"</div> - <div class="i12">S<span class="smcapa">APOLIO</span>!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">On household fences, gleaming bright,</div> - <div class="i0">Shone "Gargling Oil," in black and white.</div> - <div class="i0">Once "Bixby's Blacking" stood alone,</div> - <div class="i0">He straight beside it clapped his own—</div> - <div class="i12">S<span class="smcapa">APOLIO</span>!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Try not my fence," the old man said,</div> - <div class="i0">"With 'Mustang Liniment' 'tis spread,</div> - <div class="i0">Another vacant spot thar ain't,"</div> - <div class="i0">He answered with a dash of paint—</div> - <div class="i12">S<span class="smcapa">APOLIO</span>!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O, stay," the maiden said, "a rest</div> - <div class="i0">Pray give us! What with 'Bixby's Best,'</div> - <div class="i0">And 'Simmons' Pills,' we're like to die."</div> - <div class="i0">He only answered, "Will you try—</div> - <div class="i12">S<span class="smcapa">APOLIO</span>?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware them Peaks! That wall so bright</div> - <div class="i0">Is but a snow bank, gleaming white,</div> - <div class="i0">Your paint won't stick!"; came the reply,</div> - <div class="i0">"I've done it! How is that for high?"</div> - <div class="i12">"S<span class="smcapa">APOLIO.</span>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> - <div class="i0">One Sabbath morn, as heavenward</div> - <div class="i0">White mountain tourists slowly spurred,</div> - <div class="i0">On ev'ry rock to their dismay,</div> - <div class="i0">They read that legend strange, alway</div> - <div class="i12">"S<span class="smcapa">APOLIO.</span>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There on the summit, old and fat,</div> - <div class="i0">Shameless, but vigorous he sat,</div> - <div class="i0">While on their luggage as they passed,</div> - <div class="i0">He checked that word, from first to last,</div> - <div class="i12">"S<span class="smcapa">APOLIO.</span>"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Advertising parodies of <em>Excelsior</em> abound. -Extracts from a few of the best are given -below:—</p> - - -<h3>13, C<span class="smcapa">ROSS</span> C<span class="smcapa">HEAPING</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through the ancient city passed,</div> - <div class="i0">A youth who scorned to pause or stop,</div> - <div class="i0">Until he reached that noted shop,</div> - <div class="i8">13, C<span class="smcapa">ROSS</span> C<span class="smcapa">HEAPING</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In happy homes he saw the light,</div> - <div class="i0">Of household fires gleam warm and bright;</div> - <div class="i0">He heeded not the cheerful coal,</div> - <div class="i0">But strode straight onward to his goal,</div> - <div class="i8">13, C<span class="smcapa">ROSS</span> C<span class="smcapa">HEAPING</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware of rain," an old man said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,"</div> - <div class="i0">The youth made quite a little speech,</div> - <div class="i0">"I fear no rain if once I reach</div> - <div class="i8">13, C<span class="smcapa">ROSS</span> C<span class="smcapa">HEAPING</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh stay," a maiden said, "and rest;</div> - <div class="i0">Put not your strength to further test,"</div> - <div class="i0">A smile lurked in his bright blue eye,</div> - <div class="i0">And merrily he made reply:</div> - <div class="i8">"13, C<span class="smcapa">ROSS</span> C<span class="smcapa">HEAPING</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Once safely there, I shall forget</div> - <div class="i0">My tired feet, and dread of wet;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst buying where I've bought before;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst choosing from that well-filled store,</div> - <div class="i8">13, C<span class="smcapa">ROSS</span> C<span class="smcapa">HEAPING</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Their B<span class="smcapa">OOTS</span> have richly earned their fame;</div> - <div class="i0">Their S<span class="smcapa">HOES</span> have gained an envied name;</div> - <div class="i0">What matters mud, however thick,</div> - <div class="i0">When once your feet are shod by D<span class="smcapa">ICK</span>,</div> - <div class="i8">13, C<span class="smcapa">ROSS</span> C<span class="smcapa">HEAPING</span>."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>P<span class="smcapa">ILOSAGINE.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">When on the word his eyes he cast—</div> - <div class="i0">That word which struck him with amaze—</div> - <div class="i0">Couched in the adverts' meant to praise.</div> - <div class="i12">P<span class="smcapa">ILOSAGINE.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sleep from his eyelids fastly fled,</div> - <div class="i0">As to himself he wondering said:</div> - <div class="i0">"If it be true that I can buy</div> - <div class="i0">What will produce a beard, I'll try</div> - <div class="i12">P<span class="smcapa">ILOSAGINE</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Tempt not the trash," in tones full rough,</div> - <div class="i0">His father urged, "Like other stuff</div> - <div class="i0">That you have oft and often tried</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis sure to prove." The youth replied,</div> - <div class="i12">"P<span class="smcapa">ILOSAGINE</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">P<span class="smcapa">ILOSAGINE</span> at once applied,</div> - <div class="i0">The wished-for three for which he sighed,</div> - <div class="i0">Imperial, beard, moustache, soon felt;</div> - <div class="i0">And thankful is he that e'er he spelt</div> - <div class="i12">P<span class="smcapa">ILOSAGINE.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The drizzling rain was falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As thro' the streets of London passed</div> - <div class="i0">A youth who bore a neat and nice</div> - <div class="i0">Umbrella with the strange device,</div> - <div class="i10">"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> I<span class="smcapa">MPERCEPTIBLE</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His step was firm, erect his form,</div> - <div class="i0">As heedless of the gathering storm</div> - <div class="i0">He homeward hied with dauntless mien</div> - <div class="i0">Beneath that elemental screen—</div> - <div class="i10">"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> I<span class="smcapa">MPERCEPTIBLE</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">III.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He saw umbrellas creased and torn,</div> - <div class="i0">By wet and angry persons borne,</div> - <div class="i0">And sorrowing o'er their wretched plight,</div> - <div class="i0">He pitied those who lacked that night</div> - <div class="i10">"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> I<span class="smcapa">MPERCEPTIBLE</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Best try a cab," an old friend said;</div> - <div class="i0">"Dark lowers the tempest overhead.</div> - <div class="i0">The rain will faster fall anon;"</div> - <div class="i0">But still that youth relied upon</div> - <div class="i10">"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> I<span class="smcapa">MPERCEPTIBLE</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">V.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O stay," a maiden said, "I'd fain</div> - <div class="i0">Ask a brief shelter from the rain."</div> - <div class="i0">The astonished youth gazed at the fair,</div> - <div class="i0">And gently answered, "You may share,</div> - <div class="i10">"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> I<span class="smcapa">MPERCEPTIBLE</span>."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>By a Long-way-after-a-Fellow-Poet.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">When through a western suburb passed</div> - <div class="i0">A man who bore upon his back</div> - <div class="i0">A placard, with this word in black—</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT.</span>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His brow was dark, his eye beneath</div> - <div class="i0">Gleamed like a lantern o'er his teeth,</div> - <div class="i0">Which gnashing ceaselessly he sung</div> - <div class="i0">That fragment of an unknown tongue—</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT.</span>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In humble homes he saw the light</div> - <div class="i0">Of candles—if anything less bright</div> - <div class="i0">Above, the glimmering gas lamps shone,</div> - <div class="i0">The contrast wrung from him a groan.</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT.</span>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Trust not the gas," the old man said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Dingy and dull the lamps o'er head—</div> - <div class="i0">The illumination is ill supplied,"</div> - <div class="i0">But loud that sandwich bearer cried,</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> - <div class="i0">"O stay," the maiden said, "or rest</div> - <div class="i0">Until your mystery is guessed!"</div> - <div class="i0">A wink obscured his cunning eye,</div> - <div class="i0">As still he mentioned in reply—</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Beware the peeler, stern and staunch,</div> - <div class="i0">With bull's-eye pendant at his haunch.</div> - <div class="i0">This was the pleasant last "Good-day,"</div> - <div class="i0">A voice replied, some streets away,</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At break of day, while reeled along,</div> - <div class="i0">Shouting their oft repeated song.</div> - <div class="i0">Some "Jolly Dogs," with blinking stare,</div> - <div class="i0">They heard a voice ring through the air,</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The speaking, tracing by the sound,</div> - <div class="i0">They, sitting on a doorstep, found</div> - <div class="i0">A man, who bore upon his back</div> - <div class="i0">A placard, with that word in black,</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There on the doorstep, cold and flat,</div> - <div class="i0">Puzzled by pondering he sat;</div> - <div class="i0">And with the hoarseness of catarrh,</div> - <div class="i0">He sighed, "I wonders what it are!"</div> - <div class="i12">"O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT</span>."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">From <em>Fun</em>, October 22, 1870.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">URFEW.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">S<span class="smcapa">OLEMNLY</span>, mournfully</div> - <div class="i1">Dealing its dole,</div> - <div class="i0">The Curfew Bell</div> - <div class="i1">Is beginning to toll.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cover the embers,</div> - <div class="i1">And put out the light,</div> - <div class="i0">Toil comes with the morning,</div> - <div class="i1">And rest with the night.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dark grow the windows,</div> - <div class="i1">And quenched is the fire,</div> - <div class="i0">Sound fades into silence,—</div> - <div class="i1">All footsteps retire.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No voice in the chambers,</div> - <div class="i1">No sound in the hall!</div> - <div class="i0">Sleep and oblivion</div> - <div class="i1">Reign over all!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">LOSE OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">EASON.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Suddenly, joyfully,</div> - <div class="i1">Leaving the Row,</div> - <div class="i0">The London Belle</div> - <div class="i1">Is beginning to go.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cover the couches</div> - <div class="i1">And shut out the light,</div> - <div class="i0">Calls cease in the morning,</div> - <div class="i1">And parties at night.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Closed are the windows,</div> - <div class="i1">And out is the fire.</div> - <div class="i0">The knockers are silent</div> - <div class="i1">All footmen retire.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No groom in the chambers,</div> - <div class="i1">No porter in hall:</div> - <div class="i0">Dust and brown holland</div> - <div class="i1">Reign over all!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The season is ended,</div> - <div class="i1">And closed like the play,</div> - <div class="i0">And the swells that adorned it</div> - <div class="i1">Vanish away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dim grow its dances,</div> - <div class="i1">Forgotten they'll be,</div> - <div class="i0">Like the ends of cigars,</div> - <div class="i1">Thrown into the sea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Squares lapse into silence,</div> - <div class="i1">The Railways are full</div> - <div class="i0">The windows are papered,</div> - <div class="i1">The West End is dull.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Fewer and fewer</div> - <div class="i1">The people to call</div> - <div class="i0">Sweeps and the charwoman,</div> - <div class="i1">Reign over all.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> E<span class="smcapa">ND</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">Tuesday, September 7, 1880.</p> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Vague Reminiscence of Longfellow.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">ARDILY</span>, wearily,</div> - <div class="i1">Reacheth its goal</div> - <div class="i0">The Session of '80,</div> - <div class="i1">Tired old soul!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cover the benches,</div> - <div class="i1">And put out the light;</div> - <div class="i0">Divisions are over,</div> - <div class="i1">And sittings all night.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The bells are all dumb,</div> - <div class="i1">And idle the wire;</div> - <div class="i0">Rant sinks into silence,</div> - <div class="i1">Reporters retire.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Fewer and fewer</div> - <div class="i1">The few footsteps fall;</div> - <div class="i0">Quiet and Constables</div> - <div class="i1">Reign over all!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6"><em>Punch</em>, September 18, 1880.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIDGE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">STOOD</span> on the bridge at midnight,</div> - <div class="i1">As the clocks were striking the hour,</div> - <div class="i0">And the moon rose o'er the city,</div> - <div class="i1">Behind the dark-church tower.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How often, oh, how often,</div> - <div class="i1">In the days that had gone by,</div> - <div class="i0">I had stood on the bridge at midnight</div> - <div class="i1">And gazed on that wave and sky!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIDGE</span> (By <em>Longus Socius</em>.)</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I stood on the bridge at midday,</div> - <div class="i1">And the crowd was striking in power,</div> - <div class="i0">And the roar rose from the City,</div> - <div class="i1">And the docks about the Tower.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And I made a bright reflection</div> - <div class="i1">On the waters under me,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a muddy highway flowing</div> - <div class="i1">With steamers to the sea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How often, oh, how often,</div> - <div class="i1">In omnibus or fly,</div> - <div class="i0">I have crossed the bridge at midday,</div> - <div class="i1">When you hardly could get by.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How often, oh, how often</div> - <div class="i1">I have wished the crowd beside</div> - <div class="i0">Were at Jericho or elsewhere,</div> - <div class="i1">Or the pathways were more wide.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For my heart was hot and restless,</div> - <div class="i1">And my mind was full of care,</div> - <div class="i0">Lest the train I wished to go by</div> - <div class="i1">Might start 'ere I got there.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And I think how many thousand</div> - <div class="i1">Of crowd-encumbered men,</div> - <div class="i0">Each striving to stem the current,</div> - <div class="i1">Have missed their trains since then.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I see the long processions</div> - <div class="i1">Of the cabs and the 'busses go,</div> - <div class="i0">And the eager people restless,</div> - <div class="i1">Because they must walk so slow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And for ever, and for ever,</div> - <div class="i1">For all that a party knows,</div> - <div class="i0">As long as the cabs and the 'busses</div> - <div class="i1">Must pause with their frequent "whoas,"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To cross it in either direction</div> - <div class="i1">Will take an hour or near,</div> - <div class="i0">So you simply must start at eleven,</div> - <div class="i1">If by twelve you would cross it clear.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Fun</em>, November 3, 1866.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">INK</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Respectfully Dedicated to the Author of "The Bridge."</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">SAT</span> in the Rink at midday;</div> - <div class="i1">The clocks were striking the hour,</div> - <div class="i0">But you would not have known, for the April sun</div> - <div class="i1">Was quenched in a copious shower.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I saw the raindrops falling</div> - <div class="i1">In puddles in the street,</div> - <div class="i0">And I envied the throng that was passing along</div> - <div class="i1">With wet, but unrollered feet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And far in the hazy distance</div> - <div class="i1">Of that dripping April day,</div> - <div class="i0">My snug hearth fire gleam'd redder and higher,</div> - <div class="i1">Because I was far away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The rattle of wheels rang round me,</div> - <div class="i1">With a quaint and wooden roar,</div> - <div class="i0">And groups of the fair, with dishevelled hair,</div> - <div class="i1">Were lying about on the floor.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">E'en I, in a moment of madness,</div> - <div class="i1">Had snatched at the fatal cup.</div> - <div class="i0">And my rollers were on, but I sat all alone,</div> - <div class="i1">For alas! I could not get up.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And like those rinkers rolling</div> - <div class="i1">Amongst their woodon piers,</div> - <div class="i0">A flood of thoughts came o'er me</div> - <div class="i1">That filled my eyes with tears.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How often, oh, how often,</div> - <div class="i1">In the days that had gone by,</div> - <div class="i0">I had waltzed in that room at midnight,</div> - <div class="i1">With a fixed and a vacant eye.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How often, oh, how often,</div> - <div class="i1">I had wished that a cab from afar,</div> - <div class="i0">Would bear me away in its bosom</div> - <div class="i1">To my rooms, and a mild cigar.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For my limbs were hot and restless,</div> - <div class="i1">And my boots a serious care,</div> - <div class="i0">And the burden of mild flirtation,</div> - <div class="i1">Seemed greater than I could bear.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But now it is changed and vanished,</div> - <div class="i1">It has fallen over the brink;</div> - <div class="i0">Before, we were sad, but now we are mad,</div> - <div class="i1">And the ball-room is turned to a rink.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet whenever I watch these rinkers</div> - <div class="i1">Amongst their wooden piers,</div> - <div class="i0">Like the sound of April raindrops,</div> - <div class="i1">Comes the thought of other years.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And I think how many thousands</div> - <div class="i1">Of skate-encumbered men,</div> - <div class="i0">Each bearing his burden of ladies,</div> - <div class="i1">Have rinked on this floor since then.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I see the long procession,</div> - <div class="i1">Still tottering to and fro,</div> - <div class="i0">The young feet clumsy and rapid,</div> - <div class="i1">The old feet clumsy and slow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And for ever, and for ever,</div> - <div class="i1">As long as the raindrops fall,</div> - <div class="i0">As long as we've angling ladies,</div> - <div class="i1">(And angular too) at all,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Rink and its ceaseless rollers,</div> - <div class="i1">And its broken limbs, shall appear</div> - <div class="i0">As the symbol of Bedlam's madness</div> - <div class="i1">And its accurate image here!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">K<span class="smcapa">IT</span> N<span class="smcapa">UBBLES</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Figaro</em>, June 14, 1876.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">HITEFRIARGATE</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIDGE.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I stood on the bridge at midnight,</div> - <div class="i1">As "Travis" was striking the hour;</div> - <div class="i0">And the moon rose o'er the city</div> - <div class="i1">Aslant the Dock Co.'s tower.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I stood and recalled how savage,</div> - <div class="i1">In the day that's just gone by,</div> - <div class="i0">I was stopped by that bridge at midday,</div> - <div class="i1">And watched it raised on high.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">III.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For my heart was hot and restless,</div> - <div class="i1">My business full of care;</div> - <div class="i0">And the check thus put upon me</div> - <div class="i1">Seemed longer than I could bear.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And I thought how many thousands</div> - <div class="i1">Of work-encumbered men,</div> - <div class="i0">On hearing the bell a-ringing,</div> - <div class="i1">Have cursed this bridge since then.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">V.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I see the long procession</div> - <div class="i1">Still pacing to and fro—</div> - <div class="i0">The master, the clerk, the workman;</div> - <div class="i1">The Dockmen, officious and slow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And forever, and forever,</div> - <div class="i1">As long as the Company goes,</div> - <div class="i0">As long as we brook the fashion</div> - <div class="i1">Of transit, and bow to our woes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So long we shall lose our appointments,</div> - <div class="i1">So long by our spouses be told</div> - <div class="i0">That we're ten minutes late as usual,</div> - <div class="i1">And our dinner is getting cold.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Whitefriargate Papers</em>, Hull, February 17, 1872.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">UNSET.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>An Imitation.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">STOOD</span> on the shore at even,</div> - <div class="i1">And I looked out into the west,</div> - <div class="i0">Out over the pathless ocean,</div> - <div class="i1">As the sun sank down to rest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I saw him dip into the billows,</div> - <div class="i1">And the sea was one blaze of light,</div> - <div class="i0">As if day's expiring effort</div> - <div class="i1">Was to blacken the darkness of night.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From my feet to the far horizon</div> - <div class="i1">Was a golden sparkling road,</div> - <div class="i0">A type of the path that leads us</div> - <div class="i1">From earth to God's abode.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As darkness fell on the waters,</div> - <div class="i1">I heard the sea-birds' cry,</div> - <div class="i0">And the mighty ocean answered</div> - <div class="i1">With its waves in an endless sigh.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then I thought how like the sunlight</div> - <div class="i1">We find our hopes depart,</div> - <div class="i0">And the ocean's endless sighing</div> - <div class="i1">Found an echo in my heart.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">F. W. D., St. Alban Hall.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p><em>College Rhymes</em> (T. Shrimpton and Sons, Oxford), 1873.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">LAVE'S</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAM</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">ESIDE</span> the ungathered rice he lay,</div> - <div class="i1">His sickle in his hand;</div> - <div class="i0">His breast was bare, his matted hair</div> - <div class="i1">Was buried in the sand,</div> - <div class="i0">Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,</div> - <div class="i1">He saw his Native Land</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The forests, with their myriad tongues,</div> - <div class="i1">Shouted of liberty:</div> - <div class="i0">And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,</div> - <div class="i1">With a voice so wild and free,</div> - <div class="i0">That be started in his sleep, and smiled</div> - <div class="i1">At their tempestuous glee.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He did not feel the driver's whip,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor the burning heat of day;</div> - <div class="i0">For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,</div> - <div class="i1">And his lifeless body lay</div> - <div class="i0">A worn-out fetter, that the soul</div> - <div class="i1">Had broken and thrown away!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">WELL'S</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAM</span>; <span class="smcapa">OR</span>, W<span class="smcapa">HAT HIS</span> H<span class="smcapa">EIR WOULD LIKE TO BRING ABOUT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Dedicated by a Shortman to a Longfellow.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">ESIDE</span> an untouched ice he lay,</div> - <div class="i1">An eighteenpenny cigar in his hand,</div> - <div class="i0">He shook his hair with an angry air</div> - <div class="i1">At the sound of a distant band.</div> - <div class="i0">Then he dreamt in the mist and shadow of sleep</div> - <div class="i1">He was a beggar in the Strand.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wide through his frock-coat's gaping seams</div> - <div class="i1">His fancy shirting showed;</div> - <div class="i0">He had no gloves, no crutchy cane,</div> - <div class="i1">No nosegay <em>a la mode;</em></div> - <div class="i0">And he saw a man, with a tinkling pan,</div> - <div class="i1">Crying m-u-lk all down the road!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">III.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He felt quite sore, and very lean,</div> - <div class="i1">His face was sadly tanned;</div> - <div class="i0">His bones stuck out on both his cheeks,</div> - <div class="i1">And he could hardly stand.</div> - <div class="i0">A tear dropped from the sleeper's lids,</div> - <div class="i1">His Havanna from his hand.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And then the dismal vision showed</div> - <div class="i1">The way in which he sank;</div> - <div class="i0">From golden chains, to aches and pains,</div> - <div class="i1">With no balance at the bank.</div> - <div class="i0">For this woe he could feel, and it caused him to reel,</div> - <div class="i1">He had but himself to thank.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">V.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From a popular man, dubbed a wit and a wag,</div> - <div class="i1">To a pauper without a <em>sous;</em></div> - <div class="i0">From morn till night, like an unhappy wight,</div> - <div class="i1">Cut or shunned by all he knew.</div> - <div class="i0">And this was his fate, by stopping up late,</div> - <div class="i1">And losing his money at "loo!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How he had wasted his time and his tin</div> - <div class="i1">By keeping and driving a team.</div> - <div class="i0">The care and the cash he had spent on his weeds,</div> - <div class="i1">All this he saw in his dream.</div> - <div class="i0">And, as his thoughts sped, the blood in his head</div> - <div class="i1">Curdled up like so much cream.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He thought of the good he might have done</div> - <div class="i1">For love and charity;</div> - <div class="i0">And with anguish bowed, he cried out aloud</div> - <div class="i1">A word that began with a "d!"</div> - <div class="i0">He started and woke—and exceedingly riled,</div> - <div class="i1">Rang the bell for a Soda and B.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How did he feel as he took out his watch,</div> - <div class="i1">And consulted the time of day?</div> - <div class="i0">Had he learnt a lesson from the Land of Sleep?</div> - <div class="i1">I hope for my sake he may!</div> - <div class="i0">And I think the moral <em>did</em> reach its goal,</div> - <div class="i1">For he's got quite stingy they say.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From <em>Cribblings from the Poets</em> (Jones and Piggott, -Cambridge, 1883).</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ILENT</span> L<span class="smcapa">AND</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">NTO</span> the Silent Land!</div> - <div class="i0">Ah! who shall lead us thither?</div> - <div class="i0">Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,</div> - <div class="i0">And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand.</div> - <div class="i0">Who leads us with a gentle hand</div> - <div class="i0">Thither, O thither,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the Silent Land?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> I<span class="smcapa">RISH</span> L<span class="smcapa">AND</span>!</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>After Longfellow and Salis.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">NTO</span> the Irish Land!</div> - <div class="i0">Ah! who shall lead us thither?</div> - <div class="i0">Clouds in the Western sky less darkly gather,</div> - <div class="i0">And household wrecks less thickly dot the strand.</div> - <div class="i0">Who leads us with a friendly hand,</div> - <div class="i0">Thither, oh thither,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the Irish Land?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O Land! O Land!</div> - <div class="i0">For which poor Pat hath plotted,</div> - <div class="i0">G<span class="smcapa">LADSTONE</span>, mild herald by kind fate allotted,</div> - <div class="i0">Beckons, and with his blessed Bill doth stand,</div> - <div class="i0">To lead us with a friendly hand</div> - <div class="i0">Into the Land whence we've long been parted,</div> - <div class="i0">Into the Irish Land!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, August 13, 1881.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In <em>Punch</em> of October 21, 1882, there was -another parody of this poem, entitled "Song of -the Oyster Land," by a <em>Longing Fellow</em>, commencing—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Into the Oyster Land!</div> - <div class="i0">Ah! Who shall lead us thither?"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> N<span class="smcapa">ORMAN</span> B<span class="smcapa">ARON</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">N</span> his chamber, weak and dying,</div> - <div class="i0">Was the Norman baron lying;</div> - <div class="i0">Loud without the tempest thundered,</div> - <div class="i2">And the castle-turret shook.</div> - <div class="i0">In this fight was Death the gainer,</div> - <div class="i0">Spite of vassal and retainer,</div> - <div class="i0">And the lands his sires had plundered,</div> - <div class="i2">Written in the Doomsday Book.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Every vassal of his banner,</div> - <div class="i0">Every serf born to his manor,</div> - <div class="i0">All those wronged and wretched creatures</div> - <div class="i2">By his hand were freed again.</div> - <div class="i0">And, as on the sacred missal</div> - <div class="i0">He recorded their dismissal,</div> - <div class="i0">Death relaxed his iron features,</div> - <div class="i2">And the monk replied, "Amen!"</div> - <div class="i0">Many centuries have been numbered</div> - <div class="i0">Since in death the baron slumbered</div> - <div class="i0">By the convent's sculptured portal.</div> - <div class="i2">Mingling with the common dust.</div> - <div class="i0">But the good deed, through the ages</div> - <div class="i0">Living in historic pages,</div> - <div class="i0">Brighter grows and gleams immortal,</div> - <div class="i2">Unconsumed by moth or rust.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">EPENTANT</span> B<span class="smcapa">ARON</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">A Lay of Berlin.</p> - -<p class="center">(<em>After Professor Shortfellow.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In his chamber, mine adjoining,</div> - <div class="i0">Was the German Baron dining.</div> - <div class="i1">Loud his voice with passion thundered,</div> - <div class="i2">And with fear the kellner shook.</div> - <div class="i0">As I listened it was plainer</div> - <div class="i0">That he bullied this retainer,</div> - <div class="i1">Forasmuch as he had blundered;</div> - <div class="i2">Or it might have been the cook.</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Just outside, upon the Linden,</div> - <div class="i0">On an instrument (a wind 'un)</div> - <div class="i1">Played a minstrel most demurely,</div> - <div class="i2">Dismal as the parish waits.</div> - <div class="i0">And so loud he kept on getting,</div> - <div class="i0">While his frau stood by him, knitting,</div> - <div class="i1">That I thought, "The Baron, surely,</div> - <div class="i2">Will demolish all the plates."</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Spare a groschen, princely stranger!</div> - <div class="i0">May you never be in danger</div> - <div class="i1">Of the want of means to spare 'un,</div> - <div class="i2">Or a couple, if so be."</div> - <div class="i0">Then the minstrel went on playing,</div> - <div class="i0">Not a single word more saying;</div> - <div class="i1">And exclaimed the shuddering Baron,</div> - <div class="i2">"<em>Miserere Domine!</em>"</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Tears upon his eyelids glistened</div> - <div class="i0">While in agony he listened</div> - <div class="i1">To the instrument (a wind 'un)</div> - <div class="i2">Which the minstrel he did play.</div> - <div class="i0">Then unto the kellner ready,</div> - <div class="i0">"Take this double thaler," said he,</div> - <div class="i1">To the minstrel of the Linden,</div> - <div class="i2">Begging him to go away."</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In that hour of deep contrition</div> - <div class="i0">He beheld with double vision</div> - <div class="i1">All the sins he had committed,</div> - <div class="i2">And he said in accents thick</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> - <div class="i2">To the kellner, "Loo' here, kellner,</div> - <div class="i2">You're a 'spec'ble kind o' felner;</div> - <div class="i1"><em>I'm</em> a felner to be pitied;</div> - <div class="i2">I'm a mis'ble felner! Hic.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Can you feel for one in sorrow?</div> - <div class="i0">I shall make my will to-morrow;</div> - <div class="i1">I shall leave you all my money,</div> - <div class="i2">Every single thing that's mine.</div> - <div class="i0">Watch—repeater; ring—carbuncle;</div> - <div class="i0">Kellner you're my long-lost uncle.</div> - <div class="i1">Just discovered this—how funny!</div> - <div class="i2">Fesh another bolowine."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many hours the clock has numbered</div> - <div class="i0">Since the German Baron slumbered;</div> - <div class="i1">And his boots are at the portal</div> - <div class="i2">Of his chamber, free from dust;</div> - <div class="i0">And an instrument (a wind 'un)</div> - <div class="i0">Sounds again upon the Linden,</div> - <div class="i1">Waking that unhappy mortal</div> - <div class="i2">From the snorings of the just.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">G<span class="smcapa">ODFREY</span> T<span class="smcapa">URNER</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Tom Hood's Comic Annual</em>, 1871.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<p>Longfellow's ballad, <em>The Skeleton in Armour</em> -commences thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"S<span class="smcapa">PEAK</span>! speak! thou fearful guest!</div> - <div class="i0">Who, with thy hollow breast</div> - <div class="i0">Still in rude armour drest,</div> - <div class="i2">Comest to daunt me!</div> - <div class="i0">Wrapt not in Eastern balms,</div> - <div class="i0">But with thy fleshless palms</div> - <div class="i0">Stretched, as if asking alms,</div> - <div class="i2">Why dost thou haunt me?"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>its metre was admirably imitated by the late -C. S. Calverley, in his</p> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">DE TO</span> T<span class="smcapa">OBACCO.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HOU</span> who, when fears attack</div> - <div class="i0">Bidst them avaunt, and Black</div> - <div class="i0">Care, at the horseman's back,</div> - <div class="i2">Perching, unseatest;</div> - <div class="i0">Sweet when the morn is grey;</div> - <div class="i0">Sweet when they've cleared away</div> - <div class="i0">Lunch, and at close of day</div> - <div class="i2">Possibly sweetest.</div> - <div class="i0">I have a liking old</div> - <div class="i0">For thee, though manifold</div> - <div class="i0">Stories, I know are told,</div> - <div class="i2">Not to thy credit.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cats may have had their goose</div> - <div class="i0">Cooked by tobacco juice;</div> - <div class="i0">Still why deny its use</div> - <div class="i2">Thoughtfully taken?</div> - <div class="i0">We're not as tabbies are:</div> - <div class="i0">Smith take a fresh cigar!</div> - <div class="i0">Jones, the tobacco jar!</div> - <div class="i2">Here's to thee, Bacon!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From C. S. Calverley's <em>Verses and Translations</em> (George -Bell and Sons).</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">ERBY</span> W<span class="smcapa">EEK</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Long Way After a Longfellow.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, Derby week, oh, Derby week, how precious are thy pleasures!</div> - <div class="i4">Not hymned alone in summer-time</div> - <div class="i4">With hoarse enthusiastic rhyme,</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, Derby week, oh, Derby week, but hailed in pewtern measures!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, Derby week, oh, Derby week, how coarse the cads who "put on"</div> - <div class="i4">Their three half-crowns for Insulaire,</div> - <div class="i4">Or intimate Sir Joseph's "square."</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, Derby week, oh, Derby week—as if I cared a button!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Saturnian feasts, Saturnian feasts, you ape, despite Dame Grundy.</div> - <div class="i4">We laugh until the dread bell rings,</div> - <div class="i4">But oh, the aches to-morrow brings,</div> - <div class="i0">And Derby week, and Derby week, that reckoning on the Monday!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The welsher's book, the welsher's book, is mirror of thy glories:</div> - <div class="i4">It's ready when <em>their</em> horse comes in,</div> - <div class="i4">But somewhat muddled when <em>you</em> win.</div> - <div class="i0">The welsher's book, the welsher's book, whips Black's in point of stories!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So Derby week, oh, Derby week, your usual style, we think, errs,</div> - <div class="i4">In ending in too cheerful nights,</div> - <div class="i4">Headaches and debts, green veils and fights,</div> - <div class="i0">And Derby week, oh, Derby week, Dutch dolls and British drinkers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Funny Folks</em>, June 8, 1878.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following are parodies of the "Saga of -King Olaf," contained in Longfellow's "Tales -of a Wayside Inn":—</p> - - -<h3>Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span> S<span class="smcapa">IGRID THE</span> H<span class="smcapa">AUGHTY</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Longfellow Cut Short.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Queen Sigrid the Haughty sat proud and aloft,</div> - <div class="i0">In her chamber that looked over meadow and croft;</div> - <div class="i0">She held in her hand a ring of gold</div> - <div class="i0">That was brought to her by a henchman old.</div> - <div class="i0">King Olaf had sent her that wedding gift;</div> - <div class="i0">But knowing King Olaf was prone to thrift,</div> - <div class="i0">She gave the ring to her goldsmiths twain,</div> - <div class="i0">Who smiled as they handed it back again.</div> - <div class="i0">Then Sigrid the Queen in her haughty way,</div> - <div class="i0">Asked, "Why do you smile, my goldsmiths, pray?"</div> - <div class="i0">They answered, "Queen, if the truth be told,</div> - <div class="i0">The ring is Brummagem—'t isn't gold!"</div> - <div class="i0">The colour flushed over forehead and cheek,</div> - <div class="i0">She simply stamped—but she did not speak.</div> - <div class="i0">A footstep rang on the outer stair,</div> - <div class="i0">And in strode Olaf with royal air.</div> - <div class="i0">He kissed her hand, and he whispered love,</div> - <div class="i0">And (just for the rhyme) he murmured "Dove!"</div> - <div class="i0">She smiled with contempt as she said "Oh, king!</div> - <div class="i0">Step it—and get five bob on that ring!"</div> - <div class="i0">The face of King Olaf was dark with gloom,</div> - <div class="i0">He swore as he strode about the room.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> - <div class="i0">She raised her brows and looked at the King—</div> - <div class="i0">"To swear before ladies is not the thing!"</div> - <div class="i0">"Why should I wed thee," he cried, "old maid?</div> - <div class="i0">A faded beauty, a heathen jade!"</div> - <div class="i0">He swore a swear, and he stamped a stamp,</div> - <div class="i0">And he fetched her a whack with his gingham Gamp.</div> - <div class="i0">They placed the King in a dungeon vault,</div> - <div class="i0">Because he was guilty of an assault,</div> - <div class="i0">With Tupper for supper, and hot cross buns</div> - <div class="i0">They slowly starved him, those savage ones,</div> - <div class="i0">And his only drink was Petrole<em>um</em>—</div> - <div class="i0">And he'd been accustomed to Red Heart Rum!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">A S<span class="smcapa">HORTFELLOW</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">AGA OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">KATERMAN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">D<span class="smcapa">OWN</span> by the Serpentine,</div> - <div class="i0">Found I the Skaterman—</div> - <div class="i0">Found him a-wiping his</div> - <div class="i0">Eyes with his ulster-sleeve,</div> - <div class="i0">Eyes full of scalding tears,</div> - <div class="i0">Red with much blubbering.</div> - <div class="i0">Red was his nose likewise—</div> - <div class="i0">Deeply I pitied him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Cheer up, O Skaterman!</div> - <div class="i0">Never say die!" says I.</div> - <div class="i0">"Cheer up, my hearty!"—so</div> - <div class="i0">Tried I to comfort him,</div> - <div class="i0">Slapping his back, whereby</div> - <div class="i0">Coughed he like anything,</div> - <div class="i0">Forth went my heart to him,</div> - <div class="i0">Lent him my wipe, I did,</div> - <div class="i0">Dried his poor nose and eyes,</div> - <div class="i0">Sitting aside of him</div> - <div class="i0">Holding his hand.</div> - <div class="i0">"Hark to the Skald!" I says,</div> - <div class="i0">"Tell him what's up with thee;</div> - <div class="i0">Thor of the Hammer will</div> - <div class="i0">Come to thine aid!"</div> - <div class="i0">Then spake the Skaterman,</div> - <div class="i0">Rumbling with muttered oaths</div> - <div class="i0">Deep in his diaphragm,</div> - <div class="i0">Grumbling at Thor:</div> - <div class="i0">"Blow Thaw and Scald!" he cried;</div> - <div class="i0">"Blow heverythink!" he cried,</div> - <div class="i0">Salt tears a-rolling down</div> - <div class="i0">Alongside his nose.</div> - <div class="i0">"See these here 'Hacmes,' Sir,</div> - <div class="i0">New from the Store they are,</div> - <div class="i0">Never been used afore,</div> - <div class="i0">Twelve-and-six thrown away!</div> - <div class="i0">Friga the Frigid came,</div> - <div class="i0">Friga, great Odin's wife,</div> - <div class="i0">Bound up the river-gods,</div> - <div class="i0">Laid out an icy floor</div> - <div class="i0">Mete for the Skaterman.</div> - <div class="i0">Then I began to hoard.</div> - <div class="i0">Weekly and weekly hoard,</div> - <div class="i0">All of my saving to</div> - <div class="i0">Buy these here things—</div> - <div class="i0">Came Thaw, the thunder-god,</div> - <div class="i0">Brake up the Ice-bound stream—</div> - <div class="i0">Twelve-and-six thrown away,</div> - <div class="i0">That's what's the matter, Sir—</div> - <div class="i0">Thaw, he be blowed!"</div> - <div class="i0">Then, with a wild shriek, he</div> - <div class="i0">Upped with his knobby stick,</div> - <div class="i0">Smote on the Acme steel,</div> - <div class="i0">Smote with a mighty stroke,</div> - <div class="i0">Smote it and broke it up</div> - <div class="i0">Into small flinderkins,</div> - <div class="i0">Banged it and smashed it up</div> - <div class="i0">Into smithereens.</div> - <div class="i0">Shocked, then I left him there,</div> - <div class="i0">Grumbling at Thor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Punch's Almanack</em>, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another long parody of the same original was -contained in <cite>Punch</cite>, September 20, 1879. It was -entitled "A Modern Saga," and consisted of -nine verses, describing Professor Nordenskiöld's -travels and discoveries concerning the North-East -passage.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>It is now a good many years since a well-known -American author, Mr. Bayard Taylor, -produced a clever little book, entitled "Diversions -of the Echo Club." The late Mr. John -Camden Hotten published it in London, and it -has since gone through several editions. The -scheme of the book is thus given by the -author:—"In the rear of Karl Schäfer's lager-beer -cellar and restaurant—which everyone -knows, is but a block from the central part of -Broadway—there is a small room, with a vaulted -ceiling, which Karl calls his <em>Löwengrube</em>, or -Lions' Den. Here, in their Bohemian days, -Zoïlus and the Gannet had been accustomed to -meet, discuss literary projects, and read fragments -of manuscript to each other. The Chorus, -the Ancient and young Galahad gradually fell -into the same habit, and thus a little circle of -six, seven, or eight members came to be formed. -The room could comfortably contain no more: -it was quiet, with a dim, smoky, confidential -atmosphere, and suggested Auerbach's Cellar to -the Ancient, who had been in Leipzig.</p> - -<p>Here authors, books, magazines, and newspapers -were talked about; sometimes a manuscript -poem was read by its writer; while mild -potations of beer and the dreamy breath of cigars -delayed the nervous, fidgetty, clattering-footed -American Hours. The character which the -society assumed for a short time was purely -accidental. As one of the Chorus, I was present -at the first meeting, and, of course, I never -failed afterwards. The four authors who furnished -our entertainment were not aware that I -had written down, from memory, the substance -of the conversations, until our evenings came to -an end, and I have had some difficulty in obtaining -their permission to publish my reports."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - -<p>These so-called "Reports" describe the proceedings -at eight meetings of the Club, and the -conversation is devoted to criticisms of the most -famous modern poets. The members next proceed -to draw lots as to whose works they shall -imitate, the result being a series of parodies, or, -more correctly speaking, comical imitations of -style, many of which are exceedingly amusing.</p> - -<p>The principal poets thus parodied are William -Morris; Robert Browning; E. A. Poe; John -Keats; Mrs. Sigourney; A. C. Swinburne; -R. W. Emerson; E. C. Stedman; Dante G. -Rossetti; Barry Cornwall; J. G. Whittier; -Oliver Wendell Holmes; Alfred Tennyson; -H. W. Longfellow; Walt Whitman; Bret -Harte; J. R. Lowell; Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett -Browning; and several less known authors.</p> - -<p>Amongst the minor poets are included several -American writers, whose works are almost -unknown to English readers.</p> - -<p>On the Fifth night <em>Zoilus</em> draws <em>Longfellow</em>, and -his comrades caution him to beware how he -treats an author, already a classic, whose works -have been complimented by many ordinary -parodies. He composes the following imitation -of Longfellow's hexameters:—</p> - - -<h3>N<span class="smcapa">AUVOO.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">This is the place: be still for a while, my high-pressure steamboat!</div> - <div class="i0">Let me survey the spot where the Mormons builded their temple.</div> - <div class="i0">Much have I mused on the wreck and ruin of ancient religions,</div> - <div class="i0">Scandinavian, Greek, Assyrian, Zend, and the Sanskrit,</div> - <div class="i0">Yea, and explored the mysteries hidden in Talmudic targums,</div> - <div class="i0">Caught the gleam of Chrysaor's sword and occulted Orion,</div> - <div class="i0">Backward spelled the lines of the Hebrew graveyard at Newport,</div> - <div class="i0">Studied Ojibwa symbols and those of the Quarry of Pipestone,</div> - <div class="i0">Also the myths of the Zulus whose questions converted Colenso,</div> - <div class="i0">So, methinks, it were well I should muse a little at Nauvoo.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Fair was he not, the primitive Prophet, nor he who succeeded,</div> - <div class="i0">Hardly for poetry fit, though using the Urim and Thummin.</div> - <div class="i0">Had he but borrowed Levitical trappings, the girdle and ephod,</div> - <div class="i0">Fine twined linen, and ouches of gold, and bells and pomegranates,</div> - <div class="i0">That, indeed, might have kindled the weird necromancy of fancy.</div> - <div class="i0">Had he but set up mystical forms, like Astarte or Peor,</div> - <div class="i0">Balder, or Freya, Quetzalcoatl, Perun, Manabozho,</div> - <div class="i0">Verily, though to the sense theologic it might be offensive,</div> - <div class="i0">Great were the gain to the pictured, flashing speech of the poet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet the Muse that delights in Mesopotamian numbers,</div> - <div class="i0">Vague and vast as the roar of the wind in a forest of pine-trees,</div> - <div class="i0">Now must tune her strings to the names of Joseph and Brigham.</div> - <div class="i0">Hebrew, the first; and a Smith before the Deluge was Tubal,</div> - <div class="i0">Thor of the East, who first made iron ring to the hammer;</div> - <div class="i0">So on the iron heads of the people about him, the latter,</div> - <div class="i0">Striking the sparks of belief and forging their faith in the Good Time</div> - <div class="i0">Coming, the Latter Day, as he called it,—the Kingdom of Zion.</div> - <div class="i0">Then, in the words of Philip the Eunuch unto Belshazzar,</div> - <div class="i0">Came to him multitudes wan, diseased and decrepit of spirit,</div> - <div class="i0">Came and heard and believed, and builded the temple of Nauvoo.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All is past; for Joseph was smitten with lead from a pistol,</div> - <div class="i0">Brigham went with the others over the prairies to Salt Lake.</div> - <div class="i0">Answers now to the long, disconsolate wail of the steamer,</div> - <div class="i0">Hoarse, inarticulate, shrill, the rolling and bounding of ten-pins,—</div> - <div class="i0">Answers the voice of the bar-tender, mixing the smash and the julep,</div> - <div class="i0">Answers, precocious, the boy, and bites a chew of tobacco.</div> - <div class="i0">Lone as the towers of Afrasiab now is the seat of the Prophet,</div> - <div class="i0">Mournful, inspiring to verse, though seeming utterly vulgar:</div> - <div class="i0">Also—for each thing now is expected to furnish a moral—</div> - <div class="i0">Teaching innumerable lessons for who so believes and is patient.</div> - <div class="i0">Thou, that readest, be resolute, learn to be strong and to suffer!</div> - <div class="i0">Let the dead Past bury its dead and act in the Present!</div> - <div class="i0">Bear a banner of strange devices, "Forever" and "Never!"</div> - <div class="i0">Build in the walls of time the fame of a permanent Nauvoo,</div> - <div class="i0">So that thy brethren may see it and say, "Go thou and do likewise!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This poem does not altogether meet with his -comrades' approval; Zoïlus retorts that "it is -no easy thing to be funny in hexameters; the -Sapphic verse is much more practicable."</p> - -<p><em>The Gannet</em> hereupon asserts that he could -write an imitation of Longfellow's higher strains—not -of those which are so well known and so -much quoted—which would be fairer to the -poet, and after a short interval produces—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">EWING</span>-M<span class="smcapa">ACHINE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A strange vibration from the cottage window</div> - <div class="i1">My vagrant steps delayed,</div> - <div class="i0">And half abstracted, like the ancient Hindoo,</div> - <div class="i1">I paused beneath the shade.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What is, I said, this unremitting humming,</div> - <div class="i1">Louder than bees in spring?</div> - <div class="i0">As unto prayer the murmurous answer coming,</div> - <div class="i1">Shed from Sandalphon's wing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Is this the sound of unimpeded labour,</div> - <div class="i1">That now usurpeth play?</div> - <div class="i0">Our harsher substitute for pipe and tabor,</div> - <div class="i1">Ghittern and virelay?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Or, is it yearning for a higher vision,</div> - <div class="i1">By spiritual hearing heard?</div> - <div class="i0">Nearer I drew, to listen with precision,</div> - <div class="i1">Detecting not a word.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Then, peering through the pane, as men of sin do,</div> - <div class="i1">Myself the while unseen,</div> - <div class="i0">I marked a maiden seated by the window,</div> - <div class="i1">Sewing with a machine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Her gentle foot propelled the tireless treadle,</div> - <div class="i1">Her gentle hand the seam:</div> - <div class="i0">My fancy said, it were a bliss to peddle</div> - <div class="i1">Those shirts, as in a dream!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Her lovely fingers lent to yoke and collar</div> - <div class="i1">Some imperceptible taste;</div> - <div class="i0">The rural swain, who buys it for a dollar,</div> - <div class="i1">By beauty is embraced.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O fairer aspect of the common mission!</div> - <div class="i1">Only the Poet sees</div> - <div class="i0">The true significance, the high position</div> - <div class="i1">Of such small things as these.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not now doth Toil, a brutal Boanerges,</div> - <div class="i1">Deform the maiden's hand;</div> - <div class="i0">Her implement its soft sonata merges</div> - <div class="i1">In songs of sea and land.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And thus the hum of the unspooling cotton,</div> - <div class="i1">Blent with her rhythmic tread,</div> - <div class="i0">Shall still be heard, when virelays are forgotten,</div> - <div class="i1">And troubadours are dead.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It may be said of "Diversions of the Echo -Club" (now published by Messrs. Chatto and -Windus), that whilst many of the parodies are -amusing, none are either vulgar or ill-natured; -the criticisms on the various poets are generally -just, thoughtful, and keenly perceptive.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Before leaving Longfellow there are two -amusing imitations of Hiawatha to be quoted; -Unfortunately, the very clever <em>Song of Big Ben</em> -is too long to quote in full, but it is easily -accessible:—</p> - - -<h3>THE SONG OF BIG BEN.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">S<span class="smcapa">HOULD</span> you ask me why these columns</div> - <div class="i0">Filled with words of many speakers—</div> - <div class="i0">Why this record of their doings,</div> - <div class="i0">With their frequent repetitions,</div> - <div class="i0">Their inane deliberations,</div> - <div class="i0">And their aggravating dulness?</div> - <div class="i2">I should answer, I should tell you,</div> - <div class="i0">"That I write them as I hear them,</div> - <div class="i0">As I hear, and as I see them;—</div> - <div class="i0">That the world may learn what happens</div> - <div class="i0">In the painted, gilded chamber,</div> - <div class="i0">In the chapel of St. Stephen's,</div> - <div class="i0">At the House of Talkee-Talkee,</div> - <div class="i0">Where, upon the woolsack, patient,</div> - <div class="i0">Lolls the Chancellor, hard-headed,</div> - <div class="i0">Where, enthroned above the table,</div> - <div class="i0">Sadly sits and broods the Speaker."</div> - <div class="i1">Should you ask me why he sits there?</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you,</div> - <div class="i0">"'Tis because the people will it;</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis because they send up members</div> - <div class="i0">Who will talk for moons together;</div> - <div class="i0">Nought accomplishing, yet spouting,</div> - <div class="i0">Like the dolphin, Mishe-no-zha,</div> - <div class="i0">Weak and watery stuff for ever."</div> - <div class="i1">If still further you should ask me,</div> - <div class="i0">Saying "But what do these members,</div> - <div class="i0">And the many like unto them,</div> - <div class="i0">In the House of Talkee-Talkee?"</div> - <div class="i1">I should answer your enquiry</div> - <div class="i0">Straightway in such words as follow:—</div> - <div class="i0">"Much they love to hear their voices</div> - <div class="i0">Talking rubbish at all seasons:</div> - <div class="i0">Many 'mongst them seize all chances</div> - <div class="i0">For the riding of their hobbies;</div> - <div class="i0">Ride them late and ride them early,</div> - <div class="i0">Ride them through the Standing Orders;</div> - <div class="i0">Ride them without bit or bridle,</div> - <div class="i0">Knowing not, nor caring whither."</div> - <div class="i1">And if once again you query,</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, "Is this all they do there?"</div> - <div class="i1">I should answer your fresh query,</div> - <div class="i0">I should meet your new conundrum</div> - <div class="i0">Right away in some such fashion</div> - <div class="i0">As the following, for instance,</div> - <div class="i0">I should tell you, "There are many</div> - <div class="i0">Who will bide their time with patience,</div> - <div class="i0">Knowing that to them by waiting</div> - <div class="i0">Will come all the things they long for.</div> - <div class="i0">That M.P. means oft More Power;</div> - <div class="i0">That 'twill bring them briefs and clients,</div> - <div class="i0">Make them 'guinea-pigs' and chairmen,</div> - <div class="i0">Knight them, maybe, in the future;</div> - <div class="i0">Or ennoble them if only</div> - <div class="i0">They will spend their money freely</div> - <div class="i0">For the party they belong to."</div> - <div class="i1">If you really had the conscience</div> - <div class="i0">To make any more enquiries,</div> - <div class="i0">I would answer, I should tell you</div> - <div class="i0">Not to ask more leading questions,</div> - <div class="i0">But to wait and read these columns.</div> - <div class="i0">In these records find your answers,</div> - <div class="i0">In these lines replies discover.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORDS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">To the gilded, painted chamber</div> - <div class="i0">Of the House of Talkee-Talkee,</div> - <div class="i0">Comes a crowd of various people,</div> - <div class="i0">Comes a flock of noble ladies,</div> - <div class="i0">Painted most, and all <em>decolletees;</em></div> - <div class="i0">Come the Bishops and the Judges,</div> - <div class="i0">Gravely taking up their places;</div> - <div class="i0">Clad in their state robes, the Judges,</div> - <div class="i0">Like to agéd washerwoman;</div> - <div class="i0">In their puffed lawn sleeves, the Bishops,</div> - <div class="i0">Fussy, like the hen that cackles</div> - <div class="i0">Over new-laid egg or chicken;</div> - <div class="i0">Come diplomatists by dozens,</div> - <div class="i0">Blazing with their numerous orders,</div> - <div class="i0">Which they gladly take, like bagmen;</div> - <div class="i0">Come with their vermilion buttons</div> - <div class="i0">And their petticoats of satin,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Wond'ring much, the Chinese Envoys:—</div> - <div class="i0">Wond'ring why it is the ladies</div> - <div class="i0">Care to sit squeezed up like herrings?</div> - <div class="i0">How it is their faces glow so</div> - <div class="i0">With the ruddy hues of nature?</div> - <div class="i0">Wond'ring why it is the nobles</div> - <div class="i0">Moon about with hideous cloaks on,</div> - <div class="i0">Making them appear round-shouldered,</div> - <div class="i0">Mute-like, "Jarvie-ish," ungainly?</div> - <div class="i0">Why it is Lord Coleridge carries</div> - <div class="i0">'Neath the folds of his the head-gear</div> - <div class="i0">Known in slang phrase as a "stove-pipe!"</div> - <div class="i0">Why in swallow-tail of evening</div> - <div class="i0">Mr. Pierrepoint walks at noon-day?</div> - <div class="i0">Why the Primate greets profusely</div> - <div class="i0">Fezzed Musurus when he enters?</div> - <div class="i0">Why the latter comes to gaze on</div> - <div class="i0">These ill-fated dogs of Christians</div> - <div class="i0">That his former masters cheated?</div> - <div class="i0">And their wonderment continues</div> - <div class="i0">As they hear the <em>charivari</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">See the entrances and exits,</div> - <div class="i0">Watch staid men in green and silver,</div> - <div class="i0">Rushing here and running thither.</div> - <div class="i0">Others, clad in velvet small-clothes,</div> - <div class="i0">Pottering in among the benches,</div> - <div class="i0">Nought effecting but confusion.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Entered are at last the household,</div> - <div class="i0">And the Queen comes through the doorway,</div> - <div class="i0">Sits she in her dress of velvet</div> - <div class="i0">On the throne, and all is silent.</div> - <div class="i0">Only for a minute's space though,</div> - <div class="i0">For, from down a distant lobby,</div> - <div class="i0">Comes the sound of pattering footsteps,</div> - <div class="i0">Like the rush of many waters,</div> - <div class="i0">By the shore of Gitche Gumee,</div> - <div class="i0">By the shining Big Sea Water.</div> - <div class="i0">Nearer, nearer, comes the pattering,</div> - <div class="i0">Louder, louder grow the voices,</div> - <div class="i0">More pronounced the hurried scuffling.</div> - <div class="i0">Now it seems as though the sound wave</div> - <div class="i0">Rolled close to the chamber's portal,</div> - <div class="i0">And, 'midst loud complaints and laughter,</div> - <div class="i0">Plainly heard by all who sat there,</div> - <div class="i0">Comes unto the bar the Speaker;</div> - <div class="i0">At his heels are Stafford Northcote,</div> - <div class="i0">And Ward Hunt, the Tory giant,</div> - <div class="i0">After them the deluge! Members</div> - <div class="i0">Fight and push, and pull and scuffle;</div> - <div class="i0">Loudly wrangle for their places,</div> - <div class="i0">And protest with scanty measure</div> - <div class="i0">Of politeness or good breeding;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst their premier, safe translated,</div> - <div class="i0">Smiles a smile that's cold and selfish.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">But at length the Commons settle</div> - <div class="i0">Into order as behoves them.</div> - <div class="i0">And the Chancellor upstanding</div> - <div class="i0">Mounts the throne's wide steps, and kneeling</div> - <div class="i0">To his sovereign he offers</div> - <div class="i0">Her own speech, which she declining,</div> - <div class="i0">He unrolls, and then distinctly</div> - <div class="i0">With a voice and tone majestic</div> - <div class="i0">(Picked up in his constant practice),</div> - <div class="i0">Read it in this way and this wise:—</div> - <div class="i0">"Listen to these words of wisdom</div> - <div class="i0">Sounding much but meaning little,</div> - <div class="i0">That with much elaborate caution,</div> - <div class="i0">In the Cabinet we hit on.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Oh, my faithful Lords and Commons,</div> - <div class="i0">As it is so far from likely</div> - <div class="i0">That you read the daily journals,</div> - <div class="i0">As it is so very certain</div> - <div class="i0">You've heard nothing that has happened,</div> - <div class="i0">I will tell you what you cannot</div> - <div class="i0">By remotest chance have heard of:</div> - <div class="i0">Know ye then, my trusted children,</div> - <div class="i0">There has been a war in Turkey,</div> - <div class="i0">And my Ministers have written</div> - <div class="i0">Some despatches on the subject;</div> - <div class="i0">So if, later on, my Commons</div> - <div class="i0">Should find out the vote for foolscap</div> - <div class="i0">And for ink and quills is swollen,</div> - <div class="i0">They will know the cause and pass it;</div> - <div class="i0">But let me haste on to tell you</div> - <div class="i0">In thrice twenty lines the items</div> - <div class="i0">That for weeks have been known fully</div> - <div class="i0">Through the papers to the people.</div> - <div class="i0">Know ye then, my Lords and Commons</div> - <div class="i0">(This is likewise news important,</div> - <div class="i0">I have journeyed far to tell you),</div> - <div class="i0">We joined Europe in a Conference,</div> - <div class="i0">And we sent our trusty cousin,</div> - <div class="i0">Robert Cecil, Salisbury's Marquis,</div> - <div class="i0">To take part in its discussions?</div> - <div class="i0">Know ye not that Robert Cecil,</div> - <div class="i0">Lordly master he of Hatfield,</div> - <div class="i0">Went and saw, but did not conquer—</div> - <div class="i0">Went and talked, but did not manage</div> - <div class="i0">Well his coaxing or his bluster;</div> - <div class="i0">Nay, came back completely vanquished,</div> - <div class="i0">And must do without his dukedom?</div> - <div class="i0">Need I add, my knowing children,</div> - <div class="i0">How his failure grieved his colleagues—</div> - <div class="i0">How Lord Derby wept to hear it—</div> - <div class="i0">How Lord Beaconsfield has felt it?</div> - <div class="i0">Still bewails it much in private,</div> - <div class="i0">And in public should his lips curl,</div> - <div class="i0">That is merely force of habit.</div> - <div class="i0">Know ye too, my legislators,</div> - <div class="i0">My most able statute-makers,</div> - <div class="i0">That my Indian subjects vastly</div> - <div class="i0">Liked the squibs let off at Delhi,</div> - <div class="i0">By my dreamy poet-Viceroy;</div> - <div class="i0">And, about to die of famine,</div> - <div class="i0">They enjoyed the show immensely.</div> - <div class="i0">All the Colonies are prosp'rous!</div> - <div class="i0">Which, if I am not mistaken,</div> - <div class="i0">Will be news to many of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Say, for instance, to Barbadoes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Gentlemen, who pull the purse-strings,</div> - <div class="i0">I presume you will, as usual,</div> - <div class="i0">Vote sufficient of the needful.</div> - <div class="i0">Go, then, and in these great labours</div> - <div class="i0">May the spirit of the Master,</div> - <div class="i0">Gitche Manito, the Mighty</div> - <div class="i0">Aid you, lest they should o'erwhelm you."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Then uprose the Queen, and vanished,</div> - <div class="i0">And a hubbub fills the Chamber:</div> - <div class="i0">Peers take off their robes of velvet;</div> - <div class="i0">Ladies cover up their shoulders,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> - <div class="i0">And the throng is quickly scattered;</div> - <div class="i1">Yet was very full the chamber—</div> - <div class="i0">Full of Lords, and full of strangers,</div> - <div class="i0">All come down, and feeling curious</div> - <div class="i0">How the Earl and eke the Marquis</div> - <div class="i0">Would get on when brought together;</div> - <div class="i0">Some there were who thought the Marquis</div> - <div class="i0">Would upon the Earl his back turn;</div> - <div class="i0">Some who thought the Earl would curl his</div> - <div class="i0">Upper lip, and snub the Marquis;</div> - <div class="i0">Others that the Marquis, smarting</div> - <div class="i0">With the knowledge that he'd been offered</div> - <div class="i0">Coolly on the Eastern altar,</div> - <div class="i0">That he had been made a victim;</div> - <div class="i0">Had been sent to wreck his prestige,</div> - <div class="i0">'Mongst the diplomatic breakers,</div> - <div class="i0">Would dig up the buried hatchet</div> - <div class="i0">From the <em>Quarterly's</em> shut pages,</div> - <div class="i0">Would dash down the friendly peace-pipe,</div> - <div class="i0">And his tomahawk turn wildly</div> - <div class="i0">On his former foe, Ben Dizzy;</div> - <div class="i0">But it did not come to pass so,</div> - <div class="i0">For on Thursday all was quiet,</div> - <div class="i0">And the Salisburian lion</div> - <div class="i0">Lay down with the Dizzian lambkin.</div> - <div class="i0">And the Marquis keeps his vengeance</div> - <div class="i0">For a more convenient season,</div> - <div class="i0">If, indeed, he has not hopes still</div> - <div class="i0">Of a dukedom for his failure.</div> - <div class="i1">After this they talked for four hours,</div> - <div class="i0">But the talk meant simply nothing!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">OMMONS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As the "brave" re-seeks his wigwam,</div> - <div class="i0">Left deserted in the autumn,</div> - <div class="i0">When the early spring-tide tempts him</div> - <div class="i0">To return and hunt the bison—</div> - <div class="i0">To return and trap the beaver—</div> - <div class="i0">To return and scalp the "pale-face"—</div> - <div class="i0">To return, in short, and do for</div> - <div class="i0">Many beasts and birds and fishes;</div> - <div class="i0">So unto their long-left places,</div> - <div class="i0">To their worn and padded places,</div> - <div class="i0">Where they sought for reputation—</div> - <div class="i0">Where they strove for loaves and fishes—</div> - <div class="i0">Where they hounded down the helpless—</div> - <div class="i0">Where they vexèd those in office—</div> - <div class="i0">Where they howled and snored and hooted—</div> - <div class="i0">Where they quite wore out the Speaker,</div> - <div class="i0">Harried Adderley and Holker,</div> - <div class="i0">Tried in vain to draw Ben Dizzy,</div> - <div class="i0">And gave forth such endless rubbish—</div> - <div class="i0">Came the M.P.'s for the Session.</div> - <div class="i0">Came in state, too, Mr. Speaker</div> - <div class="i0">With the mace and with his chaplain;—</div> - <div class="i0">Gold the mace, and Byng his chaplain;</div> - <div class="i0">Whereupon did Captain Gossett,</div> - <div class="i0">In his normal tights and ruffles,</div> - <div class="i0">"Tile" the door till prayers were over.</div> - <div class="i0">Thus all present fell to praying,</div> - <div class="i0">Let us hope they prayed in earnest,</div> - <div class="i0">For delivery from envy,</div> - <div class="i0">Spite and malice and Kenealy.</div> - <div class="i0">Prayed for sense (God knows most want it),</div> - <div class="i0">Prayed for very frequent count-outs,</div> - <div class="i0">And for early dissolution.</div> - <div class="i15">[<em>Left Praying.</em></div> - <div class="i1">Now the mace is on the table</div> - <div class="i0">From his oaken throne the Speaker,</div> - <div class="i0">In his hand the Queen's speech holding,</div> - <div class="i0">Tries to read it, but half through it,</div> - <div class="i0">Something ails him, and he falters.</div> - <div class="i0">May we not trace his emotion</div> - <div class="i0">To the thought of what's before him?</div> - <div class="i0">How can he fail to remember</div> - <div class="i0">That the bores have re-assembled.</div> - <div class="i0">Stronger both in lung and purpose,</div> - <div class="i0">That when they left town last August.</div> - <div class="i0">And he knows he can't escape them,</div> - <div class="i0">That his eye perforce will caught be</div> - <div class="i0">By the Lewises and Lawsons,</div> - <div class="i0">By the Biggars and the Whalleys,</div> - <div class="i0">By the Newdegates and Parnells,</div> - <div class="i0">This is why his voice completely</div> - <div class="i0">Fails him and prevents his reading,</div> - <div class="i0">This is why his accents die out,</div> - <div class="i0">Like the last song of Pu-kee-wis,</div> - <div class="i0">Of the dying swan, Pu-kee-wis;</div> - <div class="i0">This is why they have to bring him</div> - <div class="i0">Of the water from his cistern</div> - <div class="i0">(Let us hope it first was filtered),</div> - <div class="i0">Which he drinks, and so recovers;</div> - <div class="i0">Drinks, and so concludes his reading.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Then, since there is no amendment,</div> - <div class="i0">One would think that when the mover</div> - <div class="i0">And the seconder had spoken</div> - <div class="i0">That the House would straightway scatter;</div> - <div class="i0">Little do they know, who think so,</div> - <div class="i0">Of the ways of Mr. Gladstone!</div> - <div class="i0">Little do they understand him,</div> - <div class="i0">If they think he can keep silence</div> - <div class="i0">When the Eastern question's talked of!</div> - <div class="i0">Could they fancy Whalley speechless,</div> - <div class="i0">With the Jesuits on the <em>tapis?</em></div> - <div class="i0">Could they picture Doctor "Dewdrops"</div> - <div class="i0">Dumb upon the Magna Charta?</div> - <div class="i0">Or the Common Serjeant henceforth</div> - <div class="i0">Dropping his deceased wife's sister?</div> - <div class="i0">Could they e'en think Holker clever?</div> - <div class="i0">Couple modesty and Jenkins?</div> - <div class="i0">Take from Lewis his white waistcoats,</div> - <div class="i0">Or from Plimsoll his last hobby?</div> - <div class="i0">Could they do all this? it's doubtful,</div> - <div class="i0">Even then, if Mr. Gladstone</div> - <div class="i0">Could be really kept from speaking.</div> - <div class="i0">When the Eastern question's mentioned,</div> - <div class="i0">He is always running over</div> - <div class="i0">With a tide of verbal fulness;</div> - <div class="i0">At a moment's notice ready</div> - <div class="i0">To break through his lips or flow out</div> - <div class="i0">In a pamphlet from his study,</div> - <div class="i0">Just as when the cat, Me-aw-nee,</div> - <div class="i0">Sees a mouse she pounces on it;</div> - <div class="i0">As the buffalo, Shu-shu-kah,</div> - <div class="i0">At the sight of crimson's maddened;</div> - <div class="i0">As the sturgeon, Minhe-nah-ma,</div> - <div class="i0">Meets a mackerel, but to bolt it,</div> - <div class="i0">As the 'possum, Pau-ku-kee-wis,</div> - <div class="i0">When it finds a gum-tree, climbs it,</div> - <div class="i0">So does this M.P. for Greenwich</div> - <div class="i0">Seize upon the Eastern question,</div> - <div class="i0">Be it in, or out of, season,</div> - <div class="i0">Be it <em>apropos</em> or useless,</div> - <div class="i0">Be it positively dangerous</div> - <div class="i0">To allude to it in public;</div> - <div class="i0">So on Thursday seized he on it,</div> - <div class="i0">Even though he knew the time was</div> - <div class="i0">Not yet come to talk upon it,</div> - <div class="i0">Poured his stream of words upon it,</div> - <div class="i0">Swamped it with his fluent diction;</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> - <div class="i0">And when he had talked a column,</div> - <div class="i0">Was informed by Gathorne Hardy,</div> - <div class="i0">That the questions he'd propounded</div> - <div class="i0">Would be answered in the blue-books;</div> - <div class="i0">That the information asked for</div> - <div class="i0">Would be printed in the blue-books;</div> - <div class="i0">That, in short, his speech was useless—</div> - <div class="i0"><em>Verba et præterea nihil</em>.</div> - <div class="i0">Whereupon the Speaker vanished,</div> - <div class="i0">And the House broke up its sitting.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Truth</em>, February 15, 1877.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> P<span class="smcapa">AHTAHQUAHONG</span>.</h3> - -<p>"The R<span class="smcapa">EV.</span> H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span> P<span class="smcapa">AHTAHQUAHONG</span> C<span class="smcapa">HASE</span>, hereditary -Chief of the Ojibway tribe, President of the Grand Council -of Indians, and missionary of the Colonial and Continental -Church Society at Muncey Town, Ontario, Canada, has just -arrived in England, on a short visit."—<em>The Standard.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">S<span class="smcapa">TRAIGHT</span> across the Big-Sea-Water,</div> - <div class="i0">From the Portals of the Sunset,</div> - <div class="i0">From the prairies of the Red Men,</div> - <div class="i0">Where Suggema, the mosquito.</div> - <div class="i0">Makes the aggravated hunter</div> - <div class="i0">Scratch himself with awful language;</div> - <div class="i0">From the land of Hiawatha,</div> - <div class="i0">Land of wigwams, and of wampum,</div> - <div class="i0">Land of tomahawks and scalping,</div> - <div class="i0">(See the works of J. F. C<span class="smcapa">OOPER</span>),</div> - <div class="i0">Comes the mighty P<span class="smcapa">AHTAHQUAHONG</span>,</div> - <div class="i0">Comes the Chief of the Obijways.</div> - <div class="i1">Wot ye well, we'll give him welcome,</div> - <div class="i0">After manner of the Pale Face,</div> - <div class="i0">Show him all the old world's wonders,</div> - <div class="i0">Griffins in the public highways,</div> - <div class="i0">Gormandising corporations,</div> - <div class="i0">And the Market of Mud-Salad.</div> - <div class="i0">Show him, too, the dingy Palace,</div> - <div class="i0">And the House of Talkee-Talkee;</div> - <div class="i0">Where the Jossakeeds—the prophets—</div> - <div class="i0">And the Chieftains raise their voices.</div> - <div class="i0">Like Iagoo the great boaster,</div> - <div class="i0">With immeasurable gabble,</div> - <div class="i0">Talking much and doing little,</div> - <div class="i0">Till one wishes they could vanish</div> - <div class="i0">To the kingdom of Ponemah—</div> - <div class="i0">To the Land of the Hereafter!</div> - <div class="i1">We will show him all the glories</div> - <div class="i0">Of this land of shams and swindles,</div> - <div class="i0">Land of much adulteration,</div> - <div class="i0">Dusting tea and sanding sugar,</div> - <div class="i0">And of goods not up to sample;</div> - <div class="i0">Till disgusted P<span class="smcapa">AHTAHQUAHONG</span>,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the Chief of the Obijways,</div> - <div class="i0">President of Indian Council,</div> - <div class="i0">Missionary swell, and so forth,</div> - <div class="i0">Cries, "Oh, let me leave this England,</div> - <div class="i0">Land of Bumbledom and Beadles,</div> - <div class="i0">Of a thousand Boards and Vestries;</div> - <div class="i0"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Le'">Let</ins> me cross the Big-Sea-Water,</div> - <div class="i0">With Keewaydin—with the Home Wind,</div> - <div class="i0">And go back to the Ojibways!"</div> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, March 12, 1881.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>A <em>jeu d'esprit</em> somewhat in the nature of <em>The -Rejected Addresses</em> has recently been published -by Mr. George Dryden, of Lothian Street, Edinburgh. -It is entitled "<em>Rejected Tercentenary -Songs</em>, with the comments of the Committee -appended." Edited by Rolus Ray.</p> - -<p>It will be remembered that the Edinburgh -University has just been celebrating its Tercentenary, -and the contents of this amusing -little sixpenny pamphlet consist of the Poems -supposed to have been sent in, by matriculated -students of the University, in competition for a -prize of Ten Guineas, offered by the Tercentenary -Committee for the best song in honour -of the occasion.</p> - -<p>It contains numerous Latin and Macaronic -verses, a long parody of Walt Whitman, one of -Gilbert, and two of Longfellow, which I venture -to quote. The first is incomplete:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I stood in the quad at midnight,</div> - <div class="i0">As the bells were tolling the hour;</div> - <div class="i0">And the moon shone o'er the city,</div> - <div class="i0">Behind the Tron Kirk tower."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Among the black stone gables</div> - <div class="i0">The ghostly shadows lay;</div> - <div class="i0">And the moonbeams from the rising moon,</div> - <div class="i0">Falling, made them creep away."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"With weary brain and mind opprest,</div> - <div class="i0">I stood in the quad and pondered—"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here it breaks off abruptly; the other is a -very fair parody of the <em>Song of Hiawatha</em>, -although, of course, some of the allusions are -only of local interest. The poem is entitled—</p> - - -<h3>P<span class="smcapa">IAMATER.</span></h3> - -<p class="center"><em>By Alfred Longcove.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Should you ask of what I'm writing,</div> - <div class="i0">With the scented smoke of segars</div> - <div class="i0">Curling around my weary head,</div> - <div class="i0">With the odours of the class-rooms,</div> - <div class="i0">And its wild reverberations</div> - <div class="i0">Of the many interruptions</div> - <div class="i0">Of its bands of many students,</div> - <div class="i0">Rankling in my ears and nostrils?</div> - <div class="i0">Why my head I scratch so often?</div> - <div class="i0">Why I ask my muse to aid me</div> - <div class="i0">With her bright poetic fire?</div> - <div class="i0">Why I burn the gas at midnight?</div> - <div class="i0">Why I have so many books—</div> - <div class="i0">Poetry books on prosy subjects,</div> - <div class="i0">Books of songs by Burns and Moore,</div> - <div class="i0">Ponderous books for words referring,</div> - <div class="i0">Webster's Unabridged and Walker's</div> - <div class="i0">Poet's Rhyming Dictionary—</div> - <div class="i0">Strewed around me on the table?</div> - <div class="i0">I should answer, I should tell you,</div> - <div class="i0">"'Tis because I am composing</div> - <div class="i0">A natal song to Alma Mater."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis thy year, O Alma Mater,</div> - <div class="i0">Of thy great Tercentenary.</div> - <div class="i0">Time, thy years three hundred measures</div> - <div class="i0">With his glass; the mighty Hour-glass</div> - <div class="i0">Marks thy seconds, passing quickly,</div> - <div class="i0">With grains of sand for e'er falling</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Through its glassy neck so slender,</div> - <div class="i0">Let us sing to her, O students,</div> - <div class="i0">A pæan song of natal greetings,</div> - <div class="i0">Let us spread our banquet-tables</div> - <div class="i0">In the halls of Edina's town.</div> - <div class="i0">Let us drain to her good welfare</div> - <div class="i0">Many bottles filled with good wine</div> - <div class="i0">From the vineyard of the Loire,</div> - <div class="i0">From the Spanish town of Xeres,</div> - <div class="i0">From the town of great Oporto,</div> - <div class="i0">From the country of the Deutchers,</div> - <div class="i0">From the flow'ry land of Champagne;</div> - <div class="i0">Let us drain the pewter tankards,</div> - <div class="i0">Filled with Bass's bittery beer</div> - <div class="i0">And with Dublin's triple X stout;</div> - <div class="i0">Let us drain our glassy goblets,</div> - <div class="i0">Filled with the wine of Gooseberry,</div> - <div class="i0">Filled with clarets made in London,</div> - <div class="i0">And with other imitations;</div> - <div class="i0">Let us brew the Festive Toddy</div> - <div class="i0">From the whisky, great Tanglefeet,</div> - <div class="i0">On that morn—her natal morning!</div> - <div class="i0">Sons and daughters of old Scotland,</div> - <div class="i0">Land of Oatcakes and of Whisky,</div> - <div class="i0">Don your costumes made for Sunday;</div> - <div class="i0">O ye students of Edina,</div> - <div class="i0">Put your "go-to-meetings" on you;</div> - <div class="i0">O ye Dons, that festal morning,</div> - <div class="i0">Don ye your gowns and mortar boards;</div> - <div class="i0">Let the Billirubin warble</div> - <div class="i0">One of his impromptu ditties,</div> - <div class="i0">Physiologic songs of praise—</div> - <div class="i0">Sing the praise of Alma Mater;</div> - <div class="i0">Let the great, her mighty surgeon,</div> - <div class="i0">Throw his dazzling, lustrous sheen</div> - <div class="i0">Of his intellect most massive,</div> - <div class="i0">In a speech of his own making,</div> - <div class="i0">Stock full of jokes and anecdotes—</div> - <div class="i0">Speak the praise of Alma Mater;</div> - <div class="i0">Let them all, her swell Professors,</div> - <div class="i0">Puff her up above the skies.</div> - <div class="i0">From the Gardens to the Meadows,</div> - <div class="i0">From the Loch—great Duddingston—</div> - <div class="i0">To the station of Haymarket,</div> - <div class="i0">From the Place of the Lunatics</div> - <div class="i0">To the town of Portobello—</div> - <div class="i0">Where the many donkey-riders</div> - <div class="i0">Ride along its dirty sands;</div> - <div class="i0">Where the fellows go on Sunday</div> - <div class="i0">For a walk, and drink the <em>Ozone</em></div> - <div class="i0">Wafted round promiscuously;</div> - <div class="i0">Where they go to meet their damsels,</div> - <div class="i0">And walk with them along the strand—</div> - <div class="i0">From Merchiston to Warriston,</div> - <div class="i0">Let merry songs of praises ring</div> - <div class="i0">On that day, her happy birthday.</div> - <div class="i0">Now join with me, ye students all,</div> - <div class="i0">Wish her now, your Alma Mater,</div> - <div class="i0">Greatest wealth and prosperity.</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Alma Mater,</div> - <div class="i0">School above schools upon this earth!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, thou great Alchemist!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Verdant Pasture!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Parenchyma!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, thou Grecian Pet!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the great Kail Runter!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Billirubin!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Wells of Water!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the Kitchen Surgeon!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, thou Man of Physic!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, thou Just Lawgiver!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the great Drug Speaker!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, her Story-teller!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the great Dissector!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Damsonjamer!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, her Organ Grinder!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, thou Fossilfeller!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Afterglower!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the Celtic Chairer!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Wandering Jew!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the Magna Charta!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O great Kirkpaddy!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, Cephalic Mewer!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, no Small Pertater!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the great Schoolboarder!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, her Comet-gazer!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the Soda-fountain!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, thou Cubic Crystal!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O Science Gossip!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the Engine-Driver!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, thou great Darwiner!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, the Eye-restorer!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, O great Lunatic!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to thee, her long Gatekeeper!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to ye, her famous Children!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to ye, O Students' Council!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to ye, her many Students!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to me, her Song Composer!</div> - <div class="i0">Hail to ye, all her Children, Friends,</div> - <div class="i0">And Near Relations, on that day!</div> - <div class="i0">All hail to our Alma Mater</div> - <div class="i0">On her natal morn be given!!!<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The author of <em>The Dagonet Ballads</em> has produced -so many pathetic poems, descriptive of -the terrible miseries of our London poor, that -one is rather apt to overlook the humorous -poetry proceeding from the same pen. But, like -all true masters of pathos, this poet of the people -has the power to summon up smiles through -our tears. It was well said of Tom Hood "that -the blending of the grave with the gay which -pervaded his writings, makes it no easy task to -class his poems under the heads of 'serious' -and 'comic.'" This remark applies with equal -force to the poems of George R. Sims, and were -it possible to anticipate the verdict of posterity -we might expect to find the names of Hood -and Sims classed together; indeed, so far as -practical results are concerned, the philanthropical -efforts of the younger poet are likely -far to exceed anything that was achieved by the -author of <em>The Bridge of Sighs</em> and <em>The Song of the -Shirt</em>.</p> - -<p>But this is not the place to consider Mr. Sims' -position as a serious writer, although, indeed, -even the following poem has a moral:—</p> - - -<h3>A P<span class="smcapa">LUMBER.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>An Episode of a rapid Thaw.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> dirty snow was thawing fast,</div> - <div class="i1">As through the London streets there passed</div> - <div class="i1">A youth, who, mid snow, slush, and ice,</div> - <div class="i0">Exclaimed, "I don't care what's the price—</div> - <div class="i12">A Plumber!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> - <div class="i0">His brow looked mad, his eye beneath</div> - <div class="i1">Was fixed and fierce—he clenched his teeth,</div> - <div class="i1">While here and there a bell he rung,</div> - <div class="i0">But found not all the shops among</div> - <div class="i12">A Plumber.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He saw his home, he saw the light</div> - <div class="i1">Wall-paper sopped—a gruesome sight.</div> - <div class="i1">He saw his dining-room afloat,</div> - <div class="i0">He cried, "I'll give a fi' pun note—</div> - <div class="i12">A Plumber!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O stop the leak!" his wife had said;</div> - <div class="i1">"The ceiling's cracking overhead.</div> - <div class="i1">The roaring torrent's deep and wide"—</div> - <div class="i0">"I'll go and fetch," he had replied,</div> - <div class="i12">"A Plumber."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Pa ain't at home," the maiden said,</div> - <div class="i1">When to the plumber's house he sped.</div> - <div class="i1">He searched through London low and high,</div> - <div class="i0">But nowhere could he catch or spy</div> - <div class="i12">A Plumber.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Next morn, a Peeler on his round,</div> - <div class="i1">A mud-bespattered trav'ller found,</div> - <div class="i1">Who grasped the "Guide to Camden Town"</div> - <div class="i0">With hand of ice—the page turned down</div> - <div class="i12">At "Plumbers."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They brought a parson to his side,</div> - <div class="i1">He gently murmured ere he died—</div> - <div class="i1">"My house has floated out to sea,</div> - <div class="i0">I am not mad—it's not d. t.—</div> - <div class="i12">It's Plumbers."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This parody is to be found in a small volume -entitled <em>The Lifeboat and other Poems</em>, by George -R. Sims (John P. Fuller, Wine Office Court, -London, 1883).</p> - -<p>By the author's kind permission I am also -enabled to quote the very funny, although slightly -incoherent, remarks of—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">OETS ON THE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ARRIAGE</span> -<span class="smcapa">WITH A</span> D<span class="smcapa">ECEASED</span> W<span class="smcapa">IFE'S</span> S<span class="smcapa">ISTER</span> B<span class="smcapa">ILL</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">T</span> comes as a boon and a blessing to men</div> - <div class="i0">When your missus as was disappears from your ken.</div> - <div class="i17">A<span class="smcapa">NONYMOUS</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When from the wife you get a parting benison,</div> - <div class="i0">Her sister will console you—</div> - <div class="i15">A<span class="smcapa">LFRED</span> T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When weary, worn, and nigh distraught with grief,</div> - <div class="i0">You mourn Maria in your handkerchief,</div> - <div class="i0">Rush, rush to Aunty, and obtain relief.</div> - <div class="i10">A<span class="smcapa">N</span> F.S.A. <span class="smcapa">OF</span> O<span class="smcapa">VER</span> 100 Y<span class="smcapa">EARS</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Beneath the spreading chestnut tree</div> - <div class="i1">The village smithy stands—</div> - <div class="i0">With Mrs. Smith it's all U P,</div> - <div class="i1">She's gone to other lands.</div> - <div class="i0">But he goes on Sunday to the church,</div> - <div class="i1">And hears her sister's voice;</div> - <div class="i0">He leaves his scruples in the lurch,</div> - <div class="i1">And she makes his heart rejoice.</div> - <div class="i0">The morning sees his suit commenced,</div> - <div class="i1">The evening sees it done—</div> - <div class="i0">Next day the Parson ties the knot,</div> - <div class="i1">And Pa and Aunt are one.</div> - <div class="i15">L<span class="smcapa">ONGFELLOW</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O blood-bitten lip all aflame,</div> - <div class="i0">O Dolores and also Faustine,</div> - <div class="i0">O aunts of the world worried shame,</div> - <div class="i0">Lo your hair with its amorous sheen,</div> - <div class="i0">Meshes man in its tangles of gold;</div> - <div class="i0">O aunts of the tremulous thrill,</div> - <div class="i0">We are pining—we long to enfold</div> - <div class="i0">The Deceased Wife's Fair Relative Bill.</div> - <div class="i15">S<span class="smcapa">WINBURNE</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Although the above lines were written several -years ago, they may be appropriately quoted -now that the House of Commons has once -again carried, and by a large majority, a resolution -in favour of the repeal of the law prohibiting -marriage with a deceased wife's sister.</p> - -<p>(In a division in the House of Commons on -May 6, 1884, Mr. Broadhurst's motion was -carried by 238 to 127, or a majority of 111 in -favour of the repeal.)</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>D<span class="smcapa">YSPEPSIA.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> dinner hour had come at last,</div> - <div class="i0">The evening sun was sinking fast;</div> - <div class="i0">I sat me down in sorry mood,</div> - <div class="i0">And darkly look'd upon the food.</div> - <div class="i10">Dyspepsia!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">My happy comrades' bright eyes beam'd,</div> - <div class="i0">And o'er the steaming <em>potage</em> gleam'd;</div> - <div class="i0">Alas! not mine to find relief</div> - <div class="i0">In whitebait's flavour bright and brief.</div> - <div class="i10">Dyspepsia!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Try not the duck," my conscience said;</div> - <div class="i0">'Twill lie upon your chest like lead;</div> - <div class="i0">Delusion all, that bird so fair;</div> - <div class="i0">The sage and onions are a snare.</div> - <div class="i10">Dyspepsia!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh, taste!" our hostess cried, and press'd</div> - <div class="i0">A portion of a chicken's breast;</div> - <div class="i0">I view'd the fowl with longing eye,</div> - <div class="i0">Then answer'd sadly, with a sigh,</div> - <div class="i10">Dyspepsia!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I mark'd with fix'd and stony glare</div> - <div class="i0">A brace of pheasants and a hare;</div> - <div class="i0">A tear stood in my bilious eye,</div> - <div class="i0">When helping friends to pigeon-pie.</div> - <div class="i10">Dyspepsia!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware the celery, if you please;</div> - <div class="i0">Beware the awful Stilton cheese."</div> - <div class="i0">This was the doctor's last good-night;</div> - <div class="i0">I answered feebly, turning white,</div> - <div class="i10">"Dyspepsia!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The scarcely-tasted dinner done,</div> - <div class="i0">Old Port and walnuts next came on;</div> - <div class="i0">I kept my mouth all closely shut;</div> - <div class="i0">But how I long'd for just one nut!</div> - <div class="i10">Dyspepsia!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Some nuts I had, at early day,</div> - <div class="i0">(Morn was just breaking cold and grey),</div> - <div class="i0">I, starting up, with loud ha! ha!</div> - <div class="i0">Felt falling, like a falling star.</div> - <div class="i10">Dyspepsia!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Mocking Bird</em>, by Frederick Field (John Van Voorst, -London, 1868.)</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> F<span class="smcapa">ATE OF THE</span> W<span class="smcapa">INTER</span> R<span class="smcapa">IDER</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>By a young lady aged fourteen</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through a lonely village passed</div> - <div class="i0">A youth, who rode 'mid snow and ice</div> - <div class="i0">A two-wheeled thing of strange device—</div> - <div class="i9">A Bicycle.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His brow was sad, his eye below</div> - <div class="i0">Flashed like his bicycle's steel glow,</div> - <div class="i0">While like a silver clarion rung</div> - <div class="i0">A bell, which on the handle hung—</div> - <div class="i9">Of the Bicycle.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In cosy sheds he saw the light</div> - <div class="i0">Of bicycles well cleaned and bright;</div> - <div class="i0">Along the road deep ruts had grown,</div> - <div class="i0">And from his lips escaped a moan—</div> - <div class="i9">"My Bicycle!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Try not that road," the old man said,</div> - <div class="i0">"'Tis full of holes, you'll break your head;</div> - <div class="i0">The farm pond, too, is deep and wide;"</div> - <div class="i0">But loud the bicyclist replied,</div> - <div class="i9">"Rot! Bicycle!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware the oak-tree's withered arm,</div> - <div class="i0">Beware the holes, they'll do you harm!"</div> - <div class="i0">This was the peasant's last good-night;</div> - <div class="i0">A voice replied, "Don't fear, all right—</div> - <div class="i9">Vive Bicycles!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At break of day, as in a brook</div> - <div class="i0">A passenger did chance to look,</div> - <div class="i0">He started back, what saw he there?</div> - <div class="i0">His voice cried through the startled air,</div> - <div class="i9">"A Bicycle!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A bicyclist, upon the ground,</div> - <div class="i0">Half buried in the dirt, was found</div> - <div class="i0">Still hugging, in his arms of ice,</div> - <div class="i0">That two-wheeled thing of strange device,</div> - <div class="i9">The Bicycle.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There in the twilight cold and grey,</div> - <div class="i0">Helpless, but struggling, he lay,</div> - <div class="i0">While, now no longer bright and fair,</div> - <div class="i0">His bicycle lay broken there—</div> - <div class="i9">Poor Bicycle!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Whizz;</em> the Christmas number of <em>The Bicycling Times</em>, -1880.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ETTLER'S VERSION OF</span> E<span class="smcapa">XCELSIOR</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were a coming down swift,</div> - <div class="i12">Upidee, Upida.</div> - <div class="i0">The snow was heapin' up, drift on drift,</div> - <div class="i12">Upidee, Upida.</div> - <div class="i0">Through a Yankee village a youth did go,</div> - <div class="i0">Carrying a flag with this motto—</div> - <div class="i12">"Upidee, Upida."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">On his high forehead curled copious hair,</div> - <div class="i0">He'd a Roman nose, and complexion fair,</div> - <div class="i0">A bright blue eye, with an auburn lash,</div> - <div class="i0">And he ever kep' a shoutin' thro' his moustache,</div> - <div class="i12">Upidee, Upida!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">About half-past nine, as he kep' gettin' upper</div> - <div class="i0">He saw a lot of families a sitting down to supper;</div> - <div class="i0">He eyed those slippery rocks, he eyed 'em very keen</div> - <div class="i0">And he fled as he cried, and he cried as he was fleein'—</div> - <div class="i12">"Upidee, Upida."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh take care," cried an old man, "stop;</div> - <div class="i0">It's blowing gales up there on top;</div> - <div class="i0">You'll be blown right off the other side,"</div> - <div class="i0">But the humorous stranger still replied,</div> - <div class="i12">"Upidee, Upida."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Beware the branch of the sycamore tree,</div> - <div class="i0">And rolling stones, if any you see;"</div> - <div class="i0">Just then the farmer went to bed,</div> - <div class="i0">And a singular voice replied overhead,</div> - <div class="i12">"Upidee, Upida."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh, stay!" the maiden said, "and rest,</div> - <div class="i0">Your weary head upon this breast."</div> - <div class="i0">On his Roman nose a tear-drop come,</div> - <div class="i0">As he ever kep' a shoutin' as he upward clum,</div> - <div class="i12">"Upidee, Upida!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">About a quarter to six in the next forenoon</div> - <div class="i0">A man accidentally going up too soon</div> - <div class="i0">Heard repeated above him, as much as twice,</div> - <div class="i0">Those very same words, in a very weak voice,</div> - <div class="i12">"Upidee, Upida."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The very same man about a quarter to seven</div> - <div class="i0">(He was slow a-gettin' up, the road being uneven),</div> - <div class="i0">Found buried up there, among the snow and ice,</div> - <div class="i0">That youth with the banner with the strange device,</div> - <div class="i12">"Upidee, Upida."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He was dead, defunct, beyond any doubt,</div> - <div class="i0">The lamp of his life was quite gone out,</div> - <div class="i0">On the dreary hill-side the youth was a layin',</div> - <div class="i0">There was no more use for him to be sayin',</div> - <div class="i12">"Upidee, Upida!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The shades of night were falling fast,</div> - <div class="i0">As through the streets of London passed</div> - <div class="i0">A party with a packet nice,</div> - <div class="i0">On which was seen the strange device—</div> - <div class="i13"><em>Exitium</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Hi, stay!" the Bobby cried, "you man."</div> - <div class="i0">Says he, "You'll catch me if you can."</div> - <div class="i0">Three rapid strides, and he was gone;</div> - <div class="i0">From Bobby's lips escaped a groan—</div> - <div class="i13"><em>Exitium</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At break of day, as in a fright,</div> - <div class="i0">The Bobbies came from left and right,</div> - <div class="i0">Each murmured, starting in a scare;</div> - <div class="i0">A crash resounded through the air—</div> - <div class="i13"><em>Exitium</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There in the twilight cold and grey—</div> - <div class="i0">In ruins stately buildings lay,</div> - <div class="i0">And o'er the land the news is spread:</div> - <div class="i0">"Another Fenian escapade!"</div> - <div class="i13"><em>Exitium</em>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Scraps</em>, 14 May, 1884.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Use not the coke, the old man said,</div> - <div class="i0">The stove must be by small coal fed.</div> - <div class="i0">The heap of slack is deep and wide,</div> - <div class="i0">But still their saucy voices cried,</div> - <div class="i9">Don't bother us!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><em>Printer's Devil</em>, Northampton, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>W<span class="smcapa">HAT IS IN AN</span> A<span class="smcapa">IM</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>After "The Bridge."</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I went to bed at eleven,</div> - <div class="i1">At the sign of the Azure Boar,</div> - <div class="i0">And I knew that my room was seven,</div> - <div class="i1">For I'd seen it upon the door.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With a flickering, flaring candle,</div> - <div class="i1">That glimmered like sickly Hope,</div> - <div class="i0">I found out my way to the handle,</div> - <div class="i1">And I flung the portal ope,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When a gentleman—not to <em>my</em> thinking—</div> - <div class="i1">Was placed in the door upright;</div> - <div class="i0">It was evident he had been drinking,</div> - <div class="i1">For he hiccuped out in the night;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And he spoke in a language mighty,</div> - <div class="i1">That rang through the chill and gloom;</div> - <div class="i0">And he asked me, "Highty-tighty,"</div> - <div class="i1">"What the deuce do you do in my room?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And never of warning mildly</div> - <div class="i1">A word had the stranger said,</div> - <div class="i0">Ere he took up a bootjack wildly,</div> - <div class="i1">And hurled it at my head;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And down with a noise and clatter</div> - <div class="i1">It fell o'er the winding stair,</div> - <div class="i0">And some one cried, "What's the matter?"</div> - <div class="i1">And I said, "I am not aware!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And whenever I feel dyspeptic,</div> - <div class="i1">And whenever my soul's unwell,</div> - <div class="i0">And whenever I've got lumbago,</div> - <div class="i1">And whenever my eyelids swell,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I see the man with the bootjack,</div> - <div class="i1">He swears as he used to swear,</div> - <div class="i0">And I hear the implement falling</div> - <div class="i1">And clattering down the stair;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And I say to myself at twilight,</div> - <div class="i1">A vindictive person's a brute;</div> - <div class="i0">I'd rather have been on the skylight</div> - <div class="i1">Than down at the staircase foot!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For whatever evil you suffer,</div> - <div class="i1">The words of the sage rehearse,</div> - <div class="i0">"Though things may be bad, you duffer,</div> - <div class="i1">They might be a good deal worse."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Story of a Railway Tavern</em>, by Professor Long, -Fellow of the Learned Societies, contained in <em>Vere Vereker's -Vengeance</em>, by Thomas Hood, 1865.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Reference was made, on page 80, to Edmund -H. Yates's parody on <em>Evangeline</em>, it is to be -found in "Mirth and Metre," by F. E. Smedley -and E. H. Yates, 1855.</p> - -<p>It commences thus:—</p> - - -<h3>P<span class="smcapa">ICNIC-ALINE.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HESE</span> are the green woods of Cliefden. The glorious oaks and the chestnuts</div> - <div class="i0">All appertain to the Duke, whose residence stands in the distance—</div> - <div class="i0">Stands like a toyhouse of childhood, besprinkled all over with windows—</div> - <div class="i0">Stands like a pudding at Christmas, a white surface, dotted with black things.</div> - <div class="i0">Loud from the neighbouring river, the deep voiced clamorous bargée</div> - <div class="i0">Roars, and in accents opprobrious holloas to have the lock opened.</div> - <div class="i0">These are the green woods of Cliefden. But where are the people who in them</div> - <div class="i0">Laughed like a man when he lists to the breath-catching accents of Buckstone?</div> - <div class="i0">Where are the wondrous white waistcoats, the flimsy baréges and muslins,</div> - <div class="i0">Worn by the swells and the ladies who came here on pleasant excursions?</div> - <div class="i0">Gone are those light-hearted people, flirtations, perhaps love—even marriage,</div> - <div class="i0">All have had woeful effect since Mrs. Merillian's picnic;</div> - <div class="i0">And of that great merry-making, some bottles in tinfoil enveloped,</div> - <div class="i0">And a glove dropped by Jane Page, are the vestiges only remaining!</div> - <div class="i0">Ye who take pleasure in picnics, and dote on excursions aquatic,</div> - <div class="i0">Flying the smoke of the city, vexations and troubles of business,</div> - <div class="i0">List to a joyous tradition of one which was once held at Cliefden—</div> - <div class="i0">List to a tale of cold chicken, champagne, bitter beer, lobster salad!</div> - <div class="i3">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i15">E<span class="smcapa">DMUND</span> H. Y<span class="smcapa">ATES</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">OWN AND</span> G<span class="smcapa">OWN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">RIGHTLY</span> blazed up the fires through the long dark days of November,</div> - <div class="i0">Glimmered the genial lamp in the wainscoted rooms of the College,</div> - <div class="i0">Brightest of all in the rooms of De Whyskers, "the talented drinker."</div> - <div class="i0">Thence came the festive song, and the clink of the bottles and glasses,</div> - <div class="i0">Thence came the chorus loud, abhorred of the Dean and the Fellows.</div> - <div class="i0">There sat De Whyskers the jolly, the drinker of curious liquors,</div> - <div class="i0">There sat De Jones, and De Jenkyns, stroke oar of the Boniface Torpid;</div> - <div class="i0">There too, De Brown, and De Smith, well known to the eyes of the Proctors,</div> - <div class="i0">Heedless of numberless ticks, and the schools, and a "plough" <em>in futuro</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">Sat by the ruddy-faced fire, and quaffed the bright vintage of Xeres.</div> - <div class="i0">Merrily out to the night through the fogs and the mist of November</div> - <div class="i0">Floated the breath of the weed through the fields of the dark Empyrean,</div> - <div class="i0">Rose the melodious sounds of the "dogs" which are known as "the jolly,"</div> - <div class="i0">"Slapping" and "banging" along through that noisy and meaningless ditty.</div> - <div class="i0">But silence! the welkin now rings (whatever the meaning of that is),</div> - <div class="i0">A rumour of battle is heard, and the wine and the weeds are deserted.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Out to the darkling High, where the cad and the commoner struggle,</div> - <div class="i0">Out to the noise, and the din, and the crowd of the unwashed mechanics,</div> - <div class="i0">Went forth De Whyskers the bold, brimfull of the valour of Holland,</div> - <div class="i0">Flashed both his eyes in the dark with a gleam that was quite meteoric,</div> - <div class="i0">As flashes the pheasant's tail when he hears the first gun in October.</div> - <div class="i0">Now with a yell and a spring the cads came up to the onset,</div> - <div class="i0">Cursing and swearing amain, and throwing their arms out like thunder.</div> - <div class="i0">Stopping before All Saints' the hideous work of Dean Aldrich,</div> - <div class="i0">Stopping De Whyskers made emphatic the sign for the battle,</div> - <div class="i0">Thereon he let fall a blow swift like an armourer's hammer,</div> - <div class="i0">Down on his face fell a cad as falls an oak on the mountains,</div> - <div class="i0">Forth from his nose came "the red" as oft in the vintage the dresser</div> - <div class="i0">Squeezes the blushing grape on the plains of Estremadura.</div> - <div class="i0">Now from the end of the High a rush of the cads overwhelming</div> - <div class="i0">Sweeps as the sea sweeps on in the long dark nights of the winter,</div> - <div class="i0">Howling as howl the wolves through the snow in the forests of Sweden;</div> - <div class="i0">Blow after blow is struck, as the flakes come down in the snowstorm.</div> - <div class="i0">Now from the Turl to the Broad, and St. Giles's, abode of the peaceful,</div> - <div class="i0">Even to Worcester the slow, or <em>Botany Bay</em>, as they call it,</div> - <div class="i0">Down by Trinity Gates, and Balliol beloved of the scholar,</div> - <div class="i0">Down by the temple of Tom, whence the Curfew rings in the gloaming</div> - <div class="i0">Thundered the fray till the rain came down on the scene as a damper.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3"><em>College Rhymes</em> (T. and G. Shrimpton, Oxford, 1865.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The great "Town and Gown" rows that used -to occur annually on the Fifth of November, -between the undergraduates and the townspeople, -have been gradually dying out, but the -memory of them still lingers in many old College -Rhymes and traditions. They are most vividly -described in <em>Verdant Green, an Oxford Freshman</em>, -a light-hearted clever little work, by the Rev. E. -Bradley, Rector of Lenton, better known under -his pseudonym of Cuthbert Bede. Mr. Bradley, -although himself a Cambridge man, was intimately -acquainted with Oxford.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A V<span class="smcapa">OICE FROM THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">AR</span> W<span class="smcapa">EST</span>,</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Hailing the Centenary Birthday of Burns</em>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Happy thy name, O B<span class="smcapa">URNS</span>! for burns, in thy native Doric,</div> - <div class="i0">Meaneth the free bright streams, exhaustless, pellucid, and sparkling,</div> - <div class="i0">Mountain-born, wild and erratic, kissing the flow'rets in passing,</div> - <div class="i0">Type of thy verse and thyself—loving and musical ever;</div> - <div class="i0">And the streams by thy verse made immortal are known by our giant rivers,</div> - <div class="i0">Where the emigrants sing them to soothe the yearnings for home in their bosoms,</div> - <div class="i0">And the Coila and gentle Doon, by the song of the Celtic wanderer,</div> - <div class="i0">Are known to the whispering reeds that border the great Mississippi.</div> - <div class="i0">Thou wert the lad for the lasses! lasses the same are as misses;</div> - <div class="i0">And here we have misses had pleased you—Missouri and the Mississippi.</div> - <div class="i0">And "green grow the rushes" beside them—as thy evergreen chorus would have them.</div> - <div class="i0">Thou wert the champion of freedom!—Thou didst rejoice in our glory!</div> - <div class="i0">When we at Bunker's Hill no bunkum display'd, but true courage!</div> - <div class="i0">Jubilant thou wert in our Declaration of Independence!</div> - <div class="i0">More a Republican thou than a chain-hugging bow-and-scrape Royalist!</div> - <div class="i0">Even the Stars and the Stripes seem appointed the flag of thy destiny;—</div> - <div class="i0">The stars are the types of thy glory, the stripes thou didst get from Misfortune.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Rival Rhymes, in honour of Burns</em>. Edited by Ben -Trovato (Routledge, Warnes & Routledge. London, 1859.)</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>There are several excellent parodies in <em>Lays -of the Saintly</em>, amongst them the following, -which is given here as it is also in the style of -Longfellow's <em>Evangeline:</em>—</p> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ISTER</span> B<span class="smcapa">EATRICE</span> (<span class="smcapa">A.D.</span> uncertain).</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HIS</span> is the metre Columbian. The soft-flowing trochees and dactyls,</div> - <div class="i0">Blended with fragments spondaic, and here and there an iambus,</div> - <div class="i0">Syllables often sixteen, or more or less, as it happens,</div> - <div class="i0">Difficult always to scan, and depending greatly on accent,</div> - <div class="i0">Being a close imitation, in English, of Latin hexameters—</div> - <div class="i0">Fluent in sound, and avoiding the stiffness of commoner blank verse,</div> - <div class="i0">Having the grandeur and flow of America's mountains and rivers,</div> - <div class="i0">Such as no bard could achieve in a mean little island like England;</div> - <div class="i0">Oft, at the end of a line, the sentence dividing abruptly</div> - <div class="i0">Breaks, and in accents mellifluous follows the thoughts of the author.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the old miracle days, in Rome the abode of the saintly,</div> - <div class="i0">To and fro in a room of her sacred conventual dwelling,</div> - <div class="i0">Clad in garments of serge, with a veil in the style of her Order,</div> - <div class="i0">Mass-book and rosary too, with a bunch of keys at her girdle,</div> - <div class="i0">Walk'd, with a pensive air, Beatrice the Carmelite sister.</div> - <div class="i0">Fair of aspect was she, but a trifle vivacious and worldly,</div> - <div class="i0">And not altogether cut out for a life of devout contemplation.</div> - <div class="i0">More of freedom already had she than the rest of the sisters,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> - <div class="i0">For hers was the duty to ope the gates of the convent, and take in</div> - <div class="i0">Messages, parcels, <em>et cetera</em>, from those who came to the wicket.</div> - <div class="i0">Ever and often she paused to gaze on the face of Our Lady,</div> - <div class="i0">Limn'd in a picture above by some old pre-Raphaelite Master;</div> - <div class="i0">Then would she say to herself (because there was none else to talk to),</div> - <div class="i0">"Why should I thus be immured, when people outside are enjoying</div> - <div class="i0">Thousands of sights and scenes, while I'm not allowed to behold them,</div> - <div class="i0">Thousands of joys and of changes, while I am joyless and changeless?</div> - <div class="i0">No, I can bear it no longer. I'll hasten away from the Convent:</div> - <div class="i0">Now is the time, for all's quiet; there's no one to see or to catch me."</div> - <div class="i0">So resolving at length, she took off her habit monastic,</div> - <div class="i0">And promptly array'd herself in smuggled secular garments;</div> - <div class="i0">Then on the kneeling-desk she laid down the keys, in a safeplace,</div> - <div class="i0">Where some one or other, or somebody else, would certainly find them.</div> - <div class="i0">"Take thou charge of these keys, blest Mother," then murmured Beatrice,</div> - <div class="i0">"And guard all the nuns in this holy but insupportable building."</div> - <div class="i0">And as she spoke these words, the eyes of the picture were fasten'd</div> - <div class="i0">With mournful expression upon her, and tears could be seen on the canvas;</div> - <div class="i0">Little she heeded, however, her thoughts had played truant before her,</div> - <div class="i0">Then stole she out of the portal, and never once looking behind her,</div> - <div class="i0">Wrapp'd in an ample cloak, and further concealed by the darkness,</div> - <div class="i0">Out through the streets of the city Beatrice quickly skedaddled.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Out in the world went Beatrice, her cell was left dark and deserted;</div> - <div class="i0">Scarce had she gone, when lo! with wonderment be it related—</div> - <div class="i0">Down from her canvas and frame, there stepp'd the blessed Madonna,</div> - <div class="i0">Took up the keys and the raiment Beatrice had quitted, and wore them,</div> - <div class="i0">Also assuming the face and figure of her who was absent;</div> - <div class="i0">Became in appearance a nun, so that none could discover the difference.</div> - <div class="i0">Save that the sisters agreed that Beatrice the portress was growing</div> - <div class="i0">Better and better, as one who aspired to canonization;</div> - <div class="i0">Daily abounding in grace, a pattern to all in the convent;</div> - <div class="i0">Till it would not have surprised them to see a celestial halo</div> - <div class="i0">Gather around her head, and pinions spring from her shoulders,</div> - <div class="i0">That, when too good for this world, she might fly away to a better.</div> - <div class="i0">Her post was below her deserts, and so by promotion they made her</div> - <div class="i0">Mistress of all the novices seeking religious instruction.</div> - <div class="i0">Such was her great success in that tender and beautiful office,</div> - <div class="i0">Her pupils all bloomed into saints, and some of the very first water.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many a day had pass'd since Beatrice escaped from the convent,</div> - <div class="i0">Much had she seen of the world, and its wickedness greatly distress'd her;</div> - <div class="i0">Oft she repented her act, and long'd to return, yet she dared not;</div> - <div class="i0">Oft was determined to go, still she "stood on the order of going."</div> - <div class="i0">Thus it at last occurr'd that her convent's secular agent</div> - <div class="i0">Entered one day, in the house where the truant sister was staying,</div> - <div class="i0">But changed as she was in appearance, he did not know her from Adam;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst he in his clerical garb was to her a familiar figure.</div> - <div class="i0">"Now I shall learn," thought she, "what they say of my flight and my absence."</div> - <div class="i0">And so she eagerly asked of the nuns and of sister Beatrice,</div> - <div class="i0">As of a friend she had known when living near to the convent.</div> - <div class="i0">"Truly," the factor replied, "She is still the pride of our sisters,</div> - <div class="i0">Favourite too of the abbess, and worthy of all our affection.</div> - <div class="i0">Would there were more of her kind in <em>some</em> houses monastic I know of,"</div> - <div class="i0">Puzzled and rather distress'd, then answer'd the truant <em>religieuse</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">"She whom I speak of, alas! was less of a saint than a sinner,</div> - <div class="i0">She fled from the veil and the cell, so surely you speak of another?"</div> - <div class="i0">"Not in the least, my child," the secular agent responded;</div> - <div class="i0">"Sister Beatrice, the saint-like, did <em>not</em> run away from the cloister,</div> - <div class="i0">Mistress is she of the novices. Why should she go? Stuff and nonsense!"</div> - <div class="i0">"What can it mean?" thought Beatrice, "and who is my double and namesake?"</div> - <div class="i0">So when the agent was gone, resolved she would settle the question,</div> - <div class="i0">Off to the convent she went, and knocked at the portal familiar,</div> - <div class="i0">Ask'd for the sister Beatrice, was shown to the parlour and found a</div> - <div class="i0">Counterpart of herself, as she was in her days of seclusion.</div> - <div class="i0">Down on her knees went Beatrice—the why and the wherefore she knew not.</div> - <div class="i0">"Welcome, my daughter, again," said her double, the blessed Madonna;</div> - <div class="i0">"Now I restore you your keys, your robe, and your other belongings,</div> - <div class="i0">Adding the excellent name and promotion I've won in your likeness;</div> - <div class="i0">Be you a nun as before, but more pious; farewell, take my blessing."</div> - <div class="i0">Speaking, she melted away in the holy pre-Raphaelite picture.</div> - <div class="i0">Again was Beatrice "herself," like Richard the third, <em>à la</em> Shakespeare,</div> - <div class="i0">Growing in grace from that day, and winning the glory of Saintship;</div> - <div class="i0">While each of the pupils she taught, went to heaven as surely as <em>she</em> did.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Such is the metre Columbian, but where is the bard who devised it?</div> - <div class="i0">Tenderest he of the poets who wrote in the tongue of (New) England,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Where the minstrel who sang of "Evangeline," also "Miles Standish?"</div> - <div class="i0">Alas! he will never again pour forth his effusions pathetic,</div> - <div class="i0">But his name and his fame endure, and this characteristic measure</div> - <div class="i0">In honour of him I adopt, without any thought of burlesquing.</div> - <div class="i0">Thus on the ear its cadence, like sounds from the labouring ocean,</div> - <div class="i0">Breaks, and in accents mellifluous follows the thoughts of the author.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Lays of the Saintly</em>, by Walter Parke (Vizetelly & Co.), -London, 1882.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - - -<h2><a name="CHARLES_WOLFE" id="CHARLES_WOLFE"></a>Charles Wolfe.</h2> - -<p>The Reverend Charles Wolfe, who was born -in Dublin in 1791, has earned literary immortality -by one short poem, and that copied with -considerable closeness from a prose account of -the incident to which it refers. Reading in the -<em>Edinburgh Annual Register</em> a description of the -death and burial of Sir John Moore, the young -poet turned it into verse with such sublime -pathos, such taste and skill, that his poem has -obtained imperishable fame in our literature.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wolfe also produced a few other poems -of unquestionable grace and pathos, but nothing -approaching the beauty of his immortal ode. -He was, for a time, curate of Ballyclog, in -Tyrone, and afterwards of Donoughmore. His -arduous duties in a large, wild, and very scattered -parish left him little leisure to cultivate the -muses, and soon told on his delicate constitution. -He died of consumption on 21st February, -1823, at the early age of 32, and thus the assertion -of his detractors that he produced nothing -else of sufficient merit to show that he could -have written the ode in question, may be easily -met by the two pleas—firstly, that he had other -duties to perform; and, secondly, that his career -was too brief to admit of many, or great, performances.</p> - -<p>The battle of Corunna was fought on -January 16, 1809, by the British army, about -15,000 strong, under Sir John Moore, against a -force of about 20,000 Frenchmen.</p> - -<p>The British troops had just safely accomplished -a retreat to the coast in the face of a superior -force, and were on the point of embarking, -when the French attacked; the enemy was -repulsed, but the British loss was very great, -and Sir John Moore, who was struck on the left -shoulder by a cannon ball, died, much lamented -by his troops. His body was removed at midnight -to the citadel of Corunna, and a grave was -dug for him on the ramparts by a party of the -9th Regiment. No coffin could be procured, -and the officers of his staff wrapped the body, -dressed as it was, in a military cloak and -blankets. The interment was hastened, for -firing was heard, and the officers feared that if -a serious attack were made, they should be -ordered away, and not allowed to pay him their -last duty. The embarkation of the troops took -place next day, under the command of Sir -David Baird, who had also been wounded in the -fight.</p> - -<p>The following is what Lord Byron correctly -termed, "The most perfect Ode in the -language":—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> M<span class="smcapa">OORE</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>'The following lines were written by a Student of Trinity -College, on reading the affecting account of the Burial of -Sir John Moore, in the <em>Edinburgh Annual Register</em>':—</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,</div> - <div class="i1">As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot</div> - <div class="i1">O'er the grave where our hero we buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We buried him darkly at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">The sods with our bayonets turning.</div> - <div class="i0">By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,</div> - <div class="i1">And the lantern dimly burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless coffin enclosed his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;</div> - <div class="i0">But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With his martial cloak around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the prayers we said,</div> - <div class="i1">And we spoke not a word of sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,</div> - <div class="i1">And we bitterly thought of the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And smoothed down his lonely pillow,</div> - <div class="i0">That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,</div> - <div class="i1">And we far away on the billow!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him—</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on</div> - <div class="i1">In the grave where a Briton has laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of our heavy task was done,</div> - <div class="i1">When the clock struck the hour for retiring;</div> - <div class="i0">And we heard the distant and random gun</div> - <div class="i1">That the foe was sullenly firing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we laid him down,</div> - <div class="i1">From the field of his fame fresh and gory;</div> - <div class="i0">We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone—</div> - <div class="i1">But we left him alone with his glory!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The ode was first published in <em>Currick's -Morning Post</em> (Ireland) in 1815, with the signature -"W. C.," and the Rev. J. A. Russell, -in his "Remains of C. Wolfe" (London, 1829), -states that a letter is preserved in the Royal -Irish Academy, addressed by the Rev. C. Wolfe -to John Taylor, Esq., at the Rev. Mr. Armstrong's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -Clononty, Cashel, in which he says:—"I have -completed the 'Burial of Sir John Moore,' and -will here inflict it upon you." This letter bears -the post mark "September 9, 1816."</p> - -<p>Yet although the poem was quickly copied -into all the newspapers, and at once became -widely popular, its authorship long remained -the subject of controversy. By some it was -ascribed to Lord Byron, whilst Shelley was -inclined to name Thomas Campbell as its -author. In 1841, long after the death of Wolfe, -it was dishonestly claimed by a Scotch teacher, -Mr. Macintosh, who ungenerously sought to -pluck the laurel from the grave of its owner.</p> - -<p>The friends of Wolfe came forward, and -established his right to the poem; the impostor -was compelled to withdraw his claim, and -apologise for his misconduct.</p> - -<p>Of the numerous claims to the authorship of -these lines the most striking was that advanced -by the Rev. Francis Mahony ("Father Prout") -in "Bentley's Miscellany," Vol. 1, p. 96, 1837:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The Rev. Mr. Wolfe is <em>supposed</em> to be the author of a -single poem, unparalleled in the English language for all -the qualities of a true lyric, breathing the purest spirit of the -antique, and setting criticism completely at defiance. I say -<em>supposed</em>, for the gentleman himself never claimed its -authorship during his short and unobtrusive lifetime. He -who could write the "Funeral of Sir John Moore" must -have eclipsed all the lyric poets of this latter age by the -fervour and brilliancy of his powers. Do the other writings -of Mr. Wolfe bear any trace of inspiration? None.</p> - -<p>"I fear we must look elsewhere for the origin of those -beautiful lines; and I think I can put the public on the -right scent. In 1749, Colonel de Beaumanoir, a native of -Brittany, having raised a regiment in his own neighbourhood, -went out with it to India, in that unfortunate expedition, -commanded by Lally-Tolendal, the failure of which -eventually lost to the French their possessions in Hindostan. -The colonel was killed in defending against the forces of -Coote, P<span class="smcapa">ONDICHERRY</span>, the last stronghold of the French in -that hemisphere.</p> - -<p>"He was buried that night on the north bastion of the -fortress by a few faithful followers, and the next day the fleet -sailed with the remainder of the garrison for Europe. In -the appendix to the "Memoirs of L<span class="smcapa">ALLY</span>-T<span class="smcapa">OLENDAL</span>" by -his son, the following lines occur, which bear some resemblance -to those attributed to Wolfe. Perhaps Wolfe Tone -may have communicated them to his relative, the clergyman, -on his return from France. <em>Fides sit penes lectorem.</em>"</p> - -<p class="center">P<span class="smcapa">ADRE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ROUT</span>.</p></blockquote> - - -<h3>L<span class="smcapa">ES</span> F<span class="smcapa">UNÉRAILLES DE</span> B<span class="smcapa">EAUMANOIR</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>The Original of "Not a drum was heard</em>.")</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ni le son du tambour ... ni la marche funèbre ...</div> - <div class="i1">Ni le feu des soldats ... ne marqua son départ.</div> - <div class="i0">Mais du B<span class="smcapa">RAVE</span>, à la hâte, à travers les ténèbres,</div> - <div class="i1">Mornes ... nous portâmes le cadavre au rempart!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="p6">II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">De minuit c'était l'heure, et solitaire et sombre—</div> - <div class="i1">La lune à peine offrait un débile-rayon:</div> - <div class="i0">La lanterne luisait péniblement dans l'ombre,</div> - <div class="i1">Quand de la bayonnette on creusa le gazon.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="p6">III.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">D'inutile cercueil ni de drap funéraire</div> - <div class="i1">Nous ne daignâmes point entourer le H<span class="smcapa">EROS</span>;</div> - <div class="i0">Il gisait dans les plis du manteau militaire</div> - <div class="i1">Comme un guerrier qui dort son heure de repos.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="p6">IV.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">La prière qu'on fit fut de courte durée:</div> - <div class="i1">Nul ne parla de deuil, bien que le cœur fut plein!</div> - <div class="i0">Mais on fixait du M<span class="smcapa">ORT</span> la figure adorée ...</div> - <div class="i1">Mais avec amertume on songeait au demain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="p6">V.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Au demain! quand ici ou sa fosse s'apprête,</div> - <div class="i1">Ou son humide lit on dresse avec sanglots,</div> - <div class="i0">L'ennemi orgueilleux marchera sur sa tête,</div> - <div class="i1">Et nous, ses vétérans, serons loin sur les flots!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="p6">VI.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ils terniront sa gloire ... on pourra les entendre</div> - <div class="i1">Nommer l'illustre <span class="smcapa">MORT</span> d'un ton amer ... ou fol;</div> - <div class="i0">Il les laissera dire.—Eh! qu'importe <span class="smcapa">A SA CENDRE</span>,</div> - <div class="i1">Que la main d'un B<span class="smcapa">RETON</span> a confiée au sol?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="p6">VII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">L'œuvre durait encore, quand retentit la cloche</div> - <div class="i1">Au sommet du Befroi:—et le canon lointain,</div> - <div class="i0">Tiré par intervalle, en annonçant l'approche,</div> - <div class="i1">Signalait la fierté de l'ennemi hautain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="p6">VIII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Et dans sa fosse alors le mîmes lentement ...</div> - <div class="i1">Près du champ où sa gloire a été consommée:</div> - <div class="i0">Ne mîmes à l'endroit pierre ni monument</div> - <div class="i1">Le laissant seul à seul avec sa Renommée!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>This "Father Prout," whom Mr. G. A. Sala -terms "the wittiest pedant, the most pedantic -wit, and the oddest fish he ever met with," was -well known as an inveterate jester, as well as an -accomplished linguist, so that the above effusion -did not deceive his associates, especially as the -documents referred to in it, as evidence, had no -existence save in the fertile brain of "Father -Prout."</p> - -<p>In the recent edition of the "Maclise Portrait -Gallery," by Mr. William Bates, M.A. (Chatto -and Windus, 1883), is an interesting biography -of this eccentric genius, in which will be found -all that is known about his French imitation of -Wolfe's Ode. Mr. Bates truly remarks that, notwithstanding -Padre Prout's skill in French -versification, there are internal evidences that -the poem was not written by a Frenchman, and -further that it has the unmistakable air of a -translation. Unfortunately, however, the mischief -was done, and what Mahony may have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -intended for a harmless pleasantry, has raised a -literary controversy of wide dimensions. His -verses were copied into serious French journals, -and many well-informed foreigners believe the -lines to have originated from a French source. -Thus M. Octave Delepierre, in his <em>Essai sur la -Parodie</em> (Trübner and Co., London, 1870), seems -to have been entirely misled by the hoax. He -gives part of the French version, and whilst -stating that it is not a settled point, which was -first written, he does not mention Father Prout's -article, and seems entirely ignorant of the -fictitious and humorous origin of the French -imitation.</p> - -<p>Singularly enough, <cite>The Athenæum</cite>, of July 1, -1871, in reviewing M. Delepierre's work, fell -into the same error, and seriously argued -against the French claim, forgetting all about -Father Prout.</p> - -<p>M. Delepierre's statement is (<em>Essai sur la -Parodie</em>, p. 163):—"Lorsqu'elle fut publiée en -1824, elle parut assez belle pour que le Capitaine -Medwin suggérat qu'elle était due à la -muse de <em>Byron</em>. Sydney Taylor réfuta cette -supposition, et restitua l'ode à son véritable -auteur, le <em>Rev. Charles Wolfe</em>."</p> - -<p>"Ce n'est pas seulement en Angleterre qu'on a -discuté la paternité de cette ode célèbre. On -trouve à ce sujet toute une discussion littéraire -dans le journal <cite>L'Intermédiare des Chercheurs et -Curieux</cite>, 5ᵉ année, page 693, et 6ᵉ année, pages -19 et 106."</p> - -<p>"D'après ces détails, il paraîtrait que cette -pièce n'est que la traduction d'une ode Française, -composée à l'occasion de la mort du Comte de -Beaumanoir, tué en 1749, à la défense de Pondichery. -L'une de ces deux odes est évidemment -une traduction de l'autre; mais quel est -l'original?"</p> - -<p>The following is the note in the <em>Intermédiare</em>, -to which M. Delepierre refers:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The well-known verses on the death of Sir John Moore, -attributed to the Rev. Charles Wolfe, but never acknowledged -by him, are so similar to the above, that it is supposed -Mr. Wolfe may have received the French stanzas from -his relative, Mr. Wolfe Tone, after his return from France."</p></blockquote> - -<p>The best answer to which is, that the French -have never yet produced a genuine and authentic -copy of the original version, of a date earlier -than that of Wolfe.</p> - -<p>The ode has been translated into German (by -the Rev. E. C. Hawtrey); into Latin Elegiacs -(by the Rev. J. Hildyard); and there is a Greek -translation of it "By a Scottish Physician" in -the <cite>Arundines Devæ</cite> (Edinburgh, 1853); there is -also a parody of it by the late Mr. J. H. Dixon, -which is highly spoken of, but, up till now, -this has eluded the editor's researches.</p> - -<p>The Rev. R. H. Barham's well known parody -in "The Ingoldsby Legends" is especially -notable for its close imitation of the original; -thus not only is the metre closely followed, but -nearly all the lines are made to end with -similar rhymes to those in the original.</p> - -<p>Barham had a good excuse for this comical -effusion, in the wish to expose and ridicule the -pretensions of a certain <em>soi-disant</em> "Doctor," a -Durham veterinary surgeon of the name of -Marshall, on whose behalf a claim had been -made, in 1824, for the authorship of the "Ode." -But this was afterwards said to have been a -mere hoax, as this Marshall was more remarkable -for convivial, than literary tastes.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Note.—In the autumn of 1824, Captain Medwin having -hinted that certain beautiful lines on the burial of this gallant -officer might have been the production of Lord Byron's -muse, the late Mr. Sydney Taylor, somewhat indignantly, -claimed them for their rightful owner, the late Rev. Charles -Wolfe. During the controversy a third claimant started up -in the person of a <em>soi-disant</em> "Doctor Marshall," who -turned out to be a Durham blacksmith, and his pretensions a -hoax. It was then that a certain "Doctor Peppercorn" put -forth <em>his</em> pretensions to what he averred was the only "true -and original" version, viz.:—</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not a <em>sous</em> had he got, not a guinea or note,</div> - <div class="i1">And he looked confoundedly flurried,</div> - <div class="i0">As he bolted away without paying his shot,</div> - <div class="i1">And the Landlady after him hurried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We saw him again at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">When home from the Club returning,</div> - <div class="i0">We twigg'd the Doctor beneath the light</div> - <div class="i1">Of the gas lamp brilliantly burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All bare, and exposed to the midnight dews,</div> - <div class="i1">Reclined in the gutter we found him,</div> - <div class="i0">And he look'd like a gentleman taking a snooze,</div> - <div class="i1">With his <em>Marshall</em> cloak around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The Doctor's as drunk as the d——," we said,</div> - <div class="i1">And we managed a shutter to borrow;</div> - <div class="i0">We raised him, and sigh'd at the thought that his head</div> - <div class="i1">Would consumedly ache on the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We bore him home, and we put him to bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And we told his wife and his daughter</div> - <div class="i0">To give him, next morning, a couple of red</div> - <div class="i1">Herrings, with soda water.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Loudly they talk'd of his money that's gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And his Lady began to upbraid him;</div> - <div class="i0">But little he reck'd, so they let him snore on</div> - <div class="i1">'Neath the counterpane just as we laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We tuck'd him in, and had hardly done,</div> - <div class="i1">When, beneath the window calling,</div> - <div class="i0">We heard the rough voice of a son-of-a-gun</div> - <div class="i1">Of a watchman, "One o'clock," bawling.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we all walk'd down</div> - <div class="i1">From his room in the uppermost story;</div> - <div class="i0">A rushlight we placed on the cold hearth-stone,</div> - <div class="i1">And we left him alone in his glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores.—<em>Virgil.</em></div> - <div class="i0">I wrote the verses, * * claimed them—he told stories.</div> - <div class="i15"><em>Thomas Ingoldsby.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following parody is copied literally from -an old ballad sheet in the British Museum, -bearing the imprint:—"Printed and sold by -J. Pitts, 6 Great St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials." -No date is given, but that it was prior to 1830 -is shown by the reference to the "Charleys," a -nick-name for the old London watchmen, who -were superseded by the new police towards the -end of 1829. But the crimes of Body-snatching, -and "Burking," were not finally put a stop to -until, by the act of 1832, provision was made -for the wants of surgeons by permitting, under -certain regulations, the dissection of persons -dying in workhouses, etc.:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a trap was heard, or a Charley's note</div> - <div class="i1">As our course to the churchyard we hurried,</div> - <div class="i0">Not a pigman discharg'd a pistol shot</div> - <div class="i1">As a <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'corse'">corpse</ins> from the grave we unburied.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We nibbled it slily at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">The sod with our pick-axes turning,</div> - <div class="i0">By the nosing moonbeam's chaffing light,</div> - <div class="i1">And our lanterns so queerly burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the words we said,</div> - <div class="i1">And we felt not a bit of sorrow,</div> - <div class="i0">But we rubb'd with rouge the face of the dead</div> - <div class="i1">And we thought of the spoil for to-morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The useless shroud we tore from his breast</div> - <div class="i1">And then in regimentals bound him,</div> - <div class="i0">And he looked like a swoddy taking his rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With his lobster togs around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought as we fill'd up his narrow bed,</div> - <div class="i1">Our snatching trick now no look sees;</div> - <div class="i0">But the bulk and the sexton will find him fled,</div> - <div class="i1">And we far away towards Brooks's.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Largely they'll cheek 'bout the body that's gone</div> - <div class="i1">And poor Doctor Brooks will upbraid him;</div> - <div class="i0">But nothing we care if they leave him alone</div> - <div class="i1">In a place where a snatcher has laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of our snatching job was o'er,</div> - <div class="i1">When a pal tipt the sign quick for shuffling,</div> - <div class="i0">And we heard by the distant hoarse Charley's roar</div> - <div class="i1">That the beaks would be 'mongst us soon scuffling.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slily and slowly we laid him down,</div> - <div class="i1">In our cart famed for staching in story;</div> - <div class="i0">Nicely and neatly we done 'em brown,</div> - <div class="i1">For we bolted away in our glory.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>At the time when the first Reform Bill was -under discussion its opponents constantly -asserted that, if it were carried, the ancient -constitution of the country would be swept -away, and that ruin, revolution, and anarchy -would result. The following parody appeared -in a Liberal newspaper of the period:—</p> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">DE ON THE</span> D<span class="smcapa">EATH AND</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF THE</span><br /> -C<span class="smcapa">ONSTITUTION.</span></h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Who will not be alive to the merits of the following -verses on the death of the British Constitution, which has -been dying for the last four years at least. The lament of -the Conservative party over his death and burial abounds -in feeling and sentiment worthy of its prototype."</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a moan was heard—not a funeral note,</div> - <div class="i1">As his corpse to the devil they hurried,</div> - <div class="i0">Not a speaker discharged his farewell shot,</div> - <div class="i1">O'er the grave where our idol was buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They buried him darkly at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">With their threats our remonstrance turning,</div> - <div class="i0">By the struggling Stephen's misty light,</div> - <div class="i1">In the brazen socket burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless coffin enclosed his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">In a sheet of parchment they bound him,</div> - <div class="i0">And he lay with Old Sarum for ever at rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With schedule A around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the speeches said,</div> - <div class="i1">And we spoke not a word of sorrow,</div> - <div class="i0">But we mournfully looked on the face of the dead,</div> - <div class="i1">And thought of the coming morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought as they tumbled him into his bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And laid him at rest on his pillow,</div> - <div class="i0">That the Radical soon would step over our head,</div> - <div class="i1">And we be turned out by the bill—oh!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they talk of the spirit that's gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,</div> - <div class="i0">But England's destroyed if they let him sleep on,</div> - <div class="i1">In the grave where Lord Russell has laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half our heavy task was done,</div> - <div class="i1">When the time came for ending the session,</div> - <div class="i0">And we heard by the sound of the Tower gun,</div> - <div class="i1">That the King was now in procession,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we laid him down,</div> - <div class="i1">From the further defence of the Tory,</div> - <div class="i0">We carved not a line on his funeral stone,</div> - <div class="i1">But we left him alone in his glory.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>Figaro in London</em>, 8th September, 1832.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>There was another parody of these celebrated -lines published just after Mr. John O'Connell -had threatened to die on the floor of the House -of Commons, a threat which, of course, gave rise -to more laughter than dismay:—</p> - - -<h3>LINES,<br /> - -(<span class="smcapa">AFTER WOLFE</span>)</h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center"><em>Written on the threatened Death</em> (<em>on the Floor of the House</em>) -<em>of John O'Connell</em>.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not a groan was heard, not a pitying note,</div> - <div class="i1">As down on the floor he hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a member offered to lend his coat,</div> - <div class="i1">Or ask'd how he'd like to be buried</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> - <div class="i0">We looked at him slily at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">Our backs adroitly turning,</div> - <div class="i0">That he might not see us laugh outright</div> - <div class="i1">By the lights so brightly burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless advice we on him press'd,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor in argument we wound him;</div> - <div class="i0">But we left him to lie, and take his rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With his Irish <em>clique</em> around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the speeches made,</div> - <div class="i1">And we spoke not a word in sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">But we thought, as we look'd, though we leave him for dead,</div> - <div class="i1">He'll be fresh as a lark to-morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought, we'll be careful where we tread,</div> - <div class="i1">And avoid him where he's lying;</div> - <div class="i0">For if we should tumble over his head,</div> - <div class="i1">'Twould certainly send us flying.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they'll talk of him when they're gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And p'rhaps for his folly upbraid him;</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll care, and again try it on,</div> - <div class="i1">Till the Serjeant-at-arms shall have stayed him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of us asked, "What's now to be done?"</div> - <div class="i1">When the time arrived for retiring,</div> - <div class="i0">And we heard the door-keeper say, "It's no fun</div> - <div class="i1">Our attendance to watch him requiring."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and softly they shut the door,</div> - <div class="i1">After Radical, Whig, and Tory;</div> - <div class="i0">And muttering out, "We'll stop here no more,"</div> - <div class="i1">They left him alone in his glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, December, 1847.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>"GRAVE SENTIT ARATRUM."</h3> - -<p class="center">"A GRIEVOUS THING HE FEELS IT TO BE PLOUGHED."</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He looked glum when he heard, by a friendly note</div> - <div class="i1">Which, of course, his chum sent in a hurry,</div> - <div class="i0">That, alas! he had no testamur got;</div> - <div class="i1">And he felt in a deuce of a flurry.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He thought how he'd read at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">The page of Herodotus turning,</div> - <div class="i0">By the tallow-candle's flickering light,</div> - <div class="i1">Or the moderator burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No ruthless coughing arose from his chest,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor did indigestion wound him;</div> - <div class="i0">But he said—as the worry was breaking his rest—</div> - <div class="i1">"That Examiner—confound him!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"What's the odds?" were the words that he said;</div> - <div class="i1">But he choked not down his sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">For he sadly remembered the hopes that were fled,</div> - <div class="i1">And pictured the "Governor's horror."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then he thought, as he hurled himself into bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And dashed his head down on the pillow,</div> - <div class="i0">That his foe, the tailor, would want to be paid,</div> - <div class="i1">And would quickly be sending his bill, oh!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Very likely he thought (now his credit was gone),</div> - <div class="i1">"Oh! I wish with cold cash I had paid him;</div> - <div class="i0">But nothing he'll get: I'll be off to Boulogne,"</div> - <div class="i1">And he went, out of Britain to shade him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Just after his heavy sleep, each tone,</div> - <div class="i1">As the clock struck the hour, was mocking,</div> - <div class="i0">And he fancied that many a ravenous dun</div> - <div class="i1">At the oak was sullenly knocking.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He cautiously put out his head, and looked down</div> - <div class="i1">From his room in the second story:</div> - <div class="i0">He saw but the quad, and its paving of stone;</div> - <div class="i1">He was all alone,—in his glory (?)</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">J<span class="smcapa">EREMY</span> D<span class="smcapa">IDDLER</span>, Oxford.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>College Rhymes</em> (T. & G. Shrimpton), Oxford, 1864.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>P<span class="smcapa">ARODY ON</span> "T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> M<span class="smcapa">OORE</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Not a laugh was heard, not a joyous note,</div> - <div class="i1">As our friend to the bridal we hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a wit discharged his farewell shot,</div> - <div class="i1">As the bachelor went to be married.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"We married him quietly to save his fright,</div> - <div class="i1">Our heads from the sad sight turning;</div> - <div class="i0">And we sighed as we stood by the lamp's dim light,</div> - <div class="i1">To think he was not more discerning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"To think that a bachelor free and bright,</div> - <div class="i1">And shy of the sex as we found him,</div> - <div class="i0">Should there at the altar, at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">Be caught in the snares that bound him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Few and short were the words that we said,</div> - <div class="i1">Though of wine and cake partaking;</div> - <div class="i0">We escorted him home from the scene of dread,</div> - <div class="i1">While his knees were awfully shaking.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Slowly and sadly we marched him down,</div> - <div class="i1">From the first to the lowermost storey;</div> - <div class="i0">And we never have heard or seen the poor man</div> - <div class="i1">Whom we left alone in his glory."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>These lines appeared in <em>Notes and Queries</em> -June 27, 1868, and are said to have been written -by Thomas Hood.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> F<span class="smcapa">LIGHT OF</span> O'N<span class="smcapa">EILL, THE</span> I<span class="smcapa">NVADER OF</span> C<span class="smcapa">ANADA</span>.</h3> - -<p>"G<span class="smcapa">ENERAL</span> O'N<span class="smcapa">EILL</span>, who, at the head of the Fenian -forces recently invaded Canada, seems to combine, together -with his love for Ireland, a certain amount of affection for -the ordinary enjoyments of life; for one complaint against -him is, that the morning of the attack, when awakened at -three o'clock by a captain belonging to his quarters, he -merely said, "All right!" and fell asleep again. On two -subsequent occasions he was awakened with no more practical -result, and on being called a fourth time, got up. -Even then, however, he declined to proceed at once with the -glorious work of liberating Ireland, but said, "He guessed -he would wait till breakfast." After breakfast this great -patriot advanced at the head of his forces, but being surprised -by a party of Canadian Volunteers, who fired upon the -Fenians, immediately retired to his quarters, where he was -found very comfortably lodged, and was arrested by General -Foster, the United States Marshal, for a breach of the -neutrality laws."</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not a gun was heard, not a bugle note,</div> - <div class="i0">As over the border he hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">He took to his heels without firing a shot,</div> - <div class="i0">Only looking tremendously flurried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No ridiculous scruples inspired his breast,</div> - <div class="i0">As over the ground he jolted;</div> - <div class="i0">Not caring a straw what became of the rest,</div> - <div class="i0">He unhesitatingly bolted.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> - <div class="i0">And snug in his quarters, at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">The Yankee General found him;</div> - <div class="i0">His bed all ready, his candle alight,</div> - <div class="i1">And bottles of whisky around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And when at his door came the clanking and noise,</div> - <div class="i1">His courage all sank to zero;</div> - <div class="i0">For, though at the head of the Fenian "bhoys,"</div> - <div class="i1">He wasn't exactly a hero.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When the Britishers find that he really is gone,</div> - <div class="i1">In impotent rage they upbraid him;</div> - <div class="i0">If Mr. O'N<span class="smcapa">EILL</span> they had laid hands upon</div> - <div class="i1">At that moment, they surely had flay'd him!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the words they said—</div> - <div class="i1">They only expressed their sorrow</div> - <div class="i0">That they hadn't caught him, and put him to bed</div> - <div class="i1">Where he wouldn't wake up on the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But safe in New York, under F<span class="smcapa">OSTER'S</span> convoy,</div> - <div class="i1">He has gone to tell his own story;</div> - <div class="i0">Where "shut up" very much, this broth of a boy</div> - <div class="i1">Is at present alone in his glory!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Judy</em>, 22nd June, 1870.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>"R<span class="smcapa">UNNING HIM IN</span>."</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>By a Good Templar in the Force.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A groan was heard, like a funeral note,</div> - <div class="i1">From a toper in mud half-buried,</div> - <div class="i0">And our Serjeant "Drunk and incapable" wrote,</div> - <div class="i1">When his form to the station we hurried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We hurried him swiftly at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">And oft with our truncheons spurning,</div> - <div class="i0">Under many a gas-lamp's flickering light,</div> - <div class="i1">Through alley and crooked turning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In rags and tatters the toper was dressed,</div> - <div class="i1">For in poverty drink had bound him.</div> - <div class="i0">And he lay like a pig in a gutter at rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With little pigs squeaking around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We lifted him up, but he fell as one dead,</div> - <div class="i1">And we tumbled him into a barrow;</div> - <div class="i0">And the idle spectators shouted and said,</div> - <div class="i1">"He'll be fined, with a caution, to-morrow!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they talk of the <em>spirit</em> that's gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And o'er empty bottles upbraid him;</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll reck, as they let him sleep on</div> - <div class="i1">In the cell where the constables laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No curtains had he to his lonely bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And a rough deal plank was his pillow;</div> - <div class="i0">He will wake with parched throat and an aching head,</div> - <div class="i1">And thirst that would drink up a billow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Roughly, yet sadly, we laid him down,</div> - <div class="i1">That toper, worn, haggard, and hoary,</div> - <div class="i0">And wished that the dissolute youth of the town</div> - <div class="i1">A warning might take from his story.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Funny Folks.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">URDER OF</span> "M<span class="smcapa">ACBETH</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not a hiss was heard, not an angry yell,</div> - <div class="i1">Though of both 'twas surely deserving—</div> - <div class="i0">When, cruelly murdered, <em>Macbeth</em> fell</div> - <div class="i1">By the hand of the eminent Irving.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He murdered him, lengthily, that night,</div> - <div class="i1">With his new and original reading.</div> - <div class="i0">Till his efforts left him in sorry plight,</div> - <div class="i1">And the sweat on his brow was bleeding.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Five different garments enclosed his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">Five brand-new dresses were found him,</div> - <div class="i0">Though in never a one did he look at rest,</div> - <div class="i1">Though the people might sleep around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many and long were the words he said,</div> - <div class="i1">Till we wished in fervent sorrow,</div> - <div class="i0">We could only get home to our welcome bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And we vowed not to come on the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought as he quivered, and gasped, and strode,</div> - <div class="i1">And made us long for our pillow,</div> - <div class="i0">That a taste of his tragic genius he owed</div> - <div class="i1">To our cousins far over the billow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Even there, though his fame before has gone;</div> - <div class="i1">He may find it melt in a minute;</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll reck, if they let him act on</div> - <div class="i1">In a play with a murderer in it.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half the heavy play was o'er</div> - <div class="i1">When we seized the chance for retiring,</div> - <div class="i0">And left him grovelling about on the floor,</div> - <div class="i1">With his friends all madly admiring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sadly we thought as we went away,</div> - <div class="i1">From his acting so dreary and gory,</div> - <div class="i0">That the eminent I, if he's wise will not play,</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Macbeth</em> any more, if for glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Figaro</em>, 16th October, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This critic, who left the theatre before the -tragedy was half over, was, of course, eminently -qualified to point out the shortcomings of Mr. -Irving in the part of <em>Macbeth</em>, But perhaps the -critic had forgotten that the leading character -has one, or two, rather strong situations towards -the end of the play, which he should have witnessed -before condemning the actor.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF THE</span> T<span class="smcapa">ITLE</span>, "Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not a cheer was heard, not a joyous note,</div> - <div class="i1">As the Bill to the tellers we hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">So solemn and dread is the midnight vote</div> - <div class="i1">When a title has to be buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We rolled up our sleeve and took off our coat,</div> - <div class="i1">To make it a question burning;</div> - <div class="i0">We strained every nerve to set it afloat,</div> - <div class="i1">The hate of all Englishmen earning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They hurled at us gibe, and mud so foul</div> - <div class="i1">(There's much of it still adhering),</div> - <div class="i0">And we knew by the distant and random growl</div> - <div class="i1">That the foe was sullenly sneering.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Oh, little we reck of the name that's fled</div> - <div class="i1">(That Lowe's a most impudent monkey);</div> - <div class="i0">For "Empreth" sounds sweetly when lispingly said</div> - <div class="i1">By the lips of some courtly flunkey.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Twas fondly imagined a title of might,</div> - <div class="i1">Renowned in an ancient story;</div> - <div class="i0">But we dug a deep hole and rammed it in tight,</div> - <div class="i1">And left it alone in its glory!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Figaro</em>, April 8, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>One of the arguments against Mr. Disraeli's -Titles Bill, was that <em>Empress</em> was likely altogether -to supersede the older, and more constitutional, -title of <em>Queen</em>. The lapse of but a few -years has shown how groundless was this -apprehension, for except in state documents or -Daily Telegraph leaders, the title of Empress is -never employed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In November, 1879, <em>The Weekly Dispatch</em> (a -high-class London Liberal newspaper) commenced -a series of Prize Competitions, the -subjects, and methods of treatment, being -indicated by the Prize Editor. On April 18, -1880, the prize of Two Guineas was for the best -Poem on the Downfall of the Beaconsfield -Government, in the form of a parody of "The -Burial of Sir John Moore." It was awarded to -Mr. D. Evans, 63, Talma Road, Brixton, S.E., -for the following:—</p> - - -<p class="center">(<em>From a Tory point of view.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not a hum was heard, not a jubilant note,</div> - <div class="i1">As away from the House we all scurried—</div> - <div class="i0">Not a Liberal's tear bedewed the spot,</div> - <div class="i1">The grave where our hopes were buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We buried them sadly and deep that night,</div> - <div class="i1">For we had no hope of returning,</div> - <div class="i0">By Reason's bright returning light,</div> - <div class="i1">And our hearts were sadly yearning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few indeed were the words we said,</div> - <div class="i1">But though few they were pregnant with sorrow,</div> - <div class="i0">As we all in search of Benjamin fled</div> - <div class="i1">To inspire us with hope for the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No gaudy star was upon his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">No ermine cloak was around him,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet he stood like a man who had feathered his nest;</div> - <div class="i1">And he smiled at us all, confound him!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought, as we left with a silent tread,</div> - <div class="i1">Of Cross and his dreadful Water,</div> - <div class="i0">That the Liberals would soon be seen there instead,</div> - <div class="i1">And we far away from that quarter.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they'll talk of us when we have gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And of course they've a right to abuse us;</div> - <div class="i0">But little we'd care if they'd let us keep on</div> - <div class="i1">In our places and wouldn't refuse us.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But scarce had our sad hearts aching done.</div> - <div class="i1">When again to the fight we were guided;</div> - <div class="i0">And we knew that the foe had a victory won,</div> - <div class="i1">That our fate was indeed decided.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we all went down</div> - <div class="i1">With the blood of our brethren all gory;</div> - <div class="i0">But our sun at Midlothian has now gone down,</div> - <div class="i1">So farewell to the hopes of the Tory.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another parody on the same subject by Mr. -James Robinson, of 59, Lyal Road, North Bow, -was also inserted:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not a sigh was heard, not a tear-drop fell,</div> - <div class="i1">As its corpse from the hustings we hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">But we felt more anxious than tongue can tell</div> - <div class="i1">To get the thing decently buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With a woodcutter's help we dug it a grave—</div> - <div class="i1">(It was deep and contained some water)—</div> - <div class="i0">All willingly helped, and the sexton gave</div> - <div class="i1">An address on its deeds of slaughter.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With a "brilliant" lie we bedecked its breast,</div> - <div class="i1">In a "cloak of deceit" we wound it,</div> - <div class="i0">So it lay like a hypocrite taking its rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With its weapons all around it.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Brief and stern was the service said,</div> - <div class="i1">In its own peculiar lingo;</div> - <div class="i0">By a Hebrew scribe was a chapter read</div> - <div class="i1">From the gospel according to Jingo.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly we'll speak of the Ministry gone.</div> - <div class="i1">Nor o'er its cold ashes upbraid it,</div> - <div class="i0">We'll forgive a good deal if it only sleeps on</div> - <div class="i1">In the dishonoured past where we've laid it.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The Editor added the following remarks:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Among the numerous parodies of 'The Burial of Sir -John Moore' there are some, faulty in parts, in which there -are remarkably vigorous verses. One competitor, for instance, -treating Jingo as a personality, says:—</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'No well-bunged beer-cask confined his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor in cerement white we bound him;</div> - <div class="i0">But he lay 'neath a water-butt, taking his rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With a pool of that liquid around him.'</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another winds up thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Smiling and gladly we toppled him down,</div> - <div class="i1">That image of humbug so gory;</div> - <div class="i0">We wrote but one line—'Here, under this stone,</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Lies</em> bombast, false glitter, and glory.'</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And a third is particularly energetic in his speculations as -to the behaviour of the Premier on hearing of the defeat of -his policy:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'He thought, as he holloa'd aloud in bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And pommelled his lonely pillow,</div> - <div class="i0">He was pitching away into Gladstone's head;</div> - <div class="i1">And his fury was like the billow.'"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF THE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ASHER</span>.</h3> - -<p>"Mr. Burnand's good-natured but well-directed chaff in -'Blue Beard,' at the Gaiety, may be said to have ridiculed -that curious product of modern civilisation, the Masher, out -of existence. His continued life now seems to be impossible."—<em>Daily Paper.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a laugh was heard, not a cheery sound,</div> - <div class="i1">As the song to an <em>encore</em> was hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a man in the stalls to cheer was found,</div> - <div class="i1">On the night that the Masher was buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He'd come before to a parlous pass,</div> - <div class="i1">Sore stricken by T<span class="smcapa">RUTH'S</span> endeavour;</div> - <div class="i0">But "Blue Beard" gave him his <em>coup de grâce</em>.</div> - <div class="i1">And finished him once for ever!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It killed and buried him sitting there,</div> - <div class="i1">By ridicule on him turning;</div> - <div class="i0">'Neath the shifting lime-light's brilliant glare,</div> - <div class="i1">With the footlights brightly burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His wired gardenia graced his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">And sodden in scent one found him,</div> - <div class="i0">As he sat there sucking his stick with zest,</div> - <div class="i1">With his three-inch collar around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A deep red groove in his puffy throat,</div> - <div class="i1">That collar's starched edge was flaying;</div> - <div class="i0">And the bow trimmed pumps, on which youths now dote,</div> - <div class="i1">Were the clocks of his hose displaying.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Pearl-headed pins kept his tie in place.</div> - <div class="i1">And his shirt front's wealth of whiteness</div> - <div class="i0">Made yet more sallow his pasty face,</div> - <div class="i1">More dazzling his chest-stud's brightness.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No thought worth thinking was in his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor on his dull brain was flashing,</div> - <div class="i0">But he sat encased in his board-like vest,</div> - <div class="i1">Equipped for the evening's mashing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But few and short were the leers he gave</div> - <div class="i1">At the chorus-girls singing before him;</div> - <div class="i0">For cold and swift as an ocean wave,</div> - <div class="i1">The chaff of Burnand swept o'er him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And vainly he turn'd, sore at heart and sick,</div> - <div class="i1">Some hope from the "Johnnies" to borrow;</div> - <div class="i0">For they steadfastly sucked every one his stick,</div> - <div class="i1">And most bitterly thought of the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They thought, as the dramatist chaffed them to death,</div> - <div class="i1">And foreshadowed their doom so plainly,</div> - <div class="i0">That they next morning, with feverish breath,</div> - <div class="i1">Might demand devilled prawns all vainly;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">That their faith in the curried egg might go,</div> - <div class="i1">And a cayenne salad not serve them,</div> - <div class="i0">Nor champagne cheer when their "tone" was low,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor a <em>fricassee'd</em> oyster nerve them!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They felt that the power to attention gain</div> - <div class="i1">Would surely henceforth evade them,</div> - <div class="i0">And that public contempt would let them remain</div> - <div class="i1">In the grave where a "Blue Beard" had laid them.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And so, when Burnand his task had done,</div> - <div class="i1">And received a right warm ovation,</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the Mashers was left not one;</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas complete annihilation.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And they buried them there, where they first were born,</div> - <div class="i1">With gardenias on them clustered—</div> - <div class="i0">In the mashing garbs that they long had worn—</div> - <div class="i1">Near the stalls where they'd nightly mustered.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Blithely and gaily they laid them down,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor heard was a sob nor a sigh there;</div> - <div class="i0">And they carved not a line and they raised not a stone—</div> - <div class="i1">For the Mashers were worthy of neither!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Truth</em>, March 22, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>N<span class="smcapa">EVER</span> J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> M<span class="smcapa">OORE</span>; <span class="smcapa">OR, THE</span> R<span class="smcapa">EJECTED</span> S<span class="smcapa">UITOR</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(An old story by an Old Bachelor.)</p> - -<p class="center">(<em>With sincere apologies to the Rev. Charles Wolfe—for the -sheep's clothing.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He felt highly absurd, as he put on his coat,</div> - <div class="i1">And, of course, exceedingly worried;</div> - <div class="i0">He swore he'd never return to the spot,</div> - <div class="i1">As out of the front door he scurried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He tried to banish her face from his sight,</div> - <div class="i1">She for whom he was yearning;</div> - <div class="i0">Hadn't Fred said, he knew he was right,</div> - <div class="i1">And that she was fond of spurning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But who'd have thought—ah, even guessed—</div> - <div class="i1">That after she had caught and bound him;</div> - <div class="i0">It was to be but a flirting jest.</div> - <div class="i1">An impartial joke to sound him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the words he had said,</div> - <div class="i1">Only this—only this, "love be mine."</div> - <div class="i0">She gave him a rap with her fan on his head,</div> - <div class="i1">And laughingly left him to pine</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What was he to do? should he hate her instead?</div> - <div class="i1">Or weeping wail, waly willow;</div> - <div class="i0">Or wiping away the tears he had shed,</div> - <div class="i1">Launch in some fresh peccadillo?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they'd talked in the days that were gone,</div> - <div class="i1">In arbours and in kitchen gardens;</div> - <div class="i0">Only to find <em>his</em> poor heart torn</div> - <div class="i1">By devotion, which her hard heart hardens.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - - <div class="p6">L'<span class="smcapa">ENVOI.</span></div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The moral of this I hope you won't shun,</div> - <div class="i1">Don't be in your mind too enquiring,</div> - <div class="i0">Don't fall in love, or as sure as a gun,</div> - <div class="i1">You're not cared for by her you're admiring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Talk to them civilly and leave them alone,</div> - <div class="i1">And this is the end of my story.</div> - <div class="i0">And as I don't mean to alter my tone,</div> - <div class="i1">I drink to all flirts "con amore."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>From <em>Cribblings from the Poets</em> (Jones & Piggott), -Cambridge, 1883.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A F<span class="smcapa">UNERAL AFTER</span> S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> M<span class="smcapa">OORE'S</span>,<br /> -F<span class="smcapa">URNISHED BY AN</span> U<span class="smcapa">NDERTAKER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a mute one word at the funeral spoke</div> - <div class="i1">Till away to the pot-house we hurried,</div> - <div class="i0">Not a bearer discharged his ribald joke</div> - <div class="i1">O'er the grave where our "party" we buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We buried him dearly with vain display,</div> - <div class="i1">Two hundred per cent. returning,</div> - <div class="i0">Which we made the struggling orphans pay,</div> - <div class="i1">All consideration spurning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With plumes of feathers his hearse was drest,</div> - <div class="i1">Pall and hatbands and scarfs we found him;</div> - <div class="i0">And he went, as a Christian, unto his rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With his empty pomp around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">None at all were the prayers we said,</div> - <div class="i1">And we felt not the slightest sorrow,</div> - <div class="i0">But we thought, as the rites were perform'd o'er the dead,</div> - <div class="i1">Of the bill we'd run up on the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought as he sunk to his lowly bed</div> - <div class="i1">That we wish'd they'd cut it shorter.</div> - <div class="i0">So that we might be off to the Saracen's Head,</div> - <div class="i1">For our gin, and our pipes, and our porter.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly we speak of the "party" that's gone,</div> - <div class="i1">Now all due respect has been paid him;</div> - <div class="i0">Ah! little he reck'd of the lark that went on</div> - <div class="i1">Near the spot where we fellows had laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As soon as our sable task was done,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor a moment we lost in retiring;</div> - <div class="i0">And we feasted and frolick'd, and poked our fun,</div> - <div class="i1">Gin and water each jolly soul firing,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Blithely and quickly we quaff'd it down,</div> - <div class="i1">Singing song, cracking joke, telling story;</div> - <div class="i0">And we shouted and laughed all the way up to Town,</div> - <div class="i1">Riding outside the hearse in our glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, January 5, 1850.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>At the time when the above parody appeared -there was an agitation on foot to reform the -costliness and vain display at funerals. <em>Punch</em>, -both in his cartoons and his letterpress, was -exceedingly bitter against the undertakers.</p> - -<p>The matter was so energetically taken up by -the press and the public, that funerals were -soon shorn of their costly mummery, and are -now conducted on much more sensible and -economical principles than they were in 1850.</p> - -<p>In reference to the disputed authority of the -ode "Not a drum was heard," the Rev. T. W. -Carson, of Dublin, has kindly forwarded a <em>facsimile</em> -of the letter, (to which reference was made -on page 105), from the Rev. C. Wolfe to his friend -Mr. John Taylor. It varies slightly from the -version already given, and seems conclusively -to establish Wolfe's title as author of the poem.</p> - -<p>It runs thus:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"I have completed the Burial of Sir John Moore, and will -here inflict it upon you; you have no one but yourself to -blame, for praising the two stanzas (?) that I told you so -much;—</p> - -<p>(<em>Here follows the poem.</em>)</p> - -<p>"Pray write soon—you may direct as usual to College, -and it will follow me to the country. Give my love to -Armstrong, and believe me, my dear John, ever yours,</p> - -<p class="center">(Signed) C<span class="smcapa">HARLES</span> W<span class="smcapa">OLFE</span>."</p></blockquote> - -<p>This is addressed—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> T<span class="smcapa">AYLOR</span>, E<span class="smcapa">SQ</span>.,</div> - <div class="i2">At the Rev. Mr. Armstrong's,</div> - <div class="i4">Clonoulty,</div> - <div class="i6">Cashel."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">Date of postmark, Se, 6, 1816.</p> - -<p>The handwriting is small, neat, and clear, -and there is only one slight verbal correction, -which occurs in the last verse; in verses 3 and 4 -a few end words have been torn off by the seal.</p> - -<p>There is a postscript, as it has no reference, -however, to the poem, it is needless to reprint it.</p> - -<p class="center">———♦———</p> - - - - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_HOOD" id="THOMAS_HOOD"></a>Thomas Hood.</h2> - -<p class="p6">1798—MAY 3, 1845.</p> - - -<p>In Hood's poems a rare blending is found of -wit, fancy, humour and pathos; and as his personal -character was amiable, gentle and good, -his memory is cherished by Englishmen with -peculiar affection and respect.</p> - -<p>Thomas Hood was born in London, and was -the son of a member of the then well-known -firm of booksellers, Vernor, Hood, and Sharp.</p> - -<p>Hood was intended for an engraver, and -although he soon deserted that profession, he -acquired a sufficient knowledge of it to enable -him to illustrate his own works, which he did in -a quaintly comical manner. His sketches, -though generally crude and inartistic, admirably -explain his meaning, and never certainly did -puns find such a prolific, and humourous, pictorial -exponent as Hood.</p> - -<p>Hood's eldest son (Thomas Hood the younger) -was also the author of several novels and -some humourous poetry. He was for many -years editor of <em>Fun</em>.</p> - -<p>Of Hood's poems the four most usually selected -for parody and imitation are, <em>The Song of the Shirt;</em> -<em>The Bridge of Sighs;</em> <em>The Dream of Eugene Aram;</em> -and a pretty little piece entitled <em>I remember, I -remember</em>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is a somewhat curious fact that one of the -most earnest and pathetic of Hood's poems should -first have appeared in <em>Punch</em>. <em>The Song of the -Shirt</em> will be found on page 260 of vol. 5, 1843, -of that journal.</p> - -<p>This dirge of misery awoke universal pity for -the poor victims of the slop-sellers and ready-made -clothiers; but like most of the spasmodic -outbursts of British rage and indignation little -permanent good resulted from it. The machinists, -and unattached out-door employés of -the London tailors, are probably worse off now -than ever they were in Hood's time.</p> - -<p>As might have been expected from the wonderful -popularity of <em>The Song of the Shirt</em> and its -peculiarly catching rhythm, it has been the -subject of almost innumerable parodies, and has -also served as the model for many imitations of -a serious nature.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">RIALS AND</span> T<span class="smcapa">ROUBLES OF A</span> T<span class="smcapa">OURIST</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In clothes, both muddy and wet,</div> - <div class="i1">Without hat—left on the fell;</div> - <div class="i0">A pedestrian sought, with a tottering gait,</div> - <div class="i1">Refreshment at this hotel.</div> - <div class="i0">He'd walked a long and weary way,</div> - <div class="i1">O'er mountain-top and moor;</div> - <div class="i0">And thus he mused, mid'st wind and rain,</div> - <div class="i1">As he approached the door.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">First climbing hills, and then down</div> - <div class="i0">Where the people are not to be seen,</div> - <div class="i1">Many miles from village or town.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! haven't I been a dupe,</div> - <div class="i1">Pedestrian pleasure to seek,</div> - <div class="i0">When so quiet I might have stayed</div> - <div class="i1">At Redcar all the week."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">With my boots fast breaking up,</div> - <div class="i0">And walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">Without either bite or sup.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! that again I was at home,</div> - <div class="i1">To feel as I used to feel,</div> - <div class="i0">And not as now, in hunger and thirst,</div> - <div class="i1">With a doubly-blistered heel."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">Up to the knee in bog,</div> - <div class="i0">And loudly call, 'Lost! Lost!'</div> - <div class="i1">Surrounded by clouds and fog.</div> - <div class="i0">I walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">Till my head begins to spin;</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! that I ne'er had scrambled out</div> - <div class="i1">The stream I tumbled in."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">With cheeks all swollen and red;</div> - <div class="i0">A nasty aching within my ears,</div> - <div class="i1">Rheumatics in my head.</div> - <div class="i0">I walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">In trousers tattered and torn!</div> - <div class="i0">With every thread from foot to head</div> - <div class="i1">Quite soaked since early morn."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The day is fast wearing out,</div> - <div class="i1">And so are my boots and I;</div> - <div class="i0">The sleet blows in my face,</div> - <div class="i1">As with the breeze I sigh.</div> - <div class="i0">Although white fog I'm in,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet 'tis a dark look out</div> - <div class="i0">For one who hither has come for a change,</div> - <div class="i1">And cannot change a clout."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">And nothing can find to see;</div> - <div class="i0">While water and mud from out my boots</div> - <div class="i1">Is squirting up to each knee.</div> - <div class="i0">Talk of scenery! Bah! it's all stuff,</div> - <div class="i1">But the waterfall, I admit,</div> - <div class="i0">Is good, for it's running down my back,</div> - <div class="i1">And I've no dry place to sit."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">With my throat quite parched and dry;</div> - <div class="i0">No spirit to rouse my spirits up;</div> - <div class="i1">With pulse quite fevered and high.</div> - <div class="i0">I've a dropsy got outside,</div> - <div class="i1">Whilst inside there's a drought;</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! for a good warm draught within,</div> - <div class="i1">As a check to the draught without."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Walk! walk! walk!</div> - <div class="i1">I'll never come here again:</div> - <div class="i0">My holiday shall be spent elsewhere,</div> - <div class="i1">Free from fatigue and pain.</div> - <div class="i0">Or I'll stay at home with my wife,</div> - <div class="i1">Where a dry shirt I can wear;"—</div> - <div class="i0">And worn out with misfortune's strife,</div> - <div class="i0">And almost weary of his life,</div> - <div class="i1">He sank in the old arm chair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> R<span class="smcapa">EED</span> A<span class="smcapa">PPLETON</span>, F.S.A.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">PURT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> hands all blistered and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyes excited and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A boating man sat, in jersey and bags,</div> - <div class="i1">Awaiting the signal with dread.</div> - <div class="i0">Tug! tug! tug!</div> - <div class="i1">Every bone in his body is hurt;</div> - <div class="i0">And still, with a sigh and a dolorous shrug,</div> - <div class="i1">He sang the "Song of the Spurt!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">Till I shiver in every limb;</div> - <div class="i0">Work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">Till the eyes begin to swim</div> - <div class="i0">Steam, bucket, and pant,</div> - <div class="i1">Pant, bucket, and steam,</div> - <div class="i0">Till over the oar I almost faint,</div> - <div class="i1">And row along in a dream."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O, men, with sisters dear,</div> - <div class="i1">O, men, with pretty cousins,</div> - <div class="i0">I must mind and keep my form for the end—</div> - <div class="i1">They'll be there on the barge by dozens!</div> - <div class="i0">Pull! pull! pull!</div> - <div class="i1">What is poverty, hunger, or dirt,</div> - <div class="i0">Compared with the more than double dread</div> - <div class="i1">Of catching a crab in the spurt!"</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With eyes excited and red,</div> - <div class="i1">With good hope of victory fired,</div> - <div class="i0">He was rowing along in his jersey and bags,</div> - <div class="i1">But feeling uncommonly tired!</div> - <div class="i0">Pull! pull! pull!</div> - <div class="i1">He began his full powers to exert;</div> - <div class="i0">Soon his boat would have been at the head of the river,</div> - <div class="i0">But when just at the barge—an unfortunate shiver</div> - <div class="i1">Made him catch a crab in the spurt!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">R<span class="smcapa">EMEX</span> M<span class="smcapa">ORIBUNDUS</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>College Rhymes</em> (T. and G. Shrimpton), Oxford, 1865.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">RIPPING</span> S<span class="smcapa">HEET</span>.</h3> - -<p>"This sheet, wrung out of cold or tepid water, is thrown -around the body. Quick rubbing follows, succeeded by the -same operation with a dry sheet. Its operation is truly -<em>shocking</em>. Dress after to prevent remarks."</p> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">HEET</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>After Hood.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With nerves all shattered and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With shouts terrific and loud,</div> - <div class="i0">A patient stood in a cold wet sheet—</div> - <div class="i1">A Grindrod's patent shroud.</div> - <div class="i0">Wet, wet, wet,</div> - <div class="i1">In douche, and spray, and sleet,</div> - <div class="i0">And still, with a voice I shall never forget,</div> - <div class="i1">He sang the song of the sheet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Drip, drip, drip,</div> - <div class="i1">Dashing, and splashing, and dipping;</div> - <div class="i0">And drip, drip, drip,</div> - <div class="i1">Till your fat all melts to dripping.</div> - <div class="i0">It's oh, for dry deserts afar,</div> - <div class="i1">Or let me rather endure</div> - <div class="i0">Curing with salt in a family jar,</div> - <div class="i1">If this is the water cure.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Rub, rub, rub,</div> - <div class="i1">He'll rub away life and limb;</div> - <div class="i0">Rub, rub, rub,</div> - <div class="i1">It seems to be fun for him.</div> - <div class="i0">Sheeted from head to foot,</div> - <div class="i1">I'd rather be covered with dirt;</div> - <div class="i0">I'll give you the sheet and the blankets to boot,</div> - <div class="i1">If you'll only give me my shirt.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh men, with arms and hands;</div> - <div class="i1">Oh men, with legs and shins;</div> - <div class="i0">It is not the sheet you're wearing out,</div> - <div class="i1">But human creatures' skins.</div> - <div class="i0">Rub, rub, rub,</div> - <div class="i1">Body, and legs, and feet,</div> - <div class="i0">Rubbing at once with a double rub,</div> - <div class="i1">A skin as well as a sheet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"My wife will see me no more—</div> - <div class="i1">She'll see the bone of her bone</div> - <div class="i0">But never will see the flesh of her flesh,</div> - <div class="i1">For I'll have no flesh of my own:</div> - <div class="i0">The little that was my own,</div> - <div class="i1">They won't allow me to keep,</div> - <div class="i0">It's a pity that flesh should be so dear,</div> - <div class="i1">And water so very cheap.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Pack, pack, pack,</div> - <div class="i1">Whenever your spirit flags,</div> - <div class="i0">You're doomed by hydropathic laws</div> - <div class="i1">To be packed in cold wet rags:</div> - <div class="i0">Rolled up on bed or on floor—</div> - <div class="i1">Or sweated to death in a chair;</div> - <div class="i0">But my chairman's rank—my shadow I'd thank</div> - <div class="i1">For taking my place in there.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Slop, slop, slop,</div> - <div class="i1">Never a moment of time,</div> - <div class="i0">Slop, slop, slop,</div> - <div class="i1">Slackened like masons' lime;</div> - <div class="i0">Stand and freeze or steam—</div> - <div class="i1">Steam or freeze and stand;</div> - <div class="i0">I wish those friends had their tongues benumbed,</div> - <div class="i1">That told me to leave dry land.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Up, up, up,</div> - <div class="i1">In the morn before daylight,</div> - <div class="i0">The bathman cries, "Get up,"</div> - <div class="i1">(I wish he were up for a fight).</div> - <div class="i0">While underneath the eaves,</div> - <div class="i1">The dry, snug swallows cling,</div> - <div class="i0">But give them a cold wet sheet to their backs,</div> - <div class="i1">And see if they'll come next spring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! oh! it stops my breath,</div> - <div class="i1">(He calls it short and sweet),</div> - <div class="i0">Could they hear me underneath,</div> - <div class="i1">I'll shout them from the street!</div> - <div class="i0">He says that in half an hour</div> - <div class="i1">A different man I'll feel</div> - <div class="i0">That I'll jump half over the moon and want</div> - <div class="i1">To walk into a meal.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I feel more nerve and power,</div> - <div class="i1">And less of terror and grief;</div> - <div class="i0">I'm thinking now of love and hope—</div> - <div class="i1">And now of mutton and beef.</div> - <div class="i0">This glorious scene will rouse my heart,</div> - <div class="i1">Oh, who would lie in bed?</div> - <div class="i0">I cannot stop, but jump and hop;</div> - <div class="i1">Going like needle and thread."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With buoyant spirit upborne,</div> - <div class="i1">With cheeks both healthy and red;</div> - <div class="i0">The same man ran up the Malvern Crags,</div> - <div class="i1">Pitying those in bed.</div> - <div class="i0">Trip, trip, trip,</div> - <div class="i1">Oh, life with health is sweet;</div> - <div class="i0">And still in a voice both strong and quick,</div> - <div class="i0">Would that its tones could reach the sick,</div> - <div class="i1">He sang the Song of the Sheet.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From <em>Health and Pleasure, or Malvern Punch</em>. By -J. B. Oddfish, Esq., M.P., L.L.D. (Malvern Patient, Doctor of -Laughs and Liquids).</p> - -<p>Simpkin, Marshall and Co., London, 1865.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">TREET</span>.</h3> - -<p>(To the memory of the good, the genial, the large-hearted -Thomas Hood, this humble imitation of his "Song of the -Shirt" is inscribed by the writer).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With lips all livid with cold,</div> - <div class="i1">And purple and swollen feet,</div> - <div class="i0">A woman, in rags, sat crouch'd on the flags,</div> - <div class="i1">Singing the Song of the Street!</div> - <div class="i0">"Starve! starve! starve!</div> - <div class="i1">Oh, God! 'tis a fearful night!</div> - <div class="i0">How the wind does blow the sleet and the snow!</div> - <div class="i1">Will it ever again be light?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I have rung at the 'Refuge' bell,</div> - <div class="i1">I have beat at the workhouse-door,</div> - <div class="i0">To be told again that I clamour in vain,</div> - <div class="i1">They are full—they can hold no more.</div> - <div class="i2">Starve! starve! starve!</div> - <div class="i0">Of the crowds that pass me by,</div> - <div class="i1">Some with pity, and some in pride,</div> - <div class="i0">But more with indifference turn aside,</div> - <div class="i1">And leave me here to die!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! you that sleep in beds,</div> - <div class="i1">With coverlet, quilt, and sheet,</div> - <div class="i0">Oh think when it snows what it is for those</div> - <div class="i1">That lie in the open street:</div> - <div class="i1">That lie in the open street,</div> - <div class="i0">On the cold and frozen stones,</div> - <div class="i1">When the winter's blast, as it whistles past,</div> - <div class="i0">Bites into the very bones.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! what with the wind without,</div> - <div class="i1">And what with the cold within,</div> - <div class="i0">I own I have sought to drive away thought</div> - <div class="i1">With that curse of the tempted—gin.</div> - <div class="i2">Drink! drink! drink!</div> - <div class="i0">Amid ribaldry, gas, and glare.</div> - <div class="i1">If there's hell on earth,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis the ghastly mirth</div> - <div class="i0">That maddens at midnight, there.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh you, that never have stray'd,</div> - <div class="i1">Because you have not been tried,</div> - <div class="i0">Oh look not down with a Pharisee's frown</div> - <div class="i1">On those that have swerv'd aside.</div> - <div class="i0">And you that hold the scales,</div> - <div class="i1">And you that glibly urge</div> - <div class="i0">That the only plan is the Prison van,</div> - <div class="i1">The Treadmill, or the Scourge.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh, what are the lost to do?</div> - <div class="i1">To famish, and not to feel?</div> - <div class="i0">For days to go, and never to know</div> - <div class="i1">What it is to have one meal?</div> - <div class="i0">They cannot buy, they dare not beg,</div> - <div class="i1">They must either starve or steal.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"Food—food—food!</div> - <div class="i0">If it be but a loaf of bread,</div> - <div class="i1">And a place to lie—</div> - <div class="i1">And a place to die,</div> - <div class="i0">If it be but a workhouse bed!</div> - <div class="i1">If you will not give to those that live,</div> - <div class="i0">You at least <em>must</em> bury the dead!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With lips all livid and blue,</div> - <div class="i1">And purple and swoll'n feet,</div> - <div class="i0">A woman, in rags, sat crouch'd on the flags,</div> - <div class="i1">And sang the Song of the Street.</div> - <div class="i0">As she ceased the doleful strain,</div> - <div class="i1">My homeward path I trod;</div> - <div class="i0">And the cry and the prayer,</div> - <div class="i1">Of that lost one there</div> - <div class="i0">Went up to the Throne of God.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">W. H. B.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Standard</em>, February 16th, 1865.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">TUMP</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Stump—stump—stump—</div> - <div class="i1">Through market-place, pothouse, and dirt;</div> - <div class="i0">Stump—stump—stump—</div> - <div class="i1">With a greasy mob fast to his skirt;</div> - <div class="i0">Having changed his coat to secure their vote,</div> - <div class="i1">Mr. Gladstone now changes his shirt.</div> - <div class="i0">And if he but ends as he does begin,</div> - <div class="i0">There is little doubt he will change his skin,</div> - <div class="i1">On the stump—stump—stump.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Stump—stump—stump—</div> - <div class="i1">Through Ormskirk, St. Helen's and Newton,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst after him shout a rabble rout</div> - <div class="i1">Of electors "Ain't he a cute 'un?"</div> - <div class="i0">Stump—stump—stump—</div> - <div class="i1">With the aid of rhetorical steam,</div> - <div class="i0">Till over his speeches we fall asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">And hear him stump in a dream;</div> - <div class="i0">Stump—stump—stump—</div> - <div class="i1">For ever upon our ear.</div> - <div class="i0">Alas! that principle's so cheap,</div> - <div class="i1">And office is so dear!</div> - <div class="i0">Stump—stump—stump.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>The Tomahawk</em>, November, 1868.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">LIRT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> bosom weary and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids painted and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A lady, just from a Duchess's ball,</div> - <div class="i1">Sat on the side of her bed.</div> - <div class="i0">Her sapphires were gleaming and rich,</div> - <div class="i1">And faultless her lace and her skirt,</div> - <div class="i0">And yet with a voice of dolorous pitch,</div> - <div class="i1">She sang the "Song of the Flirt."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Flirt, flirt, flirt!</div> - <div class="i1">When the lunch is scarcely begun!</div> - <div class="i0">Flirt, flirt, flirt!</div> - <div class="i1">Till the sickening supper is done</div> - <div class="i0">Ball and dinner, and rout,</div> - <div class="i1">Rout, and dinner, and ball,</div> - <div class="i0">Till I long for my bed to rest my head,</div> - <div class="i1">And in a wakeless slumber to fall."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Flirt, flirt, flirt!</div> - <div class="i1">Till the room begins to swim;</div> - <div class="i0">Flirt, flirt, flirt,</div> - <div class="i1">Till the eyes are starting and dim:</div> - <div class="i0">Beam, and falsehood, and frown,</div> - <div class="i1">Frown, and falsehood, and beam,</div> - <div class="i0">Till over my lyings I fall asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">And flirt my fan in a dream!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Flirt, flirt, flirt!</div> - <div class="i1">My labour never ends;</div> - <div class="i0">And what are its wages? all true men's scorn,</div> - <div class="i1">And a dreary dearth of friends.</div> - <div class="i0">That shattered life—and this broken heart—</div> - <div class="i1">And yon smile that shrines a sneer;</div> - <div class="i0">And a house so blank, my cousin I thank</div> - <div class="i1">For sometimes calling here!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! but to scent the breath</div> - <div class="i1">Of an honest man on my brow—</div> - <div class="i0">To feel the throb of a worthy arm</div> - <div class="i1">Winding around me now;</div> - <div class="i0">For only one brief hour</div> - <div class="i1">To feel as the pure can feel,</div> - <div class="i0">To staunch with the power of hearty love</div> - <div class="i1">The wounds that refuse to heal!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> - <div class="i0">With bosom weary and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids painted and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A woman, fresh from a great duke's ball,</div> - <div class="i1">Knelt by the side of her bed.</div> - <div class="i0">Her rubies were ruddy and rich,</div> - <div class="i1">And perfect her bodice and skirt—</div> - <div class="i0">She looked like a splendid and tigerly witch,</div> - <div class="i0">And yet with a voice of dolorous pitch</div> - <div class="i1">She sang the "Song of the Flirt."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">F. C. W., Exeter College, Oxon.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>College Rhymes</em> (T. Shrimpton and Son), Oxford, 1872.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> W<span class="smcapa">IRE</span>.</h3> - - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With finger cunning and firm,</div> - <div class="i1">With one eye and a crooked back,</div> - <div class="i0">An old man, clad in an old pair of bags,</div> - <div class="i1">Was carving a profile in black.</div> - <div class="i0">Snip! snip! snip!</div> - <div class="i1">Cold, wet, or whatever the day,</div> - <div class="i0">And still, with a voice of a ludicrous crack,</div> - <div class="i1">He croaked the "Wirer's Lay."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Wire! wire! wire!</div> - <div class="i1">While men to their lectures fly,</div> - <div class="i0">And wire! wire! wire!</div> - <div class="i1">Where the Turl runs into the High!</div> - <div class="i0">It's O, to be the Vice,</div> - <div class="i1">Or a Prince in his cap and gown,</div> - <div class="i0">It's O, to be able to pay the price</div> - <div class="i1">To be stuck round my hat's old crown.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Wire! wire! wire!</div> - <div class="i1">Till the nose begins to be clear;</div> - <div class="i0">Wire! wire! wire!</div> - <div class="i1">Till the lips and the chin appear!</div> - <div class="i0">Hair and shoulder and brow,</div> - <div class="i1">Brow and shoulder and hair,</div> - <div class="i0">Till over the likeness I chuckle and wait</div> - <div class="i1">For a gent who's a moment to spare.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O, men, with sisters dear!</div> - <div class="i1">O, men, with mothers to please!</div> - <div class="i0">It is not for them my portraits are bought,</div> - <div class="i1">But for dearer far than these!</div> - <div class="i0">Snip! snip! snip!</div> - <div class="i1">With a point as keen as a dart,</div> - <div class="i0">Carving at once a likeness to suit,</div> - <div class="i1">And a place in the loved one's heart.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"But why do I talk of her?</div> - <div class="i1">The fair one of unknown name,</div> - <div class="i0">I hardly think she could tell the face,</div> - <div class="i1">They all seem much the same—</div> - <div class="i1">They all seem much the same,</div> - <div class="i0">Because of the types I keep;</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis odd that faces should be so like,</div> - <div class="i0">And yet I work them so cheap!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Wire! wire! wire!</div> - <div class="i1">My labour never flags;</div> - <div class="i0">And what are its wages? a copper or two,</div> - <div class="i1">Which I lose through the holes in my bags,</div> - <div class="i0">A nod of the head, or a passing joke,—</div> - <div class="i1">A laugh,—a freshman's stare,—</div> - <div class="i0">Or a gent so bland, when I ask him to stand</div> - <div class="i1">While I carve him his portrait there.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Wire! wire! wire!</div> - <div class="i1">In the sound of S. Mary's chimes,</div> - <div class="i0">Wire! wire! wire!</div> - <div class="i1">As specials wire to the <em>Times!</em></div> - <div class="i0">Hair, and shoulder, and brow,</div> - <div class="i1">Brow, and shoulder, and hair,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the trick is done, and I pocket the coin,</div> - <div class="i1">As I finish it off with care.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Wire! wire! wire!</div> - <div class="i1">In the dull month of Novem-</div> - <div class="i0">ber—wire! wire! wire,</div> - <div class="i1">When Oxford is bright with Commem.</div> - <div class="i0">While under light parasols,</div> - <div class="i1">The pretty girls slily glance,</div> - <div class="i0">As if to show how nice they would look</div> - <div class="i1">If they'd only give me a chance.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! but to catch that face</div> - <div class="i1">Which health and beauty deck—</div> - <div class="i0">That hat posed on her head,</div> - <div class="i1">And the curl that falls on her neck;</div> - <div class="i0">For only a minute or two</div> - <div class="i1">To sketch as I could when I tried</div> - <div class="i0">To take off the Vice as he passed one day,</div> - <div class="i1">And the Prince in my hat by his side.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! but for a minute or two!</div> - <div class="i1">A moment which soon will have gone!</div> - <div class="i0">No blessed second for fair or brunette,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor even to copy a don!</div> - <div class="i0">A little sketching would bring some brass,</div> - <div class="i1">But in its musty case,</div> - <div class="i0">My scissors must lie, for I have but one eye</div> - <div class="i1">With which to look out for a face!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With finger cunning and firm,</div> - <div class="i1">With one eye and a crooked back,</div> - <div class="i0">An old man clad in an old pair of bags,</div> - <div class="i1">Was carving a profile in black.</div> - <div class="i2">Snip! snip! snip!</div> - <div class="i0">Cold, wet, or whatever the day,</div> - <div class="i1">And, still with a voice of a ludicrous crack,</div> - <div class="i1">Would I could describe its cadaverous knack—</div> - <div class="i0">He croaked the "Wirer's Lay."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">A<span class="smcapa">RTHUR</span>-<span class="smcapa">A</span>-B<span class="smcapa">LAND</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This parody appeared in <em>The Shotover Papers</em> -for May, 1874 (J. Vincent, High Street, Oxford), -it will certainly appeal more to old Oxford men, -from its allusions, than to the general reader.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">OVE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> bosom weary and sad,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids heavy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A maiden sat, in maidenly grace,</div> - <div class="i1">Thinking o'er pleasures dead.</div> - <div class="i0">Sigh! sigh! sigh!</div> - <div class="i1">In misery, sorrow, and tears,</div> - <div class="i0">She sang, in a voice of melody,</div> - <div class="i1">The plaintive song of her fears.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Love! love! love!</div> - <div class="i1">Whilst the birds are waking from rest;</div> - <div class="i0">And love! love! love!</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> - <div class="i1">Till the sun sinks in the west;</div> - <div class="i0">It's oh! to be in the grave,</div> - <div class="i1">Where hope's false dream is not,</div> - <div class="i0">Where doubts ne'er rise to bedim the eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">If this is woman's lot!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here follow nine more verses in an equally -plaintive style, and of no particular interest.</p> - -<p class="center">From <em>The Figaro</em>, February 28, 1874.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> C<span class="smcapa">RAM</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With fingers trembling and warm,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids heavy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A schoolboy sat, in true schoolboy style,</div> - <div class="i1">His hand supporting his head.</div> - <div class="i0">Throb! throb! throb!</div> - <div class="i1">With frantic excitement and dread,</div> - <div class="i0">And still with a look of dolor and pain,</div> - <div class="i1">He sat on the side of his bed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Throb! throb! throb!</div> - <div class="i1">In my chamber next the roof;</div> - <div class="i0">And work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">From my friends I must keep aloof;</div> - <div class="i0">French and German and Greek,</div> - <div class="i1">Greek and German and French,</div> - <div class="i0">Till my brow grows damp, and my breath comes hard,</div> - <div class="i1">And my agonised hands I clench.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">While my cousins are laughing beneath,</div> - <div class="i0">And work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">Till I scarcely can draw my breath;</div> - <div class="i0">It's oh! to prepare! prepare!</div> - <div class="i1">My head with knowledge to cram,</div> - <div class="i0">Not a word to say! not a moment to spare!</div> - <div class="i1">I'm going in for Exam!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">Till the brain begins to swim,</div> - <div class="i0">And work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">Till my eyes are heavy and dim;</div> - <div class="i0">Greek and German and French,</div> - <div class="i1">French and German and Greek,</div> - <div class="i0">Till over the problems I have a nap,</div> - <div class="i1">And work them out in my sleep.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Throb! throb! throb!</div> - <div class="i1">My courage is ebbing fast!</div> - <div class="i0">Work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">I fear that my brain won't last!</div> - <div class="i0">Throb! throb! throb!</div> - <div class="i1">O come and help me cram!</div> - <div class="i0">I'm going to be a lunatic,</div> - <div class="i1">If plucked in this Exam!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O men with cousins dear!</div> - <div class="i1">O men with mothers and wives!</div> - <div class="i0">I'd cram you, if I had you here,</div> - <div class="i1">Within an inch of your lives!</div> - <div class="i0">But Examiners' hearts are hard,</div> - <div class="i1">And their wisdom is but a sham;</div> - <div class="i0">And little they care what we have to bear,</div> - <div class="i1">Or how hard we need to cram!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! but to play a game</div> - <div class="i1">With my happy friends below!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! but to make a pun,</div> - <div class="i1">Or try—but 'tis all 'no go'—</div> - <div class="i0">So they for me may wish,</div> - <div class="i1">But I must stay and cram;</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, bother it! I'm just 'done up'</div> - <div class="i1">With this horrible Exam!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With fingers trembling and warm,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids heavy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A schoolboy sat in true schoolboy style,</div> - <div class="i1">His hand supporting his head.</div> - <div class="i0">Throb! throb! throb!</div> - <div class="i1">And cram! cram! cram!</div> - <div class="i0">And still with a look of dolor and pain,</div> - <div class="i0">He studied and crammed with might and main,</div> - <div class="i1">To pass the dreaded Exam!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i11">A. P.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>The Dunheved Mirror</em>, Cornwall, December, 1876.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">LAVE OF THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">EN</span>.</h3> - - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With fingers inky and cold,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids heavy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A scribbler sat through the dreary night,</div> - <div class="i1">Spinning "Copy," at morn to be read.</div> - <div class="i0">Scratch! scratch! scratch!</div> - <div class="i0">In a gas-lighted steamy den,</div> - <div class="i1">And still, in a voice of dolorous pitch,</div> - <div class="i0">He sang the song of the pen.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Scratch! scratch! scratch!</div> - <div class="i1">While engines are shaking the roof;</div> - <div class="i0">Scratch! scratch! scratch!</div> - <div class="i1">Till the "Devil" appears with a proof.</div> - <div class="i0">And it's oh! to be a slave</div> - <div class="i1">Of the pen, whether steel or quill,</div> - <div class="i0">Is as bad as being a worthless knave</div> - <div class="i1">Doing his month at the 'mill.'</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Scratch! scratch! scratch!</div> - <div class="i1">Is it farce or tragedy grim,</div> - <div class="i0">Making up the requisite batch,</div> - <div class="i1">With fact, and fancy, and whim?</div> - <div class="i0">It fritters away my life,</div> - <div class="i1">In the flow of this inky stream.</div> - <div class="i0">And over the copy I fall asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">And punctuate in a dream."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! husband with slippered feet;</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! wife in morning gown:</div> - <div class="i0">Coming down to breakfast, pleased to read</div> - <div class="i1">The latest news of the town—</div> - <div class="i0">Think of the dismal scratch</div> - <div class="i1">Of these midnight slaves of the pen.</div> - <div class="i0">Forgive them a caustic, or feeble phrase,</div> - <div class="i1">And remember they are but men.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Funny Folks</em>, January 9th, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">WORD</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Weary, and wounded, and worn, wounded and ready to die,</div> - <div class="i0">A soldier they left, all alone and forlorn, on the field of the battle to lie.</div> - <div class="i0">The dead and the dying alone could their presence and pity afford,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst, with a sad and terrible tone, he sang ... the Song of the Sword.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> - <div class="i0">"Fight—fight—fight! though a thousand fathers die;</div> - <div class="i0">Fight—fight—fight! though a thousand children cry!</div> - <div class="i0">Fight—fight—fight! while mothers and wives lament;</div> - <div class="i0">And fight—fight—fight! while millions of money are spent.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Fight—fight—fight! should the cause be foul or fair,</div> - <div class="i0">Though all that's gained is an empty name, and a tax too great to bear;</div> - <div class="i0">An empty name, and a paltry fame, and thousands lying dead;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst every glorious victory must raise the price of bread.</div> - <div class="i0">War—war—war! fire, and famine, and sword;</div> - <div class="i0">Desolate fields and desolate towns, and thousands scattered abroad,</div> - <div class="i0">With never a home, and never a shed, whilst kingdoms perish and fall;</div> - <div class="i0">And hundreds of thousands are lying dead, ... and all for nothing at all!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"War—war—war! musket, and powder, and ball—</div> - <div class="i0">Ah! what do we fight so for? ah! why have we battles at all?</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis Justice must be done, they say, the nation's honour to keep;</div> - <div class="i0">Alas! that Justice should be so dear, and human life so cheap!</div> - <div class="i0">War—war—war! misery, murder, and crime;</div> - <div class="i0">Are all the blessings I've seen in thee, from my youth to the present time.</div> - <div class="i0">Misery, murder, and crime—crime, misery, murder, and woe;</div> - <div class="i0">Ah! would I had known in my younger days half the horrors which now I know."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Weary, and wounded, and worn, wounded and ready to die,</div> - <div class="i0">A soldier they left, all alone and forlorn, on the field of the battle to lie.</div> - <div class="i0">The dead and the dying alone could their presence and pity afford,</div> - <div class="i0">And thus with a sad and a terrible tone (oh! would that these truths were more perfectly known!) he sang the Song of the Sword.</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">A<span class="smcapa">NONYMOUS</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF A</span> S<span class="smcapa">OT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">Words composed by Bro. J. B. Davies, P.M. (753).</p> - -<p class="center"><em>Dedicated to George Cruikshank, Esq., by his kind permission.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With a visage pale and wan,</div> - <div class="i1">With a vacant stare of eye;</div> - <div class="i0">The wreck of a man, and a friend, I saw,</div> - <div class="i1">In a tavern standing by.</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Was the demon that urged him on;</div> - <div class="i0">And yet still with a husky voice did he call</div> - <div class="i1">For drink, till "his pence were gone."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">From morning until night!</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">By the glare of bright gaslight.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! fearful sight to see,</div> - <div class="i1">And a dreadful thought to think,</div> - <div class="i0">That man, who should rule, a slave should be</div> - <div class="i1">To that fearful demon, drink.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Till power of sense is gone,</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Till it's of health and wealth both shorn;</div> - <div class="i0">Beer, brandy, gin and rum,</div> - <div class="i1">Rum, brandy, gin and beer,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the glorious form of manhood's lost</div> - <div class="i1">In the beast that you now appear!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! men with thoughtful minds,</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! men with a reason fair,</div> - <div class="i0">Tread not in the paths that drunkards go—</div> - <div class="i1">From demon drink, stand clear.</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Both in slums and great highway,</div> - <div class="i0">Is a curse that we too often meet</div> - <div class="i1">In our walks by night or day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But why do I thus depict</div> - <div class="i1">That fell demon of the soul?</div> - <div class="i0">I do but so that my fellow men</div> - <div class="i1">Themselves from drink control.</div> - <div class="i0">Themselves from drink control,</div> - <div class="i1">Because of the scenes we see!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, God! to think that man should seek</div> - <div class="i1">In drink his misery!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">But soon the time will come,</div> - <div class="i0">And what will be the end? a soul that's lost,</div> - <div class="i1">A drunkard's wretched home</div> - <div class="i0">Where sorrow is found, and mark the cost—</div> - <div class="i1">Neither victuals, fire, or light</div> - <div class="i0">With a starving wife near the close of life</div> - <div class="i1">To meet the drunkard's sight!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">From morning until night,</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis the drunkard's sole delight.</div> - <div class="i0">Beer, brandy, gin, and rum,</div> - <div class="i1">Rum, brandy, gin, and beer,</div> - <div class="i0">Till his health is gone and his wealth as well,</div> - <div class="i1">For the demon nought will spare.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">In mansion as well as in cot,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">With the highest and lowest sot;</div> - <div class="i0">While toiling thousands sleep</div> - <div class="i1">Their rest of calm content,</div> - <div class="i0">In gilded palaces round about,</div> - <div class="i1">The night's in riot spent.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! that the world would shun,</div> - <div class="i1">That demon in form of drink;</div> - <div class="i0">And would reason within themselves</div> - <div class="i1">And from its presence shrink!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! how might the soul of wayward man,</div> - <div class="i1">Rejoice in freedom then—</div> - <div class="i0">And be better far in health and wealth—</div> - <div class="i1">And better far as men.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! but that men would see,</div> - <div class="i1">The sorrow that drink entails!</div> - <div class="i0">The orphan's cry and the madman's shout,</div> - <div class="i1">As well the widow's wails.</div> - <div class="i0">A curse to body, as well as soul,</div> - <div class="i1">Sends thousands to their grave;</div> - <div class="i0">And makes of Man, God's noblest work,</div> - <div class="i1">A low dejected slave.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> "T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">ASE</span>."</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Reminiscence of the late <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Ssssion'">Session</ins></em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With spirits drooping and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids heavy as lead,</div> - <div class="i0">The members sat on their seats in the House,</div> - <div class="i1">And wearily longed for bed;</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> - <div class="i0">While "Tich, Tich, Tich,"</div> - <div class="i1">With gruesome and long-drawn face,</div> - <div class="i0">"The Doctor," with voice of dolorous pitch,</div> - <div class="i1">Sang the Song of "the Case."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Tich, Tich, Tich,</div> - <div class="i1">In spite of all reproof;</div> - <div class="i0">And Tich, Tich, Tich,</div> - <div class="i1">Though the members stand aloof,</div> - <div class="i0">It's I that ought to be classed</div> - <div class="i1">Along with Chatham and Burke,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'll never cease to raise my voice</div> - <div class="i1">Against such monstrous work!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Tich, Tich, Tich,</div> - <div class="i1">Till the brain begins to swim,</div> - <div class="i0">Tich, Tich, Tich,</div> - <div class="i1">Till their eyes are heavy and dim.</div> - <div class="i0">Stream, and minnow, and twitch,</div> - <div class="i1">Minnow, and twitch, and stream,</div> - <div class="i0">Till over the <em>tattoo</em> they fall asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">And see it done in a dream."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O, men, so callous and blind—</div> - <div class="i1">O, men, so bloated and rich—</div> - <div class="i0">It isn't Orton you're locking up,</div> - <div class="i1">But the real and only 'Tich!'</div> - <div class="i0">Tich, Tich, Tich,</div> - <div class="i1">'Prison'd, dishonour'd, opprest,</div> - <div class="i0">Stitching at once with his sewing-machine,</div> - <div class="i1">A shroud as well as a vest."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">(<em>Four verses omitted here.</em>)</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With spirits drooping and worn.</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids as heavy as lead,</div> - <div class="i0">The members sat in their place in the House,</div> - <div class="i1">And wearily longed for bed;</div> - <div class="i0">While Tich, Tich, Tich,</div> - <div class="i1">With gruesome and long-drawn face,</div> - <div class="i0">"The Doctor," with voice of dolorous pitch,</div> - <div class="i0">(Ah me! to have to listen to sich),</div> - <div class="i1">Sang the Song of "the Case."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6"><em>Funny Folks</em>, October 2nd, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> T<span class="smcapa">URK IN</span> 1877.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> arguments tattered and worn,</div> - <div class="i0">With facts long torn to a shred,</div> - <div class="i0">The statesman rose in eloquent rage</div> - <div class="i0">To ply his political trade.</div> - <div class="i0">Stump, stump, stump,</div> - <div class="i0">Is this the successor of Burke,</div> - <div class="i0">Who, with a voice of dolorous pitch,</div> - <div class="i0">Still sings his song of the Turk?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Turk, Turk, Turk!</div> - <div class="i0">While the Czar is biting the dust.</div> - <div class="i0">And Turk, Turk, Turk,</div> - <div class="i0">The incarnation of lust.</div> - <div class="i0">It's O to be a slave,</div> - <div class="i0">Along with the barbarous Turk,</div> - <div class="i0">Where women have never a soul to save,</div> - <div class="i0">And only a body for—work!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Turk, Turk, Turk!</div> - <div class="i0">Till the brain begins to swim.</div> - <div class="i0">Turk, Turk, Turk,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the audience is eager and grim.</div> - <div class="i0">Rape, and outrage, and murder,</div> - <div class="i0">And outrage, murder, and rape,</div> - <div class="i0">Till stories, long since disproved, appear</div> - <div class="i0">To assume a bodily shape.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O, men, with sisters dear!</div> - <div class="i0">O, men, with mothers and wives!</div> - <div class="i0">These are things that are wearing away</div> - <div class="i0">Bulgarian Christian lives.</div> - <div class="i0">Stump, stump, stump,</div> - <div class="i0">It's not uncongenial work,</div> - <div class="i0">To be damning away, with a double tongue,</div> - <div class="i0">The Tory as well as the Turk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Turk, Turk, Turk!</div> - <div class="i0">My labour never flags,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet, what are its wages? A Nottingham feast,</div> - <div class="i0">And a suit of political rags,</div> - <div class="i0">A broken party, a shattered name,</div> - <div class="i0">A smile from the "Daily News,"</div> - <div class="i0">A bloody war, and a future so blank</div> - <div class="i0">That my mind the thought eschews.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Turk, Turk, Turk!</div> - <div class="i0">On the chill October night,</div> - <div class="i0">And Turk, Turk, Turk,</div> - <div class="i0">When the weather is warm and bright.</div> - <div class="i0">And yet, underneath the theme</div> - <div class="i0">A longing for power lurks.</div> - <div class="i0">So the people of England show me their backs,</div> - <div class="i0">And twit me about my Turks.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, but to breathe the air</div> - <div class="i0">Of the Treasury Bench so sweet,</div> - <div class="i0">With never a soul above my head,</div> - <div class="i0">And Lord Beaconsfield under my feet!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, but for one short hour,</div> - <div class="i0">To feel as I used to feel,</div> - <div class="i0">When the Liberal Government was in power,</div> - <div class="i0">And I was the man at the wheel!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, but for one short hour!</div> - <div class="i0">A period however brief!—</div> - <div class="i0">No blessed leisure for Power or Hope,</div> - <div class="i0">But only time for grief!</div> - <div class="i0">A little writing eases my mind—</div> - <div class="i0">A pamphlet, a postcard, a note—</div> - <div class="i0">Yet my pen must stop, for each hot ink-drop</div> - <div class="i0">May cost my party a vote.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With statements tattered and worn,</div> - <div class="i0">With facts distorted and cooked,</div> - <div class="i0">The statesman may hope that his share in the war</div> - <div class="i0">Will perchance be overlooked,</div> - <div class="i0">Turk, Turk, Turk!</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis vain the truth to shirk,</div> - <div class="i0">While thousands of bleeding corpses cry,</div> - <div class="i0">"Your pamphlets and speeches have made us die,</div> - <div class="i0">And we hope you are proud of your work."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3"><em>They are Five</em>, by W. E. G. (David Bogue), London.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">LIRT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Hood's Own—for Somebody Else.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">N</span> the loudest things that are worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With her cheek a peculiar red,</div> - <div class="i0">A maiden sat, in a gentleman's vest,—</div> - <div class="i1">This one idea in her head:</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> - <div class="i0">To be stitched, stitched, stitched,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet a little more tight in her skirt,</div> - <div class="i0">The while, with her voice disdainfully pitched,</div> - <div class="i1">She sang the "Song of the Flirt!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Work, work, work.</div> - <div class="i1">In the broiling drive and row,</div> - <div class="i0">And work, work, work,</div> - <div class="i1">At the stifling crush and show.</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm so sick of it all,</div> - <div class="i1">That to-morrow I'd marry a Turk,</div> - <div class="i0">If he'd ask me—I would! For, after this,</div> - <div class="i1">Yes,—<em>that</em> would be Christian work!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Work, work, work,</div> - <div class="i1">On the lawn in the lazy shade;</div> - <div class="i0">Work, work, work,</div> - <div class="i1">In the blaze of the baked parade.</div> - <div class="i0">Tea, and tennis, and band,—</div> - <div class="i1">Band, and tennis, and tea:—</div> - <div class="i0">If I can but ogle an eldest son,</div> - <div class="i1">They're all the same to me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"You men, do you dare to sneer,</div> - <div class="i1">And point to your sisters and wives!—</div> - <div class="i0">Because they simper 'Not nice, my dear;'—</div> - <div class="i1">As if they had ne'er in their lives</div> - <div class="i0">Been stitched, stitched, stitched,</div> - <div class="i1">Each prude in her own tight skirt,</div> - <div class="i0">And wouldn't have been, without a blush,</div> - <div class="i1">Had she had the chance—a <em>Flirt!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And why do I talk of a blush?</div> - <div class="i1">Have I much of Modesty known?</div> - <div class="i0">Why, no. Though, at times, her crimson cheek</div> - <div class="i1">Grows not unlike my own.</div> - <div class="i0">Yet strange that, not for my life,</div> - <div class="i1">Could I redden as she does, deep.</div> - <div class="i0">I wonder why colour called up's so dear,—</div> - <div class="i1">Laid on should come so cheap.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"But, work, work, work,</div> - <div class="i1">With powder, and puff, and pad:</div> - <div class="i0">And, work, work, work,</div> - <div class="i1">For every folly and fad!</div> - <div class="i0">With Imogen's artless gaze?</div> - <div class="i1">No?—Phryne's brazen stare!</div> - <div class="i0">With soul undone, but body made up,</div> - <div class="i1">I've all the fun of the fair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"So I work, work, work!</div> - <div class="i1">My labour never fags.</div> - <div class="i0">And what are its wages? A Spinster's doom,</div> - <div class="i1">And a place on the roll of hags.</div> - <div class="i0">Still I ogle away by the wall,—</div> - <div class="i1">A playful kittenish thing;</div> - <div class="i0">Autumn well written all over my face,</div> - <div class="i1">Though my feet have lost their spring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"So at times, when I'm out of breath,</div> - <div class="i1">And the men go off in a pack</div> - <div class="i0">To dangle about some chit just 'out,'—</div> - <div class="i1">Who smirks like a garrison hack,—</div> - <div class="i0">I try for a short half hour</div> - <div class="i1">To feel as I used to feel</div> - <div class="i0">When a girl, if my boldness was all assumed,</div> - <div class="i1">My hair, at least, was real.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And at times, for a short half hour,</div> - <div class="i1">It seems a sort of relief</div> - <div class="i0">To think of Fred, and the few bright days</div> - <div class="i1">Before he came to grief.</div> - <div class="i0">My work? May be! Had I a heart,</div> - <div class="i1">My tears might flow apace;</div> - <div class="i0">But tears must stop—when every drop</div> - <div class="i1">Would carry away one's face!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the loudest things that are known,</div> - <div class="i1">With her cheek a peculiar red,</div> - <div class="i0">A maiden sat, in a gentleman's vest,—</div> - <div class="i1">This one idea in her head:</div> - <div class="i0">To be stitched, stitched, stitched,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet a little more tight in her skirt;</div> - <div class="i0">The while with her voice disdainfully pitched</div> - <div class="i0">(Some ears at the sound, I wis, might have itched),</div> - <div class="i1">She sang the "Song of the Flirt!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Punch</em>, September 18, 1880.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> J<span class="smcapa">ANITOR'S</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With features sallow and grim,</div> - <div class="i1">With visage sadly forlorn,</div> - <div class="i0">The Janitor sat in the Janitor's room,</div> - <div class="i1">Weary, and sleepy, and worn.</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis a fact, fact, fact!</div> - <div class="i1">He sat with a visage long;</div> - <div class="i0">And still as he sat, with a voice half cracked,</div> - <div class="i1">He sang this Janitor's song:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Sweep, sweep, sweep,</div> - <div class="i1">In dirt, in smoke, and in dust,</div> - <div class="i0">And sweep, sweep, sweep,</div> - <div class="i1">Till I throw down my broom in disgust.</div> - <div class="i0">Stairs, and chapel, and halls,</div> - <div class="i1">Halls, and chapel, and stairs—</div> - <div class="i0">Till my drowsy head on my shoulder falls,</div> - <div class="i1">And sleep brings release from my cares."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"From the very first crack of the gong,</div> - <div class="i1">From the earliest gleam of daylight,</div> - <div class="i0">Day after day and all day long,</div> - <div class="i1">Far into the weary night,</div> - <div class="i0">It's sweep, sweep, sweep,</div> - <div class="i1">Till my broom doth a pillow seem;</div> - <div class="i0">Till over its handle I fall asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">And sweep away in my dream.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! students of high degree,</div> - <div class="i1">(I scorn to address a low fellow),</div> - <div class="i0">"Oh! seniors most reverend, potent, and grave,</div> - <div class="i1">(In the words of the great Othello),</div> - <div class="i0">My story's a sad one indeed,</div> - <div class="i1">Notwithstanding your laughter and sport;</div> - <div class="i0">My life is naught but a broken reed,</div> - <div class="i1">And my broom is my only support."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With features sallow and grim,</div> - <div class="i1">With visage sadly forlorn,</div> - <div class="i0">The Janitor sat in the Janitor's room,</div> - <div class="i1">Weary, and sleepy, and worn.</div> - <div class="i0">It's a fact, fact, fact,</div> - <div class="i1">He sat with a visage forlorn,</div> - <div class="i0">And still as he sat with a voice half cracked,</div> - <div class="i1">He sang the Janitor's song.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Carmina Collegensia.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">HIRK</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> a countenance weary and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids all heavy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">An Undergrad sat, in his nightgown torn,</div> - <div class="i1">Reading his Paley in bed.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">Till his voice is quite feeble and low,</div> - <div class="i0">He can read no more, so in accents poor,</div> - <div class="i1">He sang of the dire Littlego.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">While the Rooks are cawing around;</div> - <div class="i0">And read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">Till of Cabs I hear the sound.</div> - <div class="i0">If only last time I had passed,</div> - <div class="i1">And had left all this Littlego work,</div> - <div class="i0">I'd become a Jew or a "pious Hindoo,"</div> - <div class="i1">Or perhaps a barbarous Turk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">It's nothing but read all day;</div> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">Till I read myself away,</div> - <div class="i0">Paley and Euclid so hard,</div> - <div class="i1">Mathematics with Latin and Greek,</div> - <div class="i0">I only wish I had read them before,</div> - <div class="i1">For the Exam begins in a week.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O, men, who Examiners are,</div> - <div class="i1">Recollect when the period arrives</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis not only the <em>papers</em> you're setting this time,</div> - <div class="i1">But a <em>limit</em> to Undergrad's lives.</div> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">By days, by month, by year,</div> - <div class="i0">Reading forsooth so uncommonly hard,</div> - <div class="i1">That you feel excessively queer.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But why do I sing of them?</div> - <div class="i1">Their hearts are like pieces of stone,</div> - <div class="i0">I believe I ought to shun the thought</div> - <div class="i1">Of Examiners when I'm alone.</div> - <div class="i0">It makes me almost mad</div> - <div class="i1">To think of that awful sight;</div> - <div class="i0">O, dear, that to some the papers are stiff,</div> - <div class="i1">While to others they're easy and light.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">My reading will never stop;</div> - <div class="i0">And what's its reward? a name in a list,</div> - <div class="i1">Where the bottom's as good as the top.</div> - <div class="i0">This tumbled bed, with its shaky legs,</div> - <div class="i1">Yon room in disorder so great,</div> - <div class="i0">All attired with cards, tobacco, and wine,</div> - <div class="i1">It shows that I kept it up late.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">How full my time has been.</div> - <div class="i0">My reading I bless (?) for I possess</div> - <div class="i1">No leisure to read <em>Light Green</em>.</div> - <div class="i0">Hard Latin and odious Greek,</div> - <div class="i1">Hard Greek and odious Latin,</div> - <div class="i0">Their very dread makes me think this bed</div> - <div class="i1">Is the worst I ever sat in.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">Till my brain becomes infirm;</div> - <div class="i0">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i1">In this and the Lenten Term.</div> - <div class="i0">And then the men who have passed,</div> - <div class="i1">As I see them in the street,</div> - <div class="i0">Will laugh at me, and twit, and jeer,</div> - <div class="i1">Whenever them I meet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O, but to get through now—</div> - <div class="i1">A "Second" I would not mind,</div> - <div class="i0">With the "General" looming in front,</div> - <div class="i1">And the "Littlego" left behind.</div> - <div class="i0">Then to think of the feelings of those,</div> - <div class="i1">Who cannot these subjects acquire,</div> - <div class="i0">Is enough to give one the direst of woes</div> - <div class="i1">(Not to mention the wrath of your sire).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O, but for one short look</div> - <div class="i1">At the Euclid or Paley paper,</div> - <div class="i0">For one short glance, I soon would dance,</div> - <div class="i1">And cut about and caper.</div> - <div class="i0">A little peeping would ease my heart,</div> - <div class="i1">But from those papers hated,</div> - <div class="i0">My eyes must keep, for every peep</div> - <div class="i1">Might make me rusticated.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With a countenance weary and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With his nose, alas! awfully red,</div> - <div class="i0">The Undergrad blew out his candle's flame,</div> - <div class="i1">And settled himself in his bed.</div> - <div class="i0">"Read, read, read,"</div> - <div class="i1">In his troubled sleep he said.</div> - <div class="i0">Examiners think on his piteous face,</div> - <div class="i0">If he's plucked, you know 'tis your disgrace,</div> - <div class="i0">So in the "First" or "Second" place</div> - <div class="i0">The man who reads Paley in bed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">P. M. W.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>Light Green</em>, Cambridge (W. Metcalfe and Son), 1882.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ROOD ON THE</span> B<span class="smcapa">EARD</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With face like a maiden's bare,</div> - <div class="i1">With hair on his head strewn thin,</div> - <div class="i0">A youth ill at ease, in an easy chair,</div> - <div class="i1">Sat stroking his cheeks and chin.</div> - <div class="i2">Stroke, stroke, stroke,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet never a symptom appeared,</div> - <div class="i0">Indulging, yet nowise enjoying the joke,</div> - <div class="i1">In penning <span class="smcapa">THIS</span> Brood on the Beard.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">I wish, wish, wish,</div> - <div class="i1">Till wishing becomes a whirl,</div> - <div class="i2">Wish, wish, wish,</div> - <div class="i1">For the locks with a flowing curl.</div> - <div class="i2">Imperial, beard, moustache,</div> - <div class="i2">Moustache, imperial, beard,</div> - <div class="i0">I long for them each till the three become</div> - <div class="i1">Wove into a triad weird.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Young men with beards full grown,</div> - <div class="i1">Young men with moustaches neat;</div> - <div class="i0">Say, is it not your lot to own,</div> - <div class="i1">The joys of life complete?</div> - <div class="i2">I shave, shave, shave,</div> - <div class="i0">My cheeks with lather besmeared,</div> - <div class="i0">Scraping the skin with razor keen,</div> - <div class="i1">To make it utter a beard.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But why should I dream of beards,</div> - <div class="i1">For the pleasure of manhood pine;</div> - <div class="i0">Or think of the looks my soul so craves,</div> - <div class="i1">That never may be mine?</div> - <div class="i1">That never may be mine.</div> - <div class="i0">Tho' my heart with hope may pant,</div> - <div class="i0">And mourn that some with such are blest,</div> - <div class="i1">Whilst I of such am scant.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">I watch, watch, watch</div> - <div class="i0">My glass each morning and night;</div> - <div class="i1">Watch, watch, watch,</div> - <div class="i0">But no sprouting gladdens my sight.</div> - <div class="i0">That shaving glass, that razor keen,</div> - <div class="i1">That strop I so often whet;</div> - <div class="i0">Betray the desire that ne'er may tire</div> - <div class="i1">Of what I ne'er may get.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> - <div class="i1">I feel, feel, feel,</div> - <div class="i0">Each morning of each week—</div> - <div class="i1">Feel, feel, feel,</div> - <div class="i0">My lips, my chin, my cheek.</div> - <div class="i1">Moustache, imperial, beard,</div> - <div class="i1">Imperial, beard, moustache,</div> - <div class="i0">Could I but see signs of the three,</div> - <div class="i1">I would give good sterling cash.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">I rub, rub, rub,</div> - <div class="i0">When the shades of night set in,</div> - <div class="i1">Rub, rub, rub,</div> - <div class="i0">Pomatum o'er cheeks and chin,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst Tabby, with whiskers long,</div> - <div class="i1">Upon the hearthrug lies,</div> - <div class="i0">And seems to purr contentment for</div> - <div class="i1">What nature me denies.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! could I but only see</div> - <div class="i1">Just the faintest dawn of down,</div> - <div class="i0">Or <span class="smcapa">FANCY</span> that Nature would</div> - <div class="i1">In the end my wishes crown!</div> - <div class="i0">Or hope that even I</div> - <div class="i1">The hours at last will enjoy,</div> - <div class="i0">When maids no longer will deem me</div> - <div class="i1">An o'ergrown hobbledehoy.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But I to have glossy hair,</div> - <div class="i1">On my lips a flowing curl,</div> - <div class="i0">A pair of whiskers to grace my cheeks,</div> - <div class="i1">A moustache to turn and twirl,</div> - <div class="i0">Is but a dream, a gloomy gleam;</div> - <div class="i1">A wish without a hope,</div> - <div class="i0">Where fancy free may gain for me</div> - <div class="i1">Nothing <span class="smcapa">AT ALL</span> but scope.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With face like a maiden's bare,</div> - <div class="i1">With hair on his head strewn thin,</div> - <div class="i0">A youth ill at ease in an easy chair,</div> - <div class="i1">Sat stroking his cheeks and chin.</div> - <div class="i2">Stroke, stroke, stroke,</div> - <div class="i1">Till he glanced at T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">OUR</span>, and there was seen</div> - <div class="i0">A word that brought the news that he sought—</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas the famed P<span class="smcapa">ILOSAGINE</span>!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Old Advertisement.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> D<span class="smcapa">IRT</span>."</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>With Respectful Memories of Tom Hood.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With garments soddened and soiled,</div> - <div class="i1">With boot-tops covered in grime,</div> - <div class="i0">With trousers bespattered with foulest mud,</div> - <div class="i1">Picking one's way through the slime.</div> - <div class="i0">Slush—slush—slush!</div> - <div class="i1">And foul-smelling filth and dirt,</div> - <div class="i0">That clings like a kind of malodorous pitch—</div> - <div class="i1">I sing the "Song of the Dirt."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dirt—dirt—dirt!</div> - <div class="i1">In the January night,</div> - <div class="i0">And dirt—dirt—dirt!</div> - <div class="i1">While the weather is muggy though bright.</div> - <div class="i0">Smell, and slime, and reek,</div> - <div class="i1">Reek, and slime and smell;</div> - <div class="i0">Till over the kerbstone I fall and slip,</div> - <div class="i0">And smother myself as well.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O! but for one short hour!</div> - <div class="i1">A respite: 'twould be so sweet!</div> - <div class="i0">I'd bless the scavenger's shovel and broom,</div> - <div class="i1">If he'd clear the mud 'neath my feet.</div> - <div class="i0">For only one short hour,</div> - <div class="i1">To feel as I used to feel:</div> - <div class="i0">The pavement free from grease and slime</div> - <div class="i1">In my walk that's now an ordeal.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Funny Folks</em>, January, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">AIL OF A</span> P<span class="smcapa">ROOF-READER</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Made During a Fearful "Spell" of Weather by One of 'Em.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With fingers weary and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">And nose quite puffy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A Proof-reader sat in his old linen coat,</div> - <div class="i1">With a snorting "cold in 'is ead."</div> - <div class="i0">With handkerchief in his left,</div> - <div class="i1">And pen in his dexter paw,</div> - <div class="i0">The miserable man first blew his nose,</div> - <div class="i1">Then thus let loose his jaw:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i0">With tears rolling down from my eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i0">Till I can't tell l's from i's.</div> - <div class="i1">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i0">In pain, confusion, and noise,</div> - <div class="i1">And bored by a voice of dolorous pitch</div> - <div class="i0">Belonging to "one of the boys."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i0">In the story next to the roof:</div> - <div class="i1">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i0">Till my soul is lost in the proof.</div> - <div class="i1">It's oh to be a Hottentot</div> - <div class="i0">In the burning sand,</div> - <div class="i1">Where never an author sent a lot</div> - <div class="i1">Of manuscript the "devil" could not,</div> - <div class="i0">Nor the "reader" understand!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Read, read, read,</div> - <div class="i0">Till my weary spirits sink,</div> - <div class="i1">And mark, mark, mark,</div> - <div class="i0">While mind ebbs with the ink.</div> - <div class="i1">French, and Latin, and Greek!</div> - <div class="i0">Hebrew, Spanish, and Dutch!</div> - <div class="i1">Poring o'er all till my eyes grow weak,</div> - <div class="i1">And I seem to be, by Fancy's freak,</div> - <div class="i0">But a part of the pen I clutch.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Oh, but to "<span class="smcapa">DELE</span>" work!</div> - <div class="i0">To "transpose" toil for rest!</div> - <div class="i1">To "make up" life's remaining years</div> - <div class="i0">On smiling Nature's breast!</div> - <div class="i1">A "space" of time to join the "chase,"</div> - <div class="i0">Some "quoins" to see me through!</div> - <div class="i1">A good "fat take" of these I want,</div> - <div class="i0">But a few large "notes" <span class="smcapa">MIGHT</span> do.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Oh, for a brief respite</div> - <div class="i0">From toilsome pen and proof!</div> - <div class="i1">An "out," while I might calmly seek</div> - <div class="i0">A "double" who would share my roof;</div> - <div class="i1">The "sort" that could "correct" my "forme,"</div> - <div class="i0">And save me from life's many traps,</div> - <div class="i1">And round our "table" smiling "set"</div> - <div class="i0">Sweet "fat-faced" M<span class="smcapa">INIONS</span> in "<span class="smcapa">SMALL CAPS</span>!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">L. F. T<span class="smcapa">HOMAS</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2"><em>The British and Colonial Stationer</em>, May, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ITTER</span> C<span class="smcapa">RY</span>!</h3> - -<p>"Few persons have any conception of these pestilential -human rookeries where tens of thousands are crowded -together amidst horrors which call to mind the middle -passage of the slave ship."—[The Bitter Cry of Outcast -London.]</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wearily wandering into the winding</div> - <div class="i1">Maze of the filthy and festering slums,</div> - <div class="i0">Borne on the blast of the hurricane blinding,</div> - <div class="i1">Suddenly into my spirit there comes</div> - <div class="i0">Bitterest cry of the careworn and dying,</div> - <div class="i1">Weeping and wailing of old and of young—</div> - <div class="i0">Wailing of women aweary and sighing.</div> - <div class="i1">Heavenward? Hear the song that they sung:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">"Strive, strive, strive,</div> - <div class="i4">With the wolf at the door, in vain,</div> - <div class="i3">Tho' the struggle to keep alive</div> - <div class="i4">Is worse than a hell of pain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">Gin, gin, gin,</div> - <div class="i4">Our cares we'll drown once more;</div> - <div class="i3">'Tis but folly to shrink from the spirit of drink,</div> - <div class="i4">So, swig till our lives be o'er."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Fiercer than fathomless cry of the weepers,</div> - <div class="i1">Wilder than wailing of women and men,</div> - <div class="i0">Echoing ever a voice, "O ye sleepers,</div> - <div class="i1">Where is the harpy who owneth each den?</div> - <div class="i0">Where are the vultures who prey on the living?"</div> - <div class="i1">Pitiless dealers of wrong at each breath,</div> - <div class="i0">Shedders of blood who each moment are giving</div> - <div class="i1">Children and women and strong men to Death:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Here, here, here,"</div> - <div class="i1">Is the loud and bitter cry.</div> - <div class="i0">"Oh, heed our sob of fear,</div> - <div class="i1">And save us ere we die.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Rent, rent, rent,</div> - <div class="i1">Our cares we'll drown once more,</div> - <div class="i0">For there's nothing but gin when the bailiffs are in,</div> - <div class="i1">And the baby's dead on the floor."</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i11">G. B. B<span class="smcapa">URGIN</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">Ashley House, High Barnet, Herts, England.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>I R<span class="smcapa">EMEMBER</span>, I R<span class="smcapa">EMEMBER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">REMEMBER</span>, I remember,</div> - <div class="i0">The house where I was born,</div> - <div class="i0">The little window where the sun</div> - <div class="i0">Came peeping in at morn;</div> - <div class="i0">He never came a wink too soon,</div> - <div class="i0">Nor brought too long a day,</div> - <div class="i0">But now, I often wish the night</div> - <div class="i0">Had borne my breath away!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">T<span class="smcapa">OM</span> H<span class="smcapa">OOD</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>N<span class="smcapa">URSERY</span> R<span class="smcapa">EMINISCENCES</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">REMEMBER</span>, I remember,</div> - <div class="i1">When I was a little Boy,</div> - <div class="i0">One fine morning in September,</div> - <div class="i1">Uncle brought me home a toy.</div> - <div class="i0">I remember how he patted</div> - <div class="i1">Both my cheeks with kindliest mood;</div> - <div class="i0">"Then," said he, "you little fat head,</div> - <div class="i1">There's a top because you're good."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Grandmamma—a shrewd observer—</div> - <div class="i1">I remember gazed upon</div> - <div class="i0">My new top, and said with fervour,</div> - <div class="i1">"Oh! how kind of Uncle John!"</div> - <div class="i0">While mamma, my form caressing,—</div> - <div class="i1">In her eye the tear-drop stood,</div> - <div class="i0">Read me this fine moral lesson,</div> - <div class="i1">"See what comes of being good!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i1">On a wet and windy day.</div> - <div class="i0">One cold morning in December,</div> - <div class="i1">I stole out and went to play;</div> - <div class="i0">I remember Billy Hawkins</div> - <div class="i1">Came, and with his pewter squirt,</div> - <div class="i0">Squibb'd my pantaloons and stockings,</div> - <div class="i1">Till they were all over dirt!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To my mother for protection</div> - <div class="i1">I ran quaking every limb.</div> - <div class="i0">She exclaim'd, with fond affection,</div> - <div class="i1">"Gracious goodness! look at <em>him!</em>"</div> - <div class="i0">Pa cried when he saw my garment—</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas a newly-purchased dress—</div> - <div class="i0">"Oh! you nasty little <em>Warment</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">How came you in such a mess?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then he caught me by the collar—</div> - <div class="i1">Cruel only to be kind—</div> - <div class="i0">And to my exceeding dolour,</div> - <div class="i1">Gave me several slaps behind.</div> - <div class="i0">Grandmamma, while yet I smarted,</div> - <div class="i0">As she saw my evil plight,</div> - <div class="i1">Said—'twas rather stony-hearted—</div> - <div class="i0">"Little rascal! sarve him right!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i0">From that sad and solemn day,</div> - <div class="i1">Never more in dark December</div> - <div class="i0">Did I venture out to play.</div> - <div class="i1">And the moral which they taught, I</div> - <div class="i1">Well remember; thus they said—</div> - <div class="i0">"Little boys, when they are naughty,</div> - <div class="i1">Must be whipped, and sent to bed!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Ingoldsby Legends.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A correspondent, writing to <em>Notes and Queries</em> -as far back as June 10, 1871, mentions a parody, -of which, unfortunately, only the two verses -following are given:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i1">The day that I was born,</div> - <div class="i0">When first I saw this breathing world,</div> - <div class="i1">All naked and forlorn.</div> - <div class="i0">They wrapped me in a linen cloth,</div> - <div class="i1">And then in one of frieze;</div> - <div class="i0">And tho' I could not speak just then,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet I contrived to sneeze.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i1">Old ladies came from far;</div> - <div class="i0">Some said I was like mother dear,</div> - <div class="i1">But others thought like <em>par;</em></div> - <div class="i0">Yet all agreed I had a head,</div> - <div class="i1">And most expressive eyes;</div> - <div class="i0">The latter were about as large</div> - <div class="i1">As plums in Christmas pies."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i11">U<span class="smcapa">NEDA</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>Philadelphia.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A R<span class="smcapa">EMINISCENCE.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i1">The cell, which now I scorn.</div> - <div class="i0">The little window where no sun</div> - <div class="i1">Could cheer the dreary morn.</div> - <div class="i0">Policeman X. no wink too soon,</div> - <div class="i1">Brought in my musty fare,</div> - <div class="i0">And, growling as he went away,</div> - <div class="i1">Locked me in safely there!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i1">We'd been out late at night.</div> - <div class="i0">Twain heroes who, o'er sundry cups,</div> - <div class="i1">Wound up by "getting tight;"</div> - <div class="i0">And then, although no blood was spilt,</div> - <div class="i1">That fiend in blue we met;</div> - <div class="i0">"Run in" upon my natal day—</div> - <div class="i1">Oh, would I could forget.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i1">No soda would he bring,</div> - <div class="i0">He said the air seem'd rather fresh</div> - <div class="i1">For night birds on the wing!</div> - <div class="i0">The <em>spirits</em> needed <em>feathers</em> then,</div> - <div class="i1">And rest my fevered brow;</div> - <div class="i0">He only said, "The place is cool,"</div> - <div class="i1">And, "Mind! don't make a row!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Figaro</em>, March 7, 1874.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another parody of the same original appeared -in <em>The Figaro</em> for August 26, 1874. It was -entitled, "I Remember, I Remember, a reminiscence -of Child-Hood and Thomas Hood," and -consisted of four verses, but they are not now -of sufficient interest to be quoted.</p> - - -<h3>I R<span class="smcapa">EMEMBER</span>, I R<span class="smcapa">EMEMBER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">REMEMBER</span>, I remember,</div> - <div class="i0">When first I saw a rink,</div> - <div class="i0">How fine to be a skater,</div> - <div class="i0">I always used to think,</div> - <div class="i0">To roll about, both in and out,</div> - <div class="i0">Through all the livelong day,</div> - <div class="i0">But now I wish the rink and skates</div> - <div class="i0">Had been far, far away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i0">The skates that first I wore,</div> - <div class="i0">The joy I had in buying them,</div> - <div class="i0">That I shall have no more;</div> - <div class="i0">On being a great skater</div> - <div class="i0">My youthful heart was set—</div> - <div class="i0">Now the rink has gone the way of rinks;</div> - <div class="i0">The skates I have them yet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i0">When first I had a fall,</div> - <div class="i0">How hard I found the asphalte,</div> - <div class="i0">How loudly I did bawl;</div> - <div class="i0">There was anguish in my bosom,</div> - <div class="i0">There was fever on my brow,</div> - <div class="i0">There were bruises on my body—</div> - <div class="i0">I bear the traces now.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i0">How oft from school I'd beg;</div> - <div class="i0">But my rinking days were over.</div> - <div class="i0">When at last I broke my leg.</div> - <div class="i0">It was a foolish fancy,</div> - <div class="i0">And now 'tis little joy,</div> - <div class="i0">To know I broke my fibula,</div> - <div class="i0">When I was a little boy.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>Idyls of the Rink</em> (Judd and Co., London, 1876).</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIDGE OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IGHS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O<span class="smcapa">NE</span> more Unfortunate,</div> - <div class="i0">Weary of breath,</div> - <div class="i0">Rashly importunate,</div> - <div class="i0">Gone to her death!</div> - <div class="i0">Take her up tenderly,</div> - <div class="i0">Lift her with care;</div> - <div class="i0">Fashion'd so slenderly,</div> - <div class="i0">Young and so fair!</div> - <div class="i0">Loop up her tresses,</div> - <div class="i0">Escaped from the comb,</div> - <div class="i0">Her fair auburn tresses;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst wonderment guesses</div> - <div class="i0">Where was her home?</div> - <div class="i0">Alas! for the rarity</div> - <div class="i0">Of Christian charity</div> - <div class="i0">Under the sun!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! it was pitiful!</div> - <div class="i0">Near a whole city full—</div> - <div class="i0">Home she had none.</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i10">T<span class="smcapa">OM</span> H<span class="smcapa">OOD</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">NE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ORE</span> U<span class="smcapa">NFORTUNATE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">"A<span class="smcapa">TQUI SCIEBAT QUÆ SIBI</span> B<span class="smcapa">ARBARUS</span> T<span class="smcapa">ORTOR</span> P<span class="smcapa">ARARET</span>."</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O<span class="smcapa">NE</span> more unfortunate</div> - <div class="i1">Ploughed for degree,</div> - <div class="i0">By those importunate</div> - <div class="i1">Questioners three.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Tell it him gingerly,</div> - <div class="i1">Break it with care,</div> - <div class="i0">Think you he'll angry be?</div> - <div class="i1">Or will he swear?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">III.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Look at his college cap,</div> - <div class="i0">Bent with its broken flap,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst his hand constantly</div> - <div class="i1">Clutches his gown,</div> - <div class="i0">And he walks vacantly</div> - <div class="i1">Back through the town.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Didn't he study?</div> - <div class="i1">Wasn't he cute? or</div> - <div class="i0">Had he a coach? and</div> - <div class="i1">Who was his tutor?</div> - <div class="i0">Or was he a queerer one</div> - <div class="i0">Still, and had ne'er a one,</div> - <div class="i1">And all this the fruit? Or</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">V.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Was his brain muddled,</div> - <div class="i0">Addled and puddled,</div> - <div class="i1">From over-working?</div> - <div class="i0">Or did he all the day</div> - <div class="i0">Racquets and cricket play,</div> - <div class="i1">Books and dons shirking?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His Greek was a mystery,</div> - <div class="i0">So was his history,</div> - <div class="i1">His throbbing brain whirled,</div> - <div class="i0">And through his shaggy hair,</div> - <div class="i1">Both his hands twirled.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He goes at it boldly,</div> - <div class="i0">No matter how coldly</div> - <div class="i1">Examiners scan</div> - <div class="i0">Him over the table,</div> - <div class="i0">And say, "If you're able,</div> - <div class="i0">Construe it, man;</div> - <div class="i1">Look at it, think of it,</div> - <div class="i0">Do what you can."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Now they stare frigidly,</div> - <div class="i0">Calmly and rigidly,</div> - <div class="i0">Courteously, slily;</div> - <div class="i1">How well he knows them,</div> - <div class="i1">Who could suppose them</div> - <div class="i0">Witty and wily?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">IX.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Helplessly staring,</div> - <div class="i1">He looks at it long,</div> - <div class="i0">Then with the daring</div> - <div class="i0">Last look of despairing,</div> - <div class="i1">Construes it wrong.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">X.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Failing most signally,</div> - <div class="i0">Construing miserably;</div> - <div class="i0">Frequent false quantity,</div> - <div class="i0">But as they want it, he</div> - <div class="i1">Must do his best,</div> - <div class="i0">Until they tell him he</div> - <div class="i0">Need not decidedly</div> - <div class="i1">Construe the rest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">XI.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Full of urbanity</div> - <div class="i0">And inhumanity,</div> - <div class="i1">See what they've done;</div> - <div class="i2">Out of each couple,</div> - <div class="i2">They with tongues supple</div> - <div class="i1">Ploughed at least one.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Lays of Modern Oxford</em>, by Adon (Chapman and Hall, 1874).</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">AIR OF THE</span> D<span class="smcapa">EAD</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">P<span class="smcapa">ILE</span> it up,</div> - <div class="i2">Pile it up,</div> - <div class="i2">Till it towers above;</div> - <div class="i2">Pile it up,</div> - <div class="i2">Pile it up,</div> - <div class="i2">'Tis a labour of love:</div> - <div class="i2">Pin it so carefully,</div> - <div class="i2">Cannot be known</div> - <div class="i2">Of that temple of hair fully</div> - <div class="i2">Half's not your own.</div> - <div class="i2">That dark plaited mass,</div> - <div class="i2">So dear and so rare:</div> - <div class="i2">That highly-prized mass,</div> - <div class="i2">Is a dead woman's hair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Maybe she was poor,</div> - <div class="i0">With no money or purse;</div> - <div class="i0">Homeless and fasting,</div> - <div class="i0">A vagrant, or worse—</div> - <div class="i0">A sport for the wind,</div> - <div class="i1">As it listlessly blew,</div> - <div class="i1">And who from her kind,</div> - <div class="i1">No sympathy knew.</div> - <div class="i0">Who knows how she died?</div> - <div class="i0">Perchance of her life,</div> - <div class="i0">O'er burdened with strife,</div> - <div class="i0">She grew weary and cried—</div> - <div class="i0">"To death's awful mystery swift to be hurled</div> - <div class="i0">Anywhere, anywhere out of the world."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Then when the dark waters</div> - <div class="i2">Had closed o'er her head,</div> - <div class="i2">And this type of Eve's daughters</div> - <div class="i2">Was told with the dead;</div> - <div class="i2">Then when her poor body</div> - <div class="i2">Was borne by the wave</div> - <div class="i2">To the shore; they allowed her</div> - <div class="i2">A wanderer's grave.</div> - <div class="i2">Nor perfect, indeed,</div> - <div class="i2">Could she enter it there;</div> - <div class="i2">In their terrible greed</div> - <div class="i2">They must clip off her hair;</div> - <div class="i0">In their venomous greed</div> - <div class="i0">They must steal off her hair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">What do we care</div> - <div class="i2">That this long flowing curl,</div> - <div class="i2">Such a charm to a girl,</div> - <div class="i2">Is a dead woman's hair?</div> - <div class="i2">Our changeable sex,</div> - <div class="i2">Do as fashion directs;</div> - <div class="i2">And so long as the hair</div> - <div class="i2">Is a grace to the head,</div> - <div class="i2">So long will we wear</div> - <div class="i2">The locks of the dead.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Figaro</em>, May 5, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>(At that date ladies were wearing very large chignons).</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>On the occasion of an inebriated "swell" being -expelled from the Prince of Wales's Theatre, -by P. C. 22 Z.:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Take him up tendahly,</div> - <div class="i1">Lift him with caah;</div> - <div class="i0">Clothes are made slendahly</div> - <div class="i1">Now, and will taah!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Punch not that nob of his,</div> - <div class="i1">Thus I imploah;</div> - <div class="i0">Pick up that bob of his,</div> - <div class="i1">Dropped on the floah!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Pwaps he's a sister,</div> - <div class="i0">Pwaps he's a bwother,</div> - <div class="i1">Come to the play with him—</div> - <div class="i1">Let 'em away with him—</div> - <div class="i0">One or the other.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ram his hat lightly,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet firmly and tightly,</div> - <div class="i1">Ovah his head.</div> - <div class="i0">Turn his coat-collah back,</div> - <div class="i0">Get his half-dollah back.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">22 Z.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">INK OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IGHS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">One more unfortunate</div> - <div class="i0">Knocked out of breath—</div> - <div class="i0">"Rashly importunate,"</div> - <div class="i0">Jealousy saith.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lift her up tenderly—</div> - <div class="i0">Mind her back hair;</div> - <div class="i0">Fashioned so slenderly—</div> - <div class="i0">Fetch her a chair.</div> - <div class="i0">Burst are her garments,</div> - <div class="i0">Hanging in cerements,</div> - <div class="i0">While buttons constantly</div> - <div class="i0">Fall from her clothing.</div> - <div class="i0">Take her up instantly</div> - <div class="i0">Loving, not loathing;</div> - <div class="i0">Scornfully touch her not—</div> - <div class="i0">Think of the bump she got,</div> - <div class="i0">All through those wheels of hers</div> - <div class="i0">Which she used killingly;</div> - <div class="i0">And those high heels of hers—</div> - <div class="i0">Sat she unwillingly.</div> - <div class="i0">She in a mess is</div> - <div class="i0">All things betoken,</div> - <div class="i0">And spoilt her gay dress is,</div> - <div class="i0">While wonderment guesses:</div> - <div class="i0">"Are the bones broken?"</div> - <div class="i0">"Who is her milliner?"</div> - <div class="i0">"Has she a glover?—</div> - <div class="i0">P'raps a two-shilliner;"</div> - <div class="i0">"Or has she a dearer one</div> - <div class="i0">Still?" P'raps a nearer one—</div> - <div class="i0">Gifts from her lover!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Alas, for the rarity</div> - <div class="i0">Of Christian charity,</div> - <div class="i0">There isn't one</div> - <div class="i0">Who's a bit pitiful,</div> - <div class="i0">While that sad, witty fool,</div> - <div class="i0">Woffles, makes fun.</div> - <div class="i0">She, as she shivers</div> - <div class="i0">And mournfully quivers,</div> - <div class="i0">Sits bolt upright.</div> - <div class="i0">From window to casement,</div> - <div class="i0">From roof unto basement</div> - <div class="i0">She stares with amazement,</div> - <div class="i0">Mournful of plight.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Never this history</div> - <div class="i0">Tell—'tis a mystery.</div> - <div class="i0">How her wheels twirled.</div> - <div class="i0">Anywhere, anywhere,</div> - <div class="i0">Facing the world;</div> - <div class="i0">Whirled her skates boldly,</div> - <div class="i0">No matter how coldly</div> - <div class="i0">Regarded by man.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, but the Rink of it—</div> - <div class="i0">Picture it—think of it,</div> - <div class="i0">When it began;</div> - <div class="i0">Rave at it, wink at it,</div> - <div class="i0">Now if you can.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Take her up tenderly—</div> - <div class="i0">Mind her back hair;</div> - <div class="i0">Fashioned so slenderly—</div> - <div class="i0">Fetch her a chair.</div> - <div class="i0">Can't she sit down on it?</div> - <div class="i0">Is she in pain?</div> - <div class="i0">True. She doth frown on it—</div> - <div class="i0">"Shan't rink again!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6"><em>Funny Folks</em>, February 26, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AST</span> A<span class="smcapa">PPEAL</span>, 1878.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O<span class="smcapa">NE</span> more importunate</div> - <div class="i0">Struggle for place!</div> - <div class="i0">One more unfortunate</div> - <div class="i0">Slap in the face!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dizzy's a devil—he,</div> - <div class="i0">What should I spare?</div> - <div class="i0">Trip him up cleverly,</div> - <div class="i0">Fair or unfair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Never mind arguments,</div> - <div class="i0">Tear up his Pargaments</div> - <div class="i0">(While the ink's scarcely dry,</div> - <div class="i0">Easy is blotting),</div> - <div class="i0">Honour and decency</div> - <div class="i0">Wholly forgotten.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Talk of him scornfully,</div> - <div class="i0">Talk of him mournfully,</div> - <div class="i0">Treat him inhumanly.</div> - <div class="i0">Arguments failing.</div> - <div class="i0">Throw dirt, and try railing,</div> - <div class="i0">Spiteful and womanly.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Make no deep scrutiny</div> - <div class="i0">Into past mutiny,</div> - <div class="i0">Rash and undutiful,</div> - <div class="i0">England's dishonour,</div> - <div class="i0">While I heap on her—</div> - <div class="i0">Won't it be beautiful?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Point out all slips of his,</div> - <div class="i0">Sneer at his family;</div> - <div class="i0">Closed are those lips of his,</div> - <div class="i0">He must bear silently.</div> - <div class="i0">Fear not excesses,</div> - <div class="i0">Only hit home.</div> - <div class="i0">The "Daily News" blesses,</div> - <div class="i0">While wonderment guesses</div> - <div class="i0">What next may come.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sneer at his father,</div> - <div class="i0">Jeer at his mother,</div> - <div class="i0">Is he a Christian?</div> - <div class="i0">Nay, I'll go further.</div> - <div class="i0">He's not an Englishman,</div> - <div class="i0">Only a Charlatan,</div> - <div class="i0">Worse than a murderer.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! for the rarity</div> - <div class="i0">Of Christian charity</div> - <div class="i0">Under the sun!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! it was pitiful</div> - <div class="i0">To see a whole City full</div> - <div class="i0">Greet such an one.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Countryfolk, citizens,</div> - <div class="i0">Foreigners, denizens,</div> - <div class="i0">Greetings combined!</div> - <div class="i0">Yet may such eminence,</div> - <div class="i0">Spite of such evidence,</div> - <div class="i0">By my malevolence,</div> - <div class="i0">Be undermined.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When the lamps quiver</div> - <div class="i0">Over the river,</div> - <div class="i0">With many a light</div> - <div class="i0">From many a casement,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> - <div class="i0">I'll seek his abasement;</div> - <div class="i0">And for his displacement,</div> - <div class="i0">I'll fight, yes, I'll fight.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">John Bull's cold glance</div> - <div class="i0">May make other men shiver,</div> - <div class="i0">But still I advance,</div> - <div class="i0">Implacable ever,</div> - <div class="i0">Mad from life's history.</div> - <div class="i0">This creature of mystery</div> - <div class="i0">Forth shall be hurled</div> - <div class="i0">Anywhere, anywhere,</div> - <div class="i0">Out of the world.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In I plunged boldly,</div> - <div class="i0">No matter how coldly</div> - <div class="i0">Popular feeling ran,</div> - <div class="i0">Over the brink of it.</div> - <div class="i0">Picture it, think of it,</div> - <div class="i0">Dissolute man!</div> - <div class="i0">How can Heav'n wink at it?</div> - <div class="i0">It's more than I can.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dizzy's a devil—he,</div> - <div class="i0">Why should I spare?</div> - <div class="i0">Trip him up cleverly,</div> - <div class="i0">Fair or unfair.</div> - <div class="i0">Treats he me frigidly,</div> - <div class="i0">Formally, rigidly.</div> - <div class="i0">Decently kindly,</div> - <div class="i0">Can this compose me?</div> - <div class="i0">While his eyes pose me,</div> - <div class="i0">Staring so blindly!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dreadfully staring</div> - <div class="i0">Through that eye-glass of his,</div> - <div class="i0">Malice and daring</div> - <div class="i0">Point me—despairing—</div> - <div class="i0">To Honour and Peace.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Perish I gloomily</div> - <div class="i0">Spurned by contumely.</div> - <div class="i0">Soured humanity,</div> - <div class="i0">Yields to insanity.</div> - <div class="i0">As for the rest—</div> - <div class="i0">When my name's perished,</div> - <div class="i0">Will his be cherished</div> - <div class="i0">By Englishmen blest?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When History has measured</div> - <div class="i0">My evil behaviour,</div> - <div class="i0">His name shall be treasured</div> - <div class="i0">As his country's saviour!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>They are Five</em>, by W. E. G. (David Bogue, London).</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">One more unfortunate</div> - <div class="i2">Author in debt,</div> - <div class="i0">Scorn'd and importunate,</div> - <div class="i2">Badger'd, beset.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lethe, I'd drink of it,</div> - <div class="i2">Die without fuss,</div> - <div class="i0">Picture it, think of it—</div> - <div class="i2">Manager "Gus."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">H<span class="smcapa">ARRIETT</span> J<span class="smcapa">AY</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1"><em>Old Drury Lane, Christmas Annual</em>, 1883.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">OOTS OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IZE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Take them up tenderly,</div> - <div class="i1">Lift them with care,</div> - <div class="i0">Fashioned so slenderly</div> - <div class="i1">"Twelves" never were.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Touch them not scornfully,</div> - <div class="i0">Think of her mournfully</div> - <div class="i1">Who has to bear them.</div> - <div class="i0">Think of the pains of her—</div> - <div class="i0">All that remains of her</div> - <div class="i1">Save what will wear them.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How were her father's feet?</div> - <div class="i1">How were her mother's?</div> - <div class="i0">How were her sister's feet?</div> - <div class="i1">How were her brother's?</div> - <div class="i0">What had the maiden done</div> - <div class="i1">That she should merit it?</div> - <div class="i0">Was it a judgment?</div> - <div class="i1">Or did she inherit it?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Alas for the rarity</div> - <div class="i0">Of Christian charity</div> - <div class="i1">Under the sun!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, it is pitiful,</div> - <div class="i0">From a whole city full</div> - <div class="i1">Praise she has none.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sisterly, brotherly,</div> - <div class="i0">Fatherly, motherly</div> - <div class="i1">Feelings are changed;</div> - <div class="i0">Love goes with "pettitoes,"</div> - <div class="i0">"Tootsie" and "pootsie" nose</div> - <div class="i0">Ever from feet like those</div> - <div class="i1">Turning estranged.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Never the ballroom</div> - <div class="i0">(Save she had all room)</div> - <div class="i1">Could she be daring;</div> - <div class="i0">And if at croquet seen,</div> - <div class="i0">"Gracious! that huge <em>bottine</em>,"</div> - <div class="i0">People would cry or mean,</div> - <div class="i0">Dreadfully staring!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The bleak winds of March</div> - <div class="i1">Made her tremble and shiver;</div> - <div class="i0">Clothes raised in arch</div> - <div class="i1">Her huge "trotters" dis-<em>kiver</em>.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, then, from scrutiny,</div> - <div class="i0">Comment or rootin' eye,</div> - <div class="i1">Swift to be hurl'd,</div> - <div class="i0">Anywhere, anywhere,</div> - <div class="i1">Out of the world.</div> - <div class="i0">Take them up tenderly,</div> - <div class="i1">Lift them with care,</div> - <div class="i0">Fashioned more slenderly</div> - <div class="i1">Buckets ne'er were.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Scraps</em>, 1884</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">INES</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> Gradus dirty and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With heavy and weary eyes,</div> - <div class="i0">A Freshman sat who had written an ode</div> - <div class="i1">For the last Vice-Chancellor's prize.</div> - <div class="i0">Wait, wait, wait,</div> - <div class="i1">'Mid Grinders, Lectures, and fines,</div> - <div class="i0">And thus on a lyre of dolorous chord</div> - <div class="i1">He sang the Song of the Lines.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wait, wait, wait,</div> - <div class="i1">When the bell is ringing aloof,</div> - <div class="i0">And wait, wait, wait,</div> - <div class="i1">When we leave our Grinder's roof,</div> - <div class="i0">And it's oh to be a Jib</div> - <div class="i1">In the Godless College of Cork,</div> - <div class="i0">Where never Vice-Chancellor gives a prize,</div> - <div class="i1">If this be Christian's work.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, Fellows with pupils dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Oh, Fellows with nephews and sons,</div> - <div class="i0">It is not paper you're tearing up,</div> - <div class="i1">But Senior Freshman's Duns,</div> - <div class="i0">For the Duns are growing rude,</div> - <div class="i1">Because of the Bills I owe,</div> - <div class="i0">Madden and Roe, Kinsley and Jude,</div> - <div class="i1">Jude and Kinsley and Roe.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wait, wait, wait,</div> - <div class="i1">Till term after term fulfils,</div> - <div class="i0">And wait, wait, wait,</div> - <div class="i1">As minors wait for wills,</div> - <div class="i0">Week after week in vain</div> - <div class="i1">We've looked at the College gate,</div> - <div class="i0">For how many days? I would hardly fear</div> - <div class="i1">To speak of ninety-eight.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With Gradus dirty and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With heavy and weary eyes,</div> - <div class="i0">A Freshman sat who had written an ode</div> - <div class="i1">For the last Vice-Chancellor's prize.</div> - <div class="i0">Wait, wait, wait,</div> - <div class="i1">'Mid Grinders, Lectures, and fines,</div> - <div class="i0">And thus on a lyre of dolorous chord,</div> - <div class="i0">(Would that its tones could reach the Board),</div> - <div class="i1">He sang the Song of the Lines.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">C. P. M<span class="smcapa">ULVANY</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Kottabos</em>, Dublin (William McGee), 1873.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following imitation was written by Father -McCarthy, and appeared in <em>The Catholic Herald</em> -(Jersey), about forty years ago:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> D<span class="smcapa">RUNKARD</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With body shrivelled and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyeballs bloodshot and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A man in plight forlorn,</div> - <div class="i1">Lay moaning sore in bed.</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">In poverty, fever, and pain,</div> - <div class="i0">And still he sang of his favourite drink</div> - <div class="i1">'Mid the whirlings of his brain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! there's nothing like drink for man,</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Till the head reel round again.</div> - <div class="i0">It's oh! to be a beast,</div> - <div class="i1">Without a soul to save,</div> - <div class="i0">With no fear to stay the drunken feast,</div> - <div class="i1">And no Hell beyond the grave.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Brandy, and gin, and rum,</div> - <div class="i1">Rum, and brandy, and gin,</div> - <div class="i0">'Till wild delirium come,</div> - <div class="i1">And we rave in the pit of sin.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! men with children dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! men with starving wives,</div> - <div class="i0">It is not gin you are drinking there,</div> - <div class="i1">But your wives and children's lives.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Let them all be ragged and bare,</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Is the drunkard's only care.</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Our guzzling never flags,</div> - <div class="i0">And our wages go, and our homes are woe,</div> - <div class="i1">And our children skulk in rags.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Forced by day to starve or steal,</div> - <div class="i1">By night a floor their bed,</div> - <div class="i0">And all their life is a life of vice,</div> - <div class="i1">And where are they when dead?</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Let us fight and curse and swear,</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">'Till our breath pollute the air.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Brandy, and gin, and rum,</div> - <div class="i1">Rum, and brandy, and gin,</div> - <div class="i0">'Till wasted frame and fever come,</div> - <div class="i1">And the sorrows of Hell begin.</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">'Till staggering home we go,</div> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">'Till we blast that home with woe.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, curses, murder, and shame,</div> - <div class="i1">Make up the drunkard's life,</div> - <div class="i0">With the rags and vice of a starving child,</div> - <div class="i1">And the groans of a sickly wife.</div> - <div class="i0">With body shrivelled and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyeballs glaring and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A savage man in plight forlorn,</div> - <div class="i1">Lay, raving loud on his bed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drink, drink, drink,</div> - <div class="i1">In racking fever and pain,</div> - <div class="i0">And still he raved of his murderous drink,</div> - <div class="i1">'Mid the frenzies of his brain.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>A distinguished officer writes that the recent -spell of warm weather has reminded him of a -parody he read in India twenty-five years ago. -It describes, in no exaggerated manner, a very -disagreeable complaint to which Anglo-Indians -are liable in the hot season:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF</span> "T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">RICKLY</span> H<span class="smcapa">EAT</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With fingers never at rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With cuticle measly red,</div> - <div class="i0">A heat-oppress'd victim capered about,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> - <div class="i1">Itching from ankles to head—</div> - <div class="i2">Scratch, scratch, scratch—</div> - <div class="i0">At a rate few North-Britons could beat,</div> - <div class="i0">And still with a voice of dolorous pitch</div> - <div class="i2">Thus sang he of "Prickly Heat."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"Itch, itch, itch,</div> - <div class="i0">Till my brain begins to swim,</div> - <div class="i1">And scratch, scratch, scratch,</div> - <div class="i0">Till I bleed in every limb.</div> - <div class="i1">Thighs, and body, and arms,</div> - <div class="i0">Back, and body, and thighs,</div> - <div class="i1">Till weary with scratching I fall asleep,</div> - <div class="i0">And scratch with sleep-sealed eyes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! white men banished here!</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! men all greedy of wealth!</div> - <div class="i0">It is not money your sweating out,</div> - <div class="i1">But your precious, precious health!</div> - <div class="i2">Itch, itch, itch,</div> - <div class="i0">Through years of monotonous rack,</div> - <div class="i1">Sowing at once with a double seed,</div> - <div class="i0">Disease as well as a Lakh!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"They say it is not disease,</div> - <div class="i1">This villanous pimply glow,</div> - <div class="i0">If not disease's tangible shape,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis deuced like it though—</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis deuced like it though,</div> - <div class="i0">If healthy skins are pale.</div> - <div class="i1">Oh, God! that suns should be so strong</div> - <div class="i0">And flesh and blood so frail.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Scratch, scratch, scratch,</div> - <div class="i1">My labour never flags;</div> - <div class="i0">And what are its wages?—a carcass raw—</div> - <div class="i1">Lint, plaisters, and swathing rags,</div> - <div class="i0">This tortured head, and this body flayed,</div> - <div class="i1">Dyspepsia and gloom alway,</div> - <div class="i0">And a brain so blank, each ninny I thank</div> - <div class="i1">Who drones me through the day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Itch, itch, itch,</div> - <div class="i1">When good dinners glad the sight,</div> - <div class="i0">And scratch, scratch, scratch,</div> - <div class="i1">When I'm longing to bite, bite, bite,</div> - <div class="i0">When under silver roofs</div> - <div class="i1">Rich viands my servants bring,</div> - <div class="i0">As if to show me their dainty shapes,</div> - <div class="i1">And twit me for lingering.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! but to breathe the breath</div> - <div class="i1">Of the cowslip and primrose sweet,</div> - <div class="i0">Where the sky above one's head</div> - <div class="i1">Is not of this melting heat;</div> - <div class="i0">For only one short hour</div> - <div class="i1">To feel as I used to feel</div> - <div class="i0">Before I knew Calcutta's suns</div> - <div class="i1">Flay men as men the eel.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh! but for one short hour</div> - <div class="i1">A respite just to snatch!</div> - <div class="i0">No blessed leisure for love or lark—</div> - <div class="i1">But only time to scratch.</div> - <div class="i0">Though goulard water might ease my pain</div> - <div class="i1">The antidote I dread,</div> - <div class="i0">An idle day might affect my pay,</div> - <div class="i1">And physic claims a bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IX.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With fingers never at rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With cuticle measly red,</div> - <div class="i0">A heat-oppress'd victim capered about,</div> - <div class="i1">Itching from ankles to head.</div> - <div class="i2">Scratch, scratch, scratch,</div> - <div class="i0">At a rate few North-Britons could beat,</div> - <div class="i1">And still with a voice of dolorous pitch</div> - <div class="i0">(Would that its tone could <em>cure</em> the itch!)</div> - <div class="i1">Thus sang he of "The Prickly Heat."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Calcutta Englishman</em>, 1859.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>There was another parody of Hood's <em>Song of -the Shirt</em>, written by Mr. Clement Scott, entitled -<em>The Song of the Clerk</em>. The Editor of this collection -would be glad to know when, and in -what work it appeared.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A<span class="smcapa">BOUT THE</span> W<span class="smcapa">EATHER.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Fragment</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I remember, I remember,</div> - <div class="i1">Ere my childhood flitted by,</div> - <div class="i0">It was cold then in December,</div> - <div class="i1">And was warmer in July.</div> - <div class="i0">In the winter there were freezings—</div> - <div class="i1">In the summer there were thaws;</div> - <div class="i0">But the weather isn't now at all</div> - <div class="i1">Like what it used to was!</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i7"><em>The Man in the Moon</em>, Vol. 5.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> E<span class="smcapa">UGENE</span> A<span class="smcapa">RAM</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'T<span class="smcapa">WAS</span> in the prime of summer time,</div> - <div class="i1">An evening calm and cool,</div> - <div class="i0">And four-and-twenty happy boys</div> - <div class="i1">Came bounding out of school:</div> - <div class="i0">There were some that ran and some that leapt,</div> - <div class="i1">Like troutlets in a pool.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">That very night, while gentle sleep</div> - <div class="i1">The urchin eyelids kiss'd,</div> - <div class="i0">Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,</div> - <div class="i1">Through the cold and heavy mist;</div> - <div class="i0">And Eugene Aram walk'd between,</div> - <div class="i1">With gyves upon his wrist.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">T<span class="smcapa">HOMAS</span> H<span class="smcapa">OOD</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> F<span class="smcapa">ALL OF THE</span> E<span class="smcapa">MINENT</span> I.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Twas in the prime of autumn time,</div> - <div class="i0">An evening calm and cool,</div> - <div class="i0">And full two thousand cockneys went</div> - <div class="i0">To see him play the fool;—</div> - <div class="i0">And the critics filled the stalls as thick</div> - <div class="i0">As the balls in a billiard pool.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Away they sped when the play was done,</div> - <div class="i0">Scarce knowing what to say;</div> - <div class="i0">So they passed the butter boat around</div> - <div class="i0">In the simple, usual way.</div> - <div class="i0">Smoothly ran their glowing prose</div> - <div class="i0">In the daily press next day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Eminent I. they raved about</div> - <div class="i0">Till their gush to columns ran;</div> - <div class="i0">Condoning a <em>fiasco</em> great,</div> - <div class="i0">As friendly critics can;</div> - <div class="i0">And <em>he</em> still strutted on the stage,</div> - <div class="i0">An over-rated man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He wore pink tights—his vest apart,</div> - <div class="i0">To clutch his manly chest;</div> - <div class="i0">And he went at the knees in his old, old way,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst his brow he madly prest.</div> - <div class="i0">So he whisper'd and roared, and gasp'd and groan'd,</div> - <div class="i0">As with dyspepsia possest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Act after act he ranted through,</div> - <div class="i0">And he strode for many a mile,</div> - <div class="i0">Till some were fain to leave the house,</div> - <div class="i0">Too weary even to smile;</div> - <div class="i0">For acting the murderer's part so oft</div> - <div class="i0">Had somewhat marred his style.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But he took six more hasty strides</div> - <div class="i0">Across the stage again—</div> - <div class="i0">Six hasty strides, then doubled up,</div> - <div class="i0">As smit with searching pain;</div> - <div class="i0">As though to say, "See me create</div> - <div class="i0">The conscience-stricken Thane!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then leaping on his feet upright,</div> - <div class="i0">Some moody turns took he</div> - <div class="i0">Now up the stage, now down the stage,</div> - <div class="i0">And now beside Miss B.;</div> - <div class="i0">And, looking off, he saw her ma,</div> - <div class="i0">As she read in the R. U. E.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Now, Mrs. B., what is't you read?"</div> - <div class="i0">Ask'd he, with top-lip curving.</div> - <div class="i0">"Queen Mary? A play by Mr. Wills,</div> - <div class="i0">Or something more deserving?"</div> - <div class="i0">Said Mrs. B., with an upturned glance,</div> - <div class="i0">"It is 'The Fall of Irving!'"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"His fall!" gasped he, "in sooth you jest!</div> - <div class="i0">O, prithee say what mean ye?</div> - <div class="i0">Know ye not, they call him Kemble-ish,</div> - <div class="i0">And speak of his style as Kean-y?</div> - <div class="i0">On the modern stage he stands alone."</div> - <div class="i0">She murmur'd one word—"Salvini!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Avaunt!" he cried; "that name again!</div> - <div class="i0">Its mention ne'er will cease;</div> - <div class="i0">Does he still dare my throne to share,</div> - <div class="i0">And threaten my fame's short lease?"</div> - <div class="i0">But here the call-boy came to say,</div> - <div class="i0">That his absence stopped the piece.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">One night, months thence, whilst gentle sleep</div> - <div class="i0">Had still'd the City's heart,</div> - <div class="i0">Two bill-stickers set out with paste</div> - <div class="i0">And play-bills in a cart,</div> - <div class="i0">And the Eminent I. had his name on them,</div> - <div class="i0">In a melodramatic part.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Figaro</em>, October 9, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When Mr. Henry Irving produced <em>The Iron -Chest</em>, at the Lyceum Theatre, the Editor of -<em>The World</em> offered two prizes for the best two -parodies on the subject, the model chosen being -Hood's <em>Dream of Eugene Aram</em>. The successful -parodies were printed in <em>The World</em>, October 22, -1879:—</p> - - -<h3>F<span class="smcapa">IRST</span> P<span class="smcapa">RIZE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'T<span class="smcapa">WAS</span> in the Strand, a great demand</div> - <div class="i1">For seats was quite the rule;</div> - <div class="i0">The pit and gallery were crammed,</div> - <div class="i1">The stalls and boxes full.</div> - <div class="i0">One man remained who could not find</div> - <div class="i1">A solitary stool.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From gods to stall, he paced them all,</div> - <div class="i1">Unable to find rest;</div> - <div class="i0">A burning thought was in his heart,</div> - <div class="i1">Beneath his spotless breast.</div> - <div class="i0">He'd eaten pork, and knew full well</div> - <div class="i1">Pork he could not digest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With hollow sound the curtain rose,</div> - <div class="i1">And then he found a place,</div> - <div class="i0">Where, cramped and crushed, he just could see</div> - <div class="i1">The great tragedian's face—</div> - <div class="i0">He was so prest, for the <em>Iron Chest</em></div> - <div class="i0">He hadn't any space.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He saw how Irving walked the stage</div> - <div class="i1">With ill-dissembled care,</div> - <div class="i0">To keep the limelight on his brows</div> - <div class="i1">And on his flowing hair,</div> - <div class="i0">While all the rest were in the dark—</div> - <div class="i1">You only heard them there.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His voice was hollow as the grave,</div> - <div class="i1">Or like an eagle's scream—</div> - <div class="i0">Murderers, you know, talk always so—</div> - <div class="i1">His eyes like theirs did gleam—</div> - <div class="i0">He'd done this sort of thing before.</div> - <div class="i1">But then 'twas in a dream.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He showed how murderers start and gasp</div> - <div class="i1">When conscience pricks them sore;</div> - <div class="i0">He dragged his shirt-front out by yards,</div> - <div class="i1">And strewed it on the floor;</div> - <div class="i0">He rolled his eyes, and clutched his breast—</div> - <div class="i1">He'd done it all before.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If anybody mentioned death</div> - <div class="i1">Or foul assassination,</div> - <div class="i0">He started up and groaned or shrieked</div> - <div class="i1">With obvious perturbation.</div> - <div class="i0">'Twas very strange this sudden change</div> - <div class="i1">Provoked no observation.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And when at last four acts were past</div> - <div class="i1">Of stares and glares and guggles,</div> - <div class="i0">And in the chest they found the knife</div> - <div class="i1">Which he so neatly smuggles—</div> - <div class="i0">'Twas ecstacy to see him die</div> - <div class="i1">Of aggravated struggles.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">Q.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ECOND</span> P<span class="smcapa">RIZE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> sky was clear; no ripple marked</div> - <div class="i1">The course of silver Tyne;</div> - <div class="i0">And all was still, save for the bells</div> - <div class="i1">On the necks of the grazing kine.</div> - <div class="i0">On his fair demesne Sir Edward looked,</div> - <div class="i1">Last of an ancient line.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> - <div class="i0">His face was fair, but it did not wear</div> - <div class="i1">The sign of a soul at rest;</div> - <div class="i0">Anon a shudder shook his frame,</div> - <div class="i1">A sigh broke from his breast;</div> - <div class="i0">He seemed as seems a man by some</div> - <div class="i1">O'ermastering woe oppressed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And yet among thy peers is known</div> - <div class="i1">Than thine no prouder name,</div> - <div class="i0">And wealth is thine and friendship's joy,</div> - <div class="i1">A scutcheon void of blame;</div> - <div class="i0">All this is thine, Sir Edward; why</div> - <div class="i1">Thus bow thy head in shame?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Men call thee good, they know thee kind—</div> - <div class="i1">Yet more, if aught beside</div> - <div class="i0">There lacks thy happiness to crown,</div> - <div class="i1">Thou hast a peerless bride;</div> - <div class="i0">Why, then, Sir Edward, bow thy head?"</div> - <div class="i1">A mocking demon cried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Hell-hound! and art thou here to taunt</div> - <div class="i1">My last—Yet 'tis thy meed:</div> - <div class="i0">'Twas thou that in this fevered breast</div> - <div class="i1">Wrath and revenge didst feed,</div> - <div class="i0">Till—woe unutterable!—I</div> - <div class="i1">Wrought the accursèd deed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"'Twas at thy feet, a pupil apt,</div> - <div class="i1">I learnt this lying art;—</div> - <div class="i0">O God, that I—that I could stoop</div> - <div class="i1">To play this loathly part!</div> - <div class="i0">O God, that with a face so calm</div> - <div class="i1">I cloak so black a heart!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet the end is gained and the secret sure:</div> - <div class="i1">They shall lay the tortured clod</div> - <div class="i0">Of this vile clay in the open day</div> - <div class="i1">With honour beneath the sod."</div> - <div class="i0">That night 'twas known that a felon's soul</div> - <div class="i1">Had gone to meet its God.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">P<span class="smcapa">ORTIONISTA</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The following was also published:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Twas in the dim Lyceum pit</div> - <div class="i1">(And, O, that pit was hot)</div> - <div class="i0">That several hundred folks did sit,</div> - <div class="i1">And I amongst the lot;</div> - <div class="i0">And some drank ale and some drank stout,</div> - <div class="i1">From mug or pewter-pot.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We watched the jovial robber-crew,</div> - <div class="i1">The merry poaching clan,</div> - <div class="i0">Chasing the sportive deer about</div> - <div class="i1">As only robbers can;</div> - <div class="i0">While the keeper kept himself at home,</div> - <div class="i1">A conscience-stricken man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His hair was long and his dress was dark,</div> - <div class="i1">And he strode with Irving's stride;</div> - <div class="i0">A crime unconfessed he hid in the chest</div> - <div class="i1">Kept ever by his side;</div> - <div class="i0">Much painting had made him very pale</div> - <div class="i1">And wan and hollow-eyed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And he saw his secretarial clerk,</div> - <div class="i1">One Wilford (Norman Forbes),</div> - <div class="i0">Go prying about in the ancient room</div> - <div class="i1">Hung round with family daubs;</div> - <div class="i0">And he "went" forthwith for that timid clerk,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose name was Norman Forbes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"By hell!" he shrieked, and held him fast;</div> - <div class="i1">"Untrusty youth, unstable—"</div> - <div class="i0">He raved in his face and clenched his fists,</div> - <div class="i1">And chased him round the table.</div> - <div class="i0">"Wouldst read the secret? wouldst hear thy doom?"</div> - <div class="i1">"I would, an I were able!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"If thou wert Abel, then I were Cain!</div> - <div class="i1">But, 'fore I tell thee, swear—"</div> - <div class="i0">And he swore and he swore and he swore again,</div> - <div class="i1">Till on end arose our hair;</div> - <div class="i0">And I couldn't help thinking what fines he'd have paid</div> - <div class="i1">If there'd been a magistrate there.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And that very night, when a somnolent snooze</div> - <div class="i1">Was exciting the murderer's nose,</div> - <div class="i0">Poor Wilford rose up, and he hied him away</div> - <div class="i1">In a scanty assortment of clothes;</div> - <div class="i0">And the baronet rummaged and routed his trunk,</div> - <div class="i1">As we do when our "general" goes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And there he hid a fork and spoon</div> - <div class="i1">In a most ingenious way,</div> - <div class="i0">And a ring or so and a deed or two,</div> - <div class="i1">And Wilford was tried next day;</div> - <div class="i0">But the <span class="smcapa">KNIFE</span> had slipped in, and—ha, ha!—'twas found!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And that's the plot of the play!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">C. S.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The peculiar rhythm, and quaint conceits of -fancy, in Hood's <em>Miss Kilmansegg and her Precious -Leg</em> have been admirably imitated by Mr. H. -Cholmondeley Pennell in <em>The Thread of Life</em>. -This poem (the last in <em>Puck on Pegasus</em>) resembles -its original also in the exquisite blending of the -pathetic and the humorous, of which, unfortunately, -disjointed extracts can give but a faint -idea:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">L<span class="smcapa">IFE</span>! What depths of mystery wide</div> - <div class="i0">In the oceans of Hate and the rivers of Pride,</div> - <div class="i0">That mingle in Tribulations tide,</div> - <div class="i1">To quench the spark—V<span class="smcapa">ITALITY</span>!</div> - <div class="i0">What chords of Love and "bands" of Hope</div> - <div class="i0">Were "made strong" (without the use of rope)</div> - <div class="i1">In the thread—I<span class="smcapa">NDIVIDUALITY</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">L<span class="smcapa">IFE</span>! What marvellous throbs and throes</div> - <div class="i0">The Alchemy of E<span class="smcapa">XISTENCE</span> knows;</div> - <div class="i0">What "weals within wheels" (and woes without woahs!)</div> - <div class="i1">Give sophistry a handle;</div> - <div class="i0">Though Hare himself could be dipped in the well</div> - <div class="i0">Where Truth's proverbial waters dwell,</div> - <div class="i0">It would throw no more light on the vital spell</div> - <div class="i0">Than a dip in the Polytechnic bell,</div> - <div class="i1">Or the dip—a ha'penny candle.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Into being we come, in ones and twos,</div> - <div class="i0">To be kissed, to be cuff'd, to obey, to abuse,</div> - <div class="i0">Each destined to stand in another's shoes</div> - <div class="i1">To whose heels we may come the nighest;</div> - <div class="i0">This turns at once into Luxury's bed,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst that in a gutter lays his head,</div> - <div class="i0">And this—in a house with a wooden lid</div> - <div class="i1">And a roof that's none of the highest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> - <div class="i0">We fall like the drops of April show'rs,</div> - <div class="i0">Cradled in mud, or cradled in flow'rs,</div> - <div class="i0">Now idly to wile the rosy hours,</div> - <div class="i1">And now for bread to importune;</div> - <div class="i0">Petted, and fêted, and fed upon pap,</div> - <div class="i0">One prattler comes in for a fortune, slap—</div> - <div class="i0">And one, a "more kicks than ha'pence" chap,</div> - <div class="i1">For a slap—without the fortune!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet, laugh if we will at those baby days,</div> - <div class="i0">There was more of bliss in its careless plays,</div> - <div class="i0">Than in after time from the careful ways</div> - <div class="i0">Or the hollow world, with its empty praise,</div> - <div class="i0">Its honeyed speeches, and hackney phrase,</div> - <div class="i1">And its pleasures, for ever fleeting.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4"><em>Puck on Pegasus</em> (Chatto and Windus), London.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A N<span class="smcapa">ICE</span> Y<span class="smcapa">OUNG</span> M<span class="smcapa">AN FOR A</span> S<span class="smcapa">MALL</span> P<span class="smcapa">ARTY</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OUNG</span> Ben he was a nice young man,</div> - <div class="i1">An author by his trade;</div> - <div class="i0">He fell in love with Polly-Tics,</div> - <div class="i1">And was an M. P. made.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He was a Radical one day,</div> - <div class="i1">But met a Tory crew;</div> - <div class="i0">His Polly-Tics he cast away,</div> - <div class="i1">And then turned Tory too.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Now Ben had tried for many a place</div> - <div class="i1">When Tories e'en were out;</div> - <div class="i0">But in two years the turning Whigs</div> - <div class="i1">Were turn'd to the right-about.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But when he called on R<span class="smcapa">OBERT</span> P<span class="smcapa">EEL</span>,</div> - <div class="i1">His talents to employ,</div> - <div class="i0">His answer was, "Young Englander,</div> - <div class="i1">For me you're not the boy."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, R<span class="smcapa">OBERT</span> P<span class="smcapa">EEL</span>! Oh, R<span class="smcapa">OBERT</span> P<span class="smcapa">EEL</span>!</div> - <div class="i1">How could you serve me so?</div> - <div class="i0">I've met with Whig rebuffs before,</div> - <div class="i1">But not a Tory blow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then rising up in Parliament,</div> - <div class="i1">He made a fierce to do</div> - <div class="i0">With P<span class="smcapa">EEL</span>, who merely winked his eye;</div> - <div class="i1">B<span class="smcapa">EN</span> wink'd like winking too.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And then he tried the game again,</div> - <div class="i1">But couldn't, though he tried;</div> - <div class="i0">His party turn'd away from him,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor with him would divide.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Young England died when in its birth:</div> - <div class="i1">In forty-five it fell;</div> - <div class="i0">The papers told the public, but</div> - <div class="i1">None for it toll'd the bell.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Punch</em>, June 1845. (This parody was accompanied by a -portrait of Mr. Benjamin Disraeli).</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A F<span class="smcapa">EW</span> W<span class="smcapa">ORDS ON</span> P<span class="smcapa">OETS IN</span> G<span class="smcapa">ENERAL</span>, <span class="smcapa">AND ONE IN</span> P<span class="smcapa">ARTICULAR.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">B<span class="smcapa">Y THE</span> G<span class="smcapa">HOST OF</span> T— H—<span class="smcapa">D</span>.</p> - -<p class="center">"What's in a name?"—<em>Shakespeare.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">By different names were Poets call'd</div> - <div class="i1">In different climes and times;</div> - <div class="i0">The Welsh and Irish call'd him <em>Bard</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">Who was confined to rhymes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In France they called them <em>Troubadours</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">Or <em>Menestrels</em>, by turns;</div> - <div class="i0">The Scandinavians called them <em>Scalds</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">The Scotchmen call theirs <em>Burns</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A strange coincidence is this,</div> - <div class="i1">Both names implying heat;</div> - <div class="i0">But had the Scotchmen call'd theirs <em>Scald</em>.</div> - <div class="i1">'Twere title more complete.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For why call'd B<span class="smcapa">URNS</span> 'tis hard to say</div> - <div class="i1">(Except all sense to slaughter);</div> - <div class="i0"><em>Scald</em> was the name he should have had,</div> - <div class="i1">Being always in <em>hot water</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For he was poor,—his natal hut</div> - <div class="i1">Was built of <em>mud</em>, they say;</div> - <div class="i0">But though the hut was built of mud,</div> - <div class="i1"><em>He</em> was no <em>common clay</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But though of clay he was (a fate</div> - <div class="i1">Each child of earth must share),</div> - <div class="i0">As well as being a child of earth,</div> - <div class="i1">He was a child of <em>Ayr</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And though he could not vaunt his <em>house</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor boast his birth's gentility,</div> - <div class="i0">Nature upon the boy bestow'd</div> - <div class="i1">Her patent of nobility.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It needed not for him his race</div> - <div class="i1">In heralds' books should shine;</div> - <div class="i0">What pride of ancestry compares</div> - <div class="i1">With his illustrious <em>line</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IX.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So he, with heaven-ennobled soul,</div> - <div class="i1">All heralds held in scorn,</div> - <div class="i0">Save one, the oldest of them all,—</div> - <div class="i1">"The herald of the morn."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">X.</div> - - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Call'd by <em>his</em> clarion, up rose he,</div> - <div class="i1">True liege of Nature's throne,</div> - <div class="i0"><em>Fields</em> to invest, and mountain <em>crest</em></div> - <div class="i1">With <em>blazon</em> of his own.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His <em>Vert</em>, the morning's dewy green,</div> - <div class="i1">His <em>Purpure</em>, evening's close,</div> - <div class="i0">His <em>Azure</em>, the unclouded sky,</div> - <div class="i1">His <em>Gules</em>, "the red, red rose."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His <em>Argent</em> sparkled in the streams</div> - <div class="i1">That flash'd through birken bowers;</div> - <div class="i0">His <em>Or</em> was in the autumn leaves</div> - <div class="i1">That fell in golden showers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XIII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Silver and gold of other sort</div> - <div class="i1">The poet had but little;</div> - <div class="i0">But he had more of rarer store,—</div> - <div class="i1">His heart's undaunted mettle.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> - - <div class="p6">XIV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And yet his heart was gentle, too,—</div> - <div class="i1">Sweet woman could enslave him;</div> - <div class="i0">And from the shafts of Cupid's bow</div> - <div class="i1">Even Armour<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> could not save him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And if that Armour could not save</div> - <div class="i1">From shafts that chance might wield,</div> - <div class="i0">What wonder that the poet wise</div> - <div class="i1">Cared little for a <em>shield</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XVI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And <em>Sable</em>, too, and <em>Argent</em> (which</div> - <div class="i1">For colours heralds write)</div> - <div class="i0">In B<span class="smcapa">URNS'</span> uncompromising hands</div> - <div class="i1">Were honest <em>black and white</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XVII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And in that honest black and white</div> - <div class="i1">He wrote his verses bold;</div> - <div class="i0">And though he sent them far <em>abroad</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">Home truths they always told.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XVIII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And so for "honest poverty"</div> - <div class="i1">He sent a brilliant page down;</div> - <div class="i0">And, to do battle for the poor,</div> - <div class="i1">The gauger threw his <em>gauge</em> down.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XIX.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For him the garb of "hodden gray"</div> - <div class="i1">Than tabards had more charms;</div> - <div class="i0">He took the part of <em>sleeveless coats</em></div> - <div class="i1">Against the <em>Coats of Arms</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XX.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And although they of Oxford may</div> - <div class="i1">Sneer at his want of knowledge,</div> - <div class="i0">He had enough of wit at least,</div> - <div class="i1">To beat the Heralds' College.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XXI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The growing brotherhood of his kind</div> - <div class="i1">He clearly, proudly saw that,</div> - <div class="i0">When launching from his lustrous mind,</div> - <div class="i1">"A man's a man for a' that!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Rival Rhymes, in honour of Burns;</em> by Ben Trovato -(Routledge), London, 1859.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">AUNTED</span> L<span class="smcapa">IMBO</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A May-Night Vision, after a Visit to the Grosvenor Gallery.</em> -(<em>With acknowledgment of a hint from</em> H<span class="smcapa">OOD</span>.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A <span class="smcapa">WORLD</span> of whim I wandered in of late,</div> - <div class="i1">A limbo all unknown to common mortals;</div> - <div class="i0">But in the drear night-watches 'twas my fate</div> - <div class="i6">To pass within its portals.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dusk warders, dim and drowsy, drew aside</div> - <div class="i1">What seemed a shadowy unsubstantial curtain,</div> - <div class="i0">And pointed onwards as with pain or pride,</div> - <div class="i6">But <em>which</em> appeared uncertain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I entered, and an opiate influence stole,</div> - <div class="i1">Like semi-palsy, over thought and feeling,</div> - <div class="i0">And with inebriate haziness my soul</div> - <div class="i6">Seemed rapt almost to reeling.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For over all there hung a glamour queer,</div> - <div class="i1">A sense of something odd the spirit daunted,</div> - <div class="i0">And said, like a witch-whisper in the ear,</div> - <div class="i6">"The place is haunted!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Those women, ah, those women! They were white,</div> - <div class="i1">Blue, green, and grey,—all hues, save those of nature,</div> - <div class="i0">Bony of frame, and dim and dull of sight,</div> - <div class="i6">And parlous tall of stature.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Ars longa est</em>,—aye, very long indeed,</div> - <div class="i1">And long as Art were all these High-Art ladies,</div> - <div class="i0">And wan, and weird; one might suppose the breed</div> - <div class="i6">A cross 'twixt earth and Hades.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If poor Persephone to the Dark King</div> - <div class="i1">Had children borne, after that rape from Enna,</div> - <div class="i0">Much so might they have looked, when suffering</div> - <div class="i6">From too much salts and senna.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many their guises, but no various grace</div> - <div class="i1">Or changeful charm relieved their sombre sameness;</div> - <div class="i0">Of form contorted, and cadaverous face,</div> - <div class="i6">And limp lopsided lameness.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Venus was there; at least, they called her so:</div> - <div class="i1">A pallid person with a jaw protrusive,</div> - <div class="i0">Who palpably had found all passion slow,</div> - <div class="i6">And all delight delusive.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No marvel she looked <em>passé</em>, peevish, pale,</div> - <div class="i1">Unlovely, languid, and with doldrums laden.</div> - <div class="i0">To cheer her praise of knights might not avail,</div> - <div class="i6">Nor chaunt of moon-eyed maiden.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Laus Veneris!</em> they sang; the music rose</div> - <div class="i1">More like a requiem than a gladsome pæan.</div> - <div class="i0">With sullen lip and earth-averted nose</div> - <div class="i6">Listened the Cytherean.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>This</em> Aphrodite? Then methought I heard</div> - <div class="i1">Loud laughter of the Queen of Love, full scornful</div> - <div class="i0">Of this dull simulacrum, strained, absurd,</div> - <div class="i6">Green-sick, and mutely mournful.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A solid Psyche and a Podgy Pan,</div> - <div class="i1">A pulpy Cupid crying on a column,</div> - <div class="i0">A skew-limbed Luna, a Peona wan,</div> - <div class="i6">A Man and Mischief solemn;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A moonlight-coloured maiden—she was hight</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Ophelia</em>, but poor <em>Hamlet</em> would have frightened—</div> - <div class="i0">A wondrous creature called the Shulamite,</div> - <div class="i6">With vesture quaintly tightened;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">These and such other phantasms seemed to fill</div> - <div class="i1">Those silk-hung vistas, which, though fair and roomy,</div> - <div class="i0">Nathless seemed straitened, close, oppressive, still,</div> - <div class="i6">And gogglesome and gloomy.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For over all there hung a glamour queer,</div> - <div class="i1">A sense of something odd the spirit daunted;</div> - <div class="i0">And said, like a witch-whisper in the ear.</div> - <div class="i6">"The place is haunted!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I could no more; I veiled my wearied eyes.</div> - <div class="i1">I said, "Is this indeed the High Ideal?</div> - <div class="i0">If so, give me plain faces, common skies,</div> - <div class="i6">The homely and the real."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> - <div class="i0">But no, this limbo is <em>not</em> that fair land,</div> - <div class="i1">Beloved of soaring fancies, hearts ecstatic;</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis the Fools' Paradise of a small band,</div> - <div class="i6">Queer, crude, absurd, erratic.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I turned, and murmured, as I passed away,</div> - <div class="i1">"Such limbos of mimetic immaturity</div> - <div class="i0">Have no abiding hold e'en on to-day,</div> - <div class="i6">Of fame no calm security."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For over all there hung a glamour queer,</div> - <div class="i1">A sense of something odd the spirit daunted,</div> - <div class="i0">And said, like a witch-whisper in the ear,</div> - <div class="i6">"This place is haunted!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, May 18, 1878.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">———♦———</p> - - - -<h2><a name="BRET_HARTE" id="BRET_HARTE"></a>Bret Harte.</h2> - - -<p>The humorous writings of this author are as -widely read, and as keenly appreciated, in -England as in the United States, and when -the prose portion of this collection is reached -his <em>Sensation Novels Condensed</em> will be fully considered. -In these he has admirably hit off the -peculiarities of style of such varied writers as -Miss Braddon, Victor Hugo, Charles Lever, -Lord Lytton, Alexander Dumas, F. Cooper, -Captain Marryat, Charles Dickens, Charlotte -Brontë, and Wilkie Collins; whilst in <em>Lothaw</em> -he produced a clever little parody of Lord -Beaconsfield's <em>Lothair</em>.</p> - -<p>Bret Harte has ably described both the comic -and the pathetic sides of the wild life of the -Californian miners, with which he is thoroughly -familiar; and his best known poems deal with -phases of life in that part of the world, where the -Chinese element enters largely into the population. -For convenience of comparison, the -original "Heathen Chinee" is given below, -followed by the parodies:—</p> - - -<h3>P<span class="smcapa">LAIN</span> L<span class="smcapa">ANGUAGE FROM</span> T<span class="smcapa">RUTHFUL</span> J<span class="smcapa">AMES</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Table Mountain</em>, 1870.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">HICH</span> I wish to remark—</div> - <div class="i1">And my language is plain—</div> - <div class="i0">That for ways that are dark,</div> - <div class="i1">And for tricks that are vain,</div> - <div class="i0">The heathen Chinee is peculiar,</div> - <div class="i1">Which the same I would rise to explain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ah Sin was his name;</div> - <div class="i1">And I will not deny</div> - <div class="i0">In regard to the same</div> - <div class="i1">What that name might imply;</div> - <div class="i0">But his smile it was pensive and childlike,</div> - <div class="i1">As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It was August the third,</div> - <div class="i1">And quite soft was the skies;</div> - <div class="i0">Which it might be inferred</div> - <div class="i1">That Ah Sin was likewise;</div> - <div class="i0">Yet he played it that day upon William</div> - <div class="i1">And me in a way I despise.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which we had a small game</div> - <div class="i1">And Ah Sin took a hand.</div> - <div class="i0">It was Euchre. The same</div> - <div class="i1">He did not understand;</div> - <div class="i0">But he smiled as he sat by the table,</div> - <div class="i1">With a smile that was childlike and bland.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet the cards they were stocked</div> - <div class="i1">In a way that I grieve,</div> - <div class="i0">And my feelings were shocked</div> - <div class="i1">At the state of Nye's sleeve:</div> - <div class="i0">Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers,</div> - <div class="i1">And the same with intent to deceive.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But the hands that were played</div> - <div class="i1">By that heathen Chinee,</div> - <div class="i0">And the points that he made,</div> - <div class="i1">Were quite frightful to see—</div> - <div class="i0">Till at last he put down a right bower,</div> - <div class="i1">Which the same Nye had dealt unto me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then I looked up at Nye,</div> - <div class="i1">And he gazed upon me;</div> - <div class="i0">And he rose with a sigh,</div> - <div class="i1">And said, "Can this be?</div> - <div class="i0">We are ruined by Chinese cheap labour"—</div> - <div class="i1">And he went for that heathen Chinee.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the scene that ensued</div> - <div class="i1">I did not take a hand;</div> - <div class="i0">But the floor it was strewed</div> - <div class="i1">Like the leaves on the strand</div> - <div class="i0">With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding,</div> - <div class="i1">In the game "he did not understand."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In his sleeves, which were long,</div> - <div class="i1">He had twenty-four packs—</div> - <div class="i0">Which was coming it strong,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet I state but the facts;</div> - <div class="i0">And we found on his nails, which were taper,</div> - <div class="i1">What is frequent in tapers—that's wax.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which is why I remark,</div> - <div class="i1">And my language is plain,</div> - <div class="i0">That for ways that are dark,</div> - <div class="i1">And for tricks that are vain,</div> - <div class="i0">The heathen Chinee is peculiar—</div> - <div class="i1">Which the same I am free to maintain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">B<span class="smcapa">RET</span> H<span class="smcapa">ARTE</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">EATHEN</span> P<span class="smcapa">ASS-EE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Being the Story of a Pass Examination.</em></p> - -<p class="center">B<span class="smcapa">Y</span> B<span class="smcapa">RED</span> H<span class="smcapa">ARD</span>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">HICH</span> I wish to remark,</div> - <div class="i1">And my language is plain,</div> - <div class="i0">That for plots that are dark</div> - <div class="i1">And not always in vain,</div> - <div class="i0">The Heathen Pass-ee is peculiar,</div> - <div class="i1">And the same I would rise to explain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I would also premise</div> - <div class="i1">That the term of Pass-ee</div> - <div class="i0">Most fitly applies,</div> - <div class="i1">As you probably see,</div> - <div class="i0">To one whose vocation is passing</div> - <div class="i1">The "ordinary B.A. degree."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Tom Crib was his name,</div> - <div class="i1">And I shall not deny</div> - <div class="i0">In regard to the same</div> - <div class="i1">What that name might imply,</div> - <div class="i0">But his face it was trustful and childlike,</div> - <div class="i1">And he had the most innocent eye.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Upon April the First</div> - <div class="i1">The Little-Go fell,</div> - <div class="i0">And that was the worst</div> - <div class="i1">Of the gentleman's sell,</div> - <div class="i0">For he fooled the Examining Body</div> - <div class="i1">In a way I'm reluctant to tell.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The candidates came</div> - <div class="i1">And Tom Crib soon appeared;</div> - <div class="i0">It was Euclid, the same</div> - <div class="i1">Was "the subject he feared;"</div> - <div class="i0">But he smiled as he sat by the table</div> - <div class="i1">With a smile that was wary and weird.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet he did what he could,</div> - <div class="i1">And the papers he showed</div> - <div class="i0">Were remarkably good,</div> - <div class="i1">And his countenance glowed</div> - <div class="i0">With pride when I met him soon after</div> - <div class="i1">As he walked down the Trumpington Road.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We did not find him out,</div> - <div class="i1">Which I bitterly grieve,</div> - <div class="i0">For I've not the least doubt</div> - <div class="i1">That he'd placed up his sleeve</div> - <div class="i0">Mr. Todhunter's excellent Euclid,</div> - <div class="i1">The same with intent to deceive.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But I shall not forget</div> - <div class="i1">How the next day at two</div> - <div class="i0">A stiff Paper was set</div> - <div class="i1">By Examiner <em>U</em>—</div> - <div class="i0">On Euripides' tragedy, Bacchæ,</div> - <div class="i1">A Subject Tom "partially knew."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But the knowledge displayed</div> - <div class="i1">By that heathen Pass-ee,</div> - <div class="i0">And the answers he made</div> - <div class="i1">Were quite frightful to see,</div> - <div class="i0">For he rapidly floored the whole paper</div> - <div class="i1">By about twenty minutes to three.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then I looked up at U—</div> - <div class="i1">And he gazed upon me,</div> - <div class="i0">I observed, "This won't do."</div> - <div class="i1">He replied, "Goodness me!</div> - <div class="i0">We are fooled by this artful young person."</div> - <div class="i1">And he sent for that heathen Pass-ee.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The scene that ensued</div> - <div class="i1">Was disgraceful to view,</div> - <div class="i0">For the floor it was strewed</div> - <div class="i1">With a tolerable few</div> - <div class="i0">Of the "tips" that Tom Crib had been hiding</div> - <div class="i1">For the "subject he partially knew."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">On the cuff of his shirt</div> - <div class="i1">He had managed to get</div> - <div class="i0">What we hoped had been dirt,</div> - <div class="i1">But which proved, I regret,</div> - <div class="i0">To be notes on the rise of the Drama,</div> - <div class="i1">A question invariably set.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In his various coats</div> - <div class="i1">We proceeded to seek,</div> - <div class="i0">Where we found sundry notes</div> - <div class="i1">And—with sorrow I speak—</div> - <div class="i0">One of Bohn's publications, so useful</div> - <div class="i1">To the student of Latin or Greek.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the crown of his cap</div> - <div class="i1">Were the Furies and Fates,</div> - <div class="i0">And a delicate map</div> - <div class="i1">Of the Dorian States,</div> - <div class="i0">And we found in his palms, which were hollow,</div> - <div class="i1">What are frequent in palms—that is, dates;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which is why I remark,</div> - <div class="i1">And my language is plain,</div> - <div class="i0">That for plots that are dark</div> - <div class="i1">And not always in vain,</div> - <div class="i0">The Heathen Pass-ee is peculiar,</div> - <div class="i1">Which the same I am free to maintain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3"><em>Light Green</em> (W. Metcalfe and Son) Cambridge.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A K<span class="smcapa">ISS IN THE</span> D<span class="smcapa">ARK</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">HICH</span> I wish to remark,</div> - <div class="i1">That a pleasure in vain</div> - <div class="i0">Is a kiss in the dark</div> - <div class="i1">When it leaveth a stain:</div> - <div class="i0">And a maid who strikes quickly her colours</div> - <div class="i1">When pressed, I shall never maintain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It was at a "surprise,"</div> - <div class="i1">Where fair ladies are found</div> - <div class="i0">To kill time, while it flies,</div> - <div class="i1">With their beaux, who were bound</div> - <div class="i0">On having a social re-union,</div> - <div class="i1">At the cost of—well, more than a pound.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Just here let me say</div> - <div class="i1">To the ladies below,</div> - <div class="i0">Who in polka display</div> - <div class="i1">Their fantastic light <em>tow</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">That their husbands, upstairs, also "poker"</div> - <div class="i1">Yes, ladies, you well may cry "Owe!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If the husbands but knew</div> - <div class="i1">How their wives flirt below,</div> - <div class="i0">They would sing to them—"Glou!"</div> - <div class="i1">For they'd stick to them so</div> - <div class="i0">That the popinjays all would look elsewhere,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor want for a trip of the toe.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the waltz I embraced</div> - <div class="i1">A fair maid with soft eyes;</div> - <div class="i0">O! the size of her waist</div> - <div class="i1">Made me waste many sighs:</div> - <div class="i0">And I likened her cheeks to red roses,</div> - <div class="i1">And whispered, "Sweet love never dyes."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then together we strayed</div> - <div class="i1">In the light of the moon,</div> - <div class="i0">Where I kissed that sweet maid;</div> - <div class="i1">She pretended to swoon,</div> - <div class="i0">But her faint was a feint, so I kissed her</div> - <div class="i1">Again, for I relished the boon,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Back again on the floor,</div> - <div class="i1">With my sweetheart I danced,</div> - <div class="i0">While the people there wore</div> - <div class="i1">Merry smiles, as they glanced</div> - <div class="i0">At my partner, so stayed—in her manner,</div> - <div class="i1">And at me, so completely entranced.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When my love turned around</div> - <div class="i1">I was shocked at the sight;</div> - <div class="i0">Where the roses were found,</div> - <div class="i1">One had met with a blight;</div> - <div class="i0">While a cheek was still blooming and rosy,</div> - <div class="i1">The other was fearfully white.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> - <div class="i0">From my good-looking lass,</div> - <div class="i1">Filled with fright, I straight flew</div> - <div class="i0">To a bad looking-glass,</div> - <div class="i1">Where I gazed: then I knew</div> - <div class="i0">That my nose, which was formerly turn-up,</div> - <div class="i1">Was radish—bright crimson in hue.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which is why I remark,</div> - <div class="i1">That a pleasure in vain</div> - <div class="i0">Is a kiss in the dark</div> - <div class="i1">When it leaveth a stain;</div> - <div class="i0">And a maiden who runs when you kiss her,</div> - <div class="i1">Is fast—which I'll ever maintain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Merry Folks.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HAT</span> G<span class="smcapa">ERMANY</span> J<span class="smcapa">EW</span></h3> - -<p class="center">London, 1874.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">HICH</span> I wish to remark—</div> - <div class="i1">And my language is plain—</div> - <div class="i0">That for ways that are dark,</div> - <div class="i1">And tricks far from vain,</div> - <div class="i0">The Germany Jew is peculiar,</div> - <div class="i1">Which the same I'm about to explain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Eim Gott was his name;</div> - <div class="i1">And I shall not deny</div> - <div class="i0">In regard to the same,</div> - <div class="i1">He was wonderful "fly,"</div> - <div class="i0">But his watch-chain was vulgar and massive,</div> - <div class="i1">And his manner was dapper and spry.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">It's two years come the time,</div> - <div class="i1">Since the mine first came out;</div> - <div class="i0">Which in language sublime</div> - <div class="i1">It was puffed all about:—</div> - <div class="i0">But if there's a mine called Miss Emma</div> - <div class="i1">I'm beginning to werry much doubt.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which there was a small game</div> - <div class="i1">And Eim Gott had a hand</div> - <div class="i0">In promoting! The same</div> - <div class="i1">He did well understand;</div> - <div class="i0">But he sat at Miss Emma's board-table,</div> - <div class="i1">With a smile that was child-like and bland.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet the shares they were "bulled,"</div> - <div class="i1">In a way that I grieve,</div> - <div class="i0">And the public was fooled,</div> - <div class="i1">Which Eim Gott, I believe,</div> - <div class="i0">Sold 22,000 Miss Emmas,</div> - <div class="i1">And the same with intent to deceive.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the tricks that were played</div> - <div class="i1">By that Germany Jew,</div> - <div class="i0">And the pounds that he made</div> - <div class="i1">Are quite well known to you.</div> - <div class="i0">But the way that he flooded Miss Emma</div> - <div class="i1">Is a "watering" of shares that is new.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which it woke up MacD——,</div> - <div class="i1">And his words were but few,</div> - <div class="i0">For he said, "Can this be?"</div> - <div class="i1">And he whistled a "Whew!"</div> - <div class="i0">"We are ruined by German-Jew Swindlers!"—</div> - <div class="i1">And he went for that Germany Jew.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the trial that ensued</div> - <div class="i1">I did not take a hand;</div> - <div class="i0">But the Court was quite filled</div> - <div class="i1">With the fi-nancing band,</div> - <div class="i0">And Eim Gott was "had" with hard labour,</div> - <div class="i1">For the games he did well understand.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which is why I remark—</div> - <div class="i1">And my language is plain—</div> - <div class="i0">That for ways that are dark,</div> - <div class="i1">And for tricks far from vain,</div> - <div class="i0">The Germany Jew was peculiar,—</div> - <div class="i1">But he won't soon be at it again.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Jon Duan.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">T</span>. D<span class="smcapa">ENYS OF</span> F<span class="smcapa">RANCE</span> (<span class="smcapa">A.D.</span> 272).</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>N.B.</em>—<em>The following lay was composed in humble imitation -of the popular bard of Transatlantica.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">HICH</span> I mean to observe—</div> - <div class="i1">And my statement is true—</div> - <div class="i0">That for ways that unnerve,</div> - <div class="i1">And for deeds that out-do,</div> - <div class="i0">St. Denys of France was peculiar,</div> - <div class="i1">And the same I'll explain unto you.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dionysius his name,</div> - <div class="i1">And none will deny</div> - <div class="i0">hat Denys the same</div> - <div class="i1">Does mean and imply;</div> - <div class="i0">And he fell in the hands of the pagans,</div> - <div class="i1">Who doom'd him a martyr to die.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Twas century third,</div> - <div class="i1">As the history states,</div> - <div class="i0">That Denys incurr'd</div> - <div class="i1">This saddest of fates;</div> - <div class="i0">With one Eleutherius, deacon,</div> - <div class="i1">And Rusticus, priest, for his mates.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet the woes that were laid</div> - <div class="i1">On those Christians three,</div> - <div class="i0">And the pluck they display'd</div> - <div class="i1">Were quite frightful to see,</div> - <div class="i0">And at first you would scarcely believe it,</div> - <div class="i1">But the same is asserted by <span class="smcapa">ME</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Twas one of their foes'</div> - <div class="i1">Diabolical whims,</div> - <div class="i0">To the flames to expose</div> - <div class="i1">The martyr's bare limbs.</div> - <div class="i0">But Denys, for one, didn't mind it,</div> - <div class="i1">He lay and sang psalms—likewise hymns.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And then he was placed</div> - <div class="i1">In a den of wild beasts</div> - <div class="i0">With a preference of taste</div> - <div class="i1">For martyrs and priests;</div> - <div class="i0">But Denys, by <em>crossing</em>, so tamed them,</div> - <div class="i1">They turned from such cannibal feasts.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Next Denys was cast</div> - <div class="i1">In a furnace of fire;</div> - <div class="i0">All thinking at last</div> - <div class="i1">He'd have to expire;</div> - <div class="i0">But the flame sank so low in a minute,</div> - <div class="i1">No bellows could make it rise higher.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And when he'd been hung</div> - <div class="i1">On the cross for a spell,</div> - <div class="i0">St. Denys was flung</div> - <div class="i1">With his friends in a cell,</div> - <div class="i0">As narrow and close as a coffin,</div> - <div class="i1">And dark as H E double L.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Said the judge, stern and curt,</div> - <div class="i1">"Bring the captives to me."</div> - <div class="i0">When he found them unhurt</div> - <div class="i1">He cried, "Can this be?</div> - <div class="i0">We are ruin'd by Christian endeavor;"</div> - <div class="i1">And he meant to destroy the whole three.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> - <div class="i0">On the Saints, who had long</div> - <div class="i1">Withstood such attacks,</div> - <div class="i0">The foe came out strong</div> - <div class="i1">With their tortures and racks.</div> - <div class="i0">At last, by the Governor's order,</div> - <div class="i1">Their heads were cut off with an axe.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Do we sleep? do we dream?"</div> - <div class="i1">All the witnesses shout;</div> - <div class="i0">"Are men what they seem?</div> - <div class="i1">Or is witchcraft about?"</div> - <div class="i0">For quickly the corpse of St. Denys</div> - <div class="i1">Rose up, and began to walk out!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He took up his head,</div> - <div class="i1">Tuck'd it under his arm,</div> - <div class="i0">And the same, it is said,</div> - <div class="i1">Caused surprise and alarm;</div> - <div class="i0">Each eye on the marvel was fasten'd</div> - <div class="i1">As if by some magical charm.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cut down to his neck,</div> - <div class="i1">Like a flower to its stalk,</div> - <div class="i0">The Saint met a check</div> - <div class="i1">When he first tried to walk:</div> - <div class="i0">But soon he felt stronger than Weston</div> - <div class="i1">Or Webb—by a very long chalk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And angels, we're told,</div> - <div class="i1">Led his footsteps along;</div> - <div class="i0">While heavenwards rolled</div> - <div class="i1">Their chorus of song;</div> - <div class="i0">They led him two leagues from the city,</div> - <div class="i1">To see that he didn't go wrong.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I hope you'll believe</div> - <div class="i1">That this story is fact,</div> - <div class="i0">For I scorn to deceive,</div> - <div class="i1">And refuse to retract;</div> - <div class="i0">For truth I've a great reputation,</div> - <div class="i1">And wish to preserve it intact.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which is why I observe—</div> - <div class="i1">And my statement is true—</div> - <div class="i0">That for ways that unnerve,</div> - <div class="i1">And for deeds that out-do,</div> - <div class="i0">St. Denys of France was peculiar,</div> - <div class="i1">And the same I have proved unto you.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Lays of the Saintly</em>, by Walter Parke (Vizetelly and Co.) -London, 1882.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HAT</span> I<span class="smcapa">NFIDEL</span> E<span class="smcapa">ARL</span>!</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Plain Language from Artless Ahmed, Istamboul.</em>)</p> - -<p class="center">A<span class="smcapa">IR</span>—"That Heathen Chinee."</p> - -<p class="center">S<span class="smcapa">ULTAN</span> <em>sings</em>—</p> - - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">I—aside—may remark,—</div> - <div class="i3">And I mean to speak plain,—</div> - <div class="i2">That for games that are dark,</div> - <div class="i3">Masked by manners urbane,</div> - <div class="i0">That Infidel Earl licks me hollow—</div> - <div class="i0">And <em>I</em> am no novice inane.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">D<span class="smcapa">UFFER-IN</span> is his name,</div> - <div class="i3">But I'm bound to deny,</div> - <div class="i2">In regard to the same,</div> - <div class="i3">What that name might imply.</div> - <div class="i0">Though his smile is so pleasant and placid,</div> - <div class="i0">A Sheitan there lurks in each eye.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Istamboul was the spot</div> - <div class="i3">Where we played, and you'd guess</div> - <div class="i2">That the Giaour got it hot—</div> - <div class="i3">Found himself in a mess.</div> - <div class="i0">Yet he played it on me, did that Giaour,</div> - <div class="i0">In a way that was loathsome—no less.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">We sat down to the game,</div> - <div class="i3">D<span class="smcapa">UFFER-IN</span> took a hand;</div> - <div class="i2">I felt sure that the same</div> - <div class="i3"><em>He</em> could not understand;</div> - <div class="i0">But he smiled as he sat at the table</div> - <div class="i0">With the smile that was placid and bland.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2"><em>My</em> cards were well stocked,—</div> - <div class="i3">As no doubt you'll believe,—</div> - <div class="i2">And I felt—<em>don't</em> be shocked!—</div> - <div class="i3">I'd "a bit up my sleeve."</div> - <div class="i0">For when playing with sons of burnt fathers</div> - <div class="i0">Our <em>duty's</em> to dupe and deceive.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">But the hands which were played</div> - <div class="i3">By that dog D<span class="smcapa">UFFER-IN</span>,</div> - <div class="i2">And the tricks that he made,</div> - <div class="i3">Were a shame, and a sin,</div> - <div class="i0">Till at last I was "bested" completely,</div> - <div class="i0">And the Giaour scored a palpable win.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Then I felt that <em>my</em> guile</div> - <div class="i3">Was but simple and slight,</div> - <div class="i2">And he rose, with a smile,</div> - <div class="i3">And he said, "<em>That's</em> all right!</div> - <div class="i0">Think I'll take the next turn with dear T<span class="smcapa">EWFIK</span>!"</div> - <div class="i0">And he started for Cairo that night.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">In the little game there</div> - <div class="i3">I may not take a hand;</div> - <div class="i2">But, my T<span class="smcapa">EWFIK</span>, beware!</div> - <div class="i3">He is gentle and bland,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet he'll probably give you a hiding,—</div> - <div class="i0">Few games that he'll <em>not</em> understand.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Be the game short or long,</div> - <div class="i3">He's ne'er flurried nor stuck.</div> - <div class="i2">His lead is <em>so</em> strong,</div> - <div class="i3">He has Sheitan's own luck;</div> - <div class="i0">And you'll find in this goose—as I thought him—</div> - <div class="i0">What occurs to geese—<em>sometimes</em>—that's "pluck."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Which is why I remark,</div> - <div class="i3">Though I own it with pain,</div> - <div class="i2">That for games that are dark,</div> - <div class="i3">Masked by manners urbane,</div> - <div class="i0">That Infidel Earl licks me hollow,</div> - <div class="i0">And I don't want to play <em>him</em> again!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Punch</em>, November 11, 1882.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>F<span class="smcapa">URTHER</span> L<span class="smcapa">ANGUAGE FROM</span> T<span class="smcapa">RUTHFUL</span> J<span class="smcapa">AMES</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Do I sleep? do I dream?</div> - <div class="i1">Do I wander and doubt?</div> - <div class="i0">Are things what they seem?</div> - <div class="i1">Or is visions about?</div> - <div class="i0">Is our civilisation a failure?</div> - <div class="i1">Or is the Caucasian played out?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">B<span class="smcapa">RET</span> H<span class="smcapa">ARTE</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<h3>R<span class="smcapa">EMARKS ABOUT</span> O<span class="smcapa">THELLO</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Do I sleep? Do I dream?</div> - <div class="i1">Do I wonder and doubt?</div> - <div class="i0">Are things what they seem,</div> - <div class="i1">Or is libels about?</div> - <div class="i0">Has the Eminent I. scored a failure?</div> - <div class="i1">Or is the tragedian played out?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Which questions is strong;</div> - <div class="i1">Yet I would but imply</div> - <div class="i0">That to them I much long</div> - <div class="i1">To get a reply—</div> - <div class="i0">Seeing things is kinder mixed up so,</div> - <div class="i1">Or, leastways, they seem so to I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">How he got up his name</div> - <div class="i1">I needn't relate;</div> - <div class="i0">Though, regarding that same,</div> - <div class="i1">He owed Colonel Bate-</div> - <div class="i0">Man some thanks for the way that he publish'd</div> - <div class="i1">The fact that his genius was great.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then 'twas said with one breath</div> - <div class="i1">Perfection was he,</div> - <div class="i0">From the "Bells" to "Macbeth"</div> - <div class="i1">He was as good as could be—</div> - <div class="i0">He came, and he play'd, and he conquer'd—</div> - <div class="i1">Like a melodramatic J. C.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And all London went wild</div> - <div class="i1">O'er this Eminent I.,</div> - <div class="i0">Save a party that smiled,</div> - <div class="i1">And thought it good fun;</div> - <div class="i0">But as for the late William Shakespeare,</div> - <div class="i1">He never had had such a run.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the public fell down</div> - <div class="i1">As though in a trance;</div> - <div class="i0">And the West-End of town</div> - <div class="i1">Booked their stalls in advance;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst the critics wrote furlongs of praises,</div> - <div class="i1">His triumph to further enhance.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the management, gaily,</div> - <div class="i1">Its hand on its heart,</div> - <div class="i0">Did advertise, daily,</div> - <div class="i1">Its love of high art;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst F<span class="smcapa">IGARO</span> smiled somewhat drily,</div> - <div class="i1">And murmured, "O here's a droll start!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But at last came a night—</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas "Othello" you'll guess;</div> - <div class="i0">And thought I (well I might),</div> - <div class="i1">"Ah! another success!"</div> - <div class="i0">But the papers next morning—O pizen!</div> - <div class="i1">They upset this view, I confess.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For I dare not repeat</div> - <div class="i1">The things that were said:—</div> - <div class="i0">Of a mop-stem on feet—</div> - <div class="i1">In one weekly I read—</div> - <div class="i0">With its arms like a pair of pump-handles,</div> - <div class="i1">And the mop dipped in ink for the head.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And another remarked</div> - <div class="i1">That his voice wasn't clear,</div> - <div class="i0">And the more the Moor barked,</div> - <div class="i1">The less he could hear;</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst a third liken'd him in the death scene,</div> - <div class="i1">To a curate whose dreams had been queer.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Scarce a paper I scann'd</div> - <div class="i1">Had the old-fashioned praise;</div> - <div class="i0">But on every hand</div> - <div class="i1">I read with amaze,</div> - <div class="i0">That the Eminent I. got a "slating"</div> - <div class="i1">Not frequently giv'n in these days.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And, thought I, this is odd!</div> - <div class="i1">To turn round in this way:</div> - <div class="i0">One day he's a god—</div> - <div class="i1">Or, so they all say—</div> - <div class="i0">And the next night they call him eccentric,</div> - <div class="i1">Which isn't to my mind, fair play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He ain't a-gone wrong</div> - <div class="i1">Like this in a day;</div> - <div class="i0">He's been wrong all along</div> - <div class="i1">In the same kind of way;</div> - <div class="i0">And the faults they have damned in "Othello"</div> - <div class="i1">They praised in—well, "Hamlet," I'll say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So that's why I remark,</div> - <div class="i1">And would wish to maintain,</div> - <div class="i0">That for hair long and dark,</div> - <div class="i1">And a voice that was pain-</div> - <div class="i0">Ful, the Eminent I. was peculiar—</div> - <div class="i1">But I don't think he'll try it again.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Figaro</em>, March 4, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>G<span class="smcapa">ALAHAD.</span> "A superficial imitation is easy -enough, but I shall certainly fail to reproduce -his subtle wit and pathos." (<em>Reads.</em>)</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">RUTHFUL</span> J<span class="smcapa">AMES'S</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">HIRT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Which his name it was Sam;</div> - <div class="i7">He had sluiced for a while</div> - <div class="i6">Up at Murderer's Dam,</div> - <div class="i7">Till he got a good pile,</div> - <div class="i6">And the heft of each dollar,</div> - <div class="i7">Two thousand or more,</div> - <div class="i6">He'd put in the Chollar,</div> - <div class="i7">For he seed it was ore</div> - <div class="i0">That runs thick up and down, without ceilin' or floor.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">And, says he, it's a game</div> - <div class="i7">That's got but one stake;</div> - <div class="i6">If I put up that same,</div> - <div class="i7">It'll bust me or make.</div> - <div class="i6">At fifty the foot</div> - <div class="i7">I've entered my pile,</div> - <div class="i6">And the whole derned cahoot</div> - <div class="i7">I'll let soak for a while,</div> - <div class="i0">And jest loaf around here,—say, Jim, will you smile?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Tom Fakes was the chum,</div> - <div class="i7">Down in Frisco, of Sam;</div> - <div class="i6">And one mornin' there come</div> - <div class="i7">These here telegram:</div> - <div class="i6">"You can sell for five hundred,</div> - <div class="i7">Come down by the train!"</div> - <div class="i6">Sam By-Joed and By-Thundered,—</div> - <div class="i7">'Twas whistlin' quite plain,</div> - <div class="i0">And down to Dutch Flat rushed with might and with main.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">He had no time to sarch,</div> - <div class="i7">But he grabbed up a shirt</div> - <div class="i6">That showed bilin' and starch,</div> - <div class="i7">And a coat with less dirt.</div> - <div class="i6">He jumped on the step</div> - <div class="i7">As the train shoved away,</div> - <div class="i6">And likewise was swep',</div> - <div class="i7">All galliant and gay,</div> - <div class="i0">Round the edge of the mounting and down to'rds the Bay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> - <div class="i6">Seven minutes, to pass</div> - <div class="i7">Through the hole by the Flat!</div> - <div class="i6">Says he, I'm an ass</div> - <div class="i7">If I can't shift in that!</div> - <div class="i6">But the train behind time,</div> - <div class="i7">Only <em>three</em> was enough,—</div> - <div class="i6">It came pat as a rhyme—</div> - <div class="i7">He was stripped to the buff</div> - <div class="i0">When they jumped from the tunnel to daylight! 'Twas rough.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">What else? Here's to you!</div> - <div class="i7">Which he sold of his feet</div> - <div class="i6">At five hundred, 'tis true,</div> - <div class="i7">And the same I repeat:</div> - <div class="i6">But acquaintances, friends,</div> - <div class="i7">They likes to divert,</div> - <div class="i6">And the tale never ends</div> - <div class="i7">Of Sam and his shirt,</div> - <div class="i0">And to stop it from goin' he'd give all his dirt!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Diversions of the Echo Club.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following admirable parody of Bret -Harte's pathetic poems on miner's life in California -was written by Mr. Charles H. Ross, the -Editor of <em>Judy</em>. It is a favourite recitation -with Mr. Odell, the popular actor:—</p> - - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">LOOMIN</span>' F<span class="smcapa">LOWER OF</span> R<span class="smcapa">ORTY</span> G<span class="smcapa">ULCH</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">T</span> war Bob war the Bloomin' Flower,</div> - <div class="i1">They know'd him on Poker Flat;</div> - <div class="i0">He'd gouged a few down Gilgal way,</div> - <div class="i1">But no one complained o' that.</div> - <div class="i0">He scored his stiffs<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> on the heft of his knife—</div> - <div class="i1">Forty I've heern 'em say;</div> - <div class="i0">It might have been more—Bob kept his accounts</div> - <div class="i1">In a loosish sorter way.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Bob warn't a angel ter look at,</div> - <div class="i1">And the Bible it warn't <em>his</em> book;</div> - <div class="i0">He swore the most oaths that war swor'd in the camp,</div> - <div class="i1">Or blarmedly I am mistook;</div> - <div class="i0">But he warn't a outen-out bad 'un,</div> - <div class="i1">And he'd got a heart you could touch;</div> - <div class="i0">And he never draw'd iron<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> on boy or man</div> - <div class="i1">As didn't pervoke him much.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And you can't say fair as drinking</div> - <div class="i1">War counted among his sins;</div> - <div class="i0">For at nary a sittin' would he put down</div> - <div class="i1">More nor fifteen whisky skins.</div> - <div class="i0">But one day we was drinkin' and jawin',</div> - <div class="i1">Round Haggarty's bar, and I fear</div> - <div class="i0">That Haggarty riled him, bein' so slow,</div> - <div class="i1">So he jist sliced off Haggarty's ear.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then Haggarty went for him savage,</div> - <div class="i1">Instead of a-holding his jor;</div> - <div class="i0">And Bob went for his 'leven-inch knife,</div> - <div class="i1">And scatter'd Hag's scraps on the floor.</div> - <div class="i0">One of Hag's friends then drew upon Bob,</div> - <div class="i1">And shot Joe Harris instead;</div> - <div class="i0">And I take it the bar floor got at last</div> - <div class="i1">'Bout knee-deep in red.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But when the fun was over in there,</div> - <div class="i1">Bob ran a-muck in the street;</div> - <div class="i0">And he speared and potted each derned cuss</div> - <div class="i1">As he chanced to meet.</div> - <div class="i0">And quiet folks shut up their doors—</div> - <div class="i1">They thought it safer, you see—</div> - <div class="i0">All but a man with his wife and child,</div> - <div class="i1">That was settin' down to tea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Into their parlour rushed Bloomin' Bob,</div> - <div class="i1">To that father and mother's surprise:</div> - <div class="i0">Jobb'd his bowie through one, and took</div> - <div class="i1">The tother between the eyes.</div> - <div class="i0">Then he clutched the innocent slumb'rin' babe,</div> - <div class="i1">Jist meanin' to knock out its brains;</div> - <div class="i0">But at that moment there reach'd his ear</div> - <div class="i0">Some long-forgotten strains.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Some soft and touching music this,</div> - <div class="i1">Music solemn and sweet,</div> - <div class="i0">Played by a common organ-man</div> - <div class="i1">Down at the end of the street.</div> - <div class="i0">And it went straight home to the digger's heart,</div> - <div class="i1">And he did not squelch the child,</div> - <div class="i0">But lay it down in its little cot,</div> - <div class="i1">And rocked the same—and smiled!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Talk soft! They say the angels</div> - <div class="i1">That night smole down on Bob;</div> - <div class="i0">And a sorter radiant halo</div> - <div class="i1">Gleamed brightly round his nob.</div> - <div class="i0">I can't swear to all this for certain,</div> - <div class="i1">And it do seem a queerish start;</div> - <div class="i0">But I won't set by and hear none o' you say</div> - <div class="i1">Bob hadn't a tender heart!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">———♦———</p> - - - - -<h2><a name="C_WOLFES_ODE" id="C_WOLFES_ODE"></a>C. Wolfe's Ode.</h2> - - -<p>Since Part VII. appeared, containing the -parodies on the above, a correspondent has -kindly sent the following, which recently appeared -in a Durham newspaper:—</p> - - -<h3>A M<span class="smcapa">OONLIGHT</span> F<span class="smcapa">LIT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">S<span class="smcapa">CARCE</span> a sound was heard, not a word was spoke,</div> - <div class="i1">As a van down the back way they hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">For some tenants were bolting, not paying their rent,</div> - <div class="i1">And looking confoundedly flurried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They'd packed up in silence at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">And, having no thought of returning,</div> - <div class="i0">Had nailed up the shutters to keep in the light</div> - <div class="i1">Of the paraffin-lamp left a-burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But just as they'd got the loading done,</div> - <div class="i1">And with the last chair were retiring,</div> - <div class="i0">They heard the butcher (that son of a gun)</div> - <div class="i1">At the door for his money inquiring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sharp and short was the answer he got—</div> - <div class="i1">They told him "It gave them much sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">It wasn't convenient to settle just then,</div> - <div class="i1">But they'd certainly do so to-morrow."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly they hurried away</div> - <div class="i1">From that snug little house of one storey,</div> - <div class="i0">Chucked the key in the water-butt, out of harm's way,</div> - <div class="i1">And left it alone in its glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Loudly they'll talk of the tenants now gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And the landlords will say they were rum 'uns;</div> - <div class="i0">But little they'll care if he lets them alone,</div> - <div class="i1">And don't find them out with a summons.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">A<span class="smcapa">NONYMOUS</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Two old parodies of the same original, on -theatrical matters, may also, for the sake of -completeness, be inserted here. They are both -taken from <em>The Man in the Moon</em>, which was a -small comic magazine, edited by the late Angus -B. Reach, with many funny illustrations by -Hine, Sala, and other humorous artists. <em>The -Man in the Moon</em> was started in 1847, and five -volumes in all were issued; its contents are -now, of course, somewhat out of date, but there -are some clever parodies which will be inserted -in this collection—many of these parodies were, -no doubt, from the facile pen of Albert Smith, -who was one of the principal contributors to the -magazine.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF</span> P<span class="smcapa">ANTOMIME</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Stanzas of</em> 1846-7.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a laugh was heard, not a topical joke,</div> - <div class="i1">As its corpse to oblivion we hurried,</div> - <div class="i0">Not a paper a word in its favour spoke</div> - <div class="i1">On the pantomime going to be buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We buried it after the Boxing night,</div> - <div class="i1">The folks from our galleries turning,</div> - <div class="i0">For we knew that it scarcely would pay for the light</div> - <div class="i1">Of the star in the last act burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless play-bill put forth a puff,</div> - <div class="i1">How splendid the public had found it.</div> - <div class="i0">But it lay like a piece that had been call'd "Stuff,"</div> - <div class="i1">With a very wet blanket round it.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Stoutly and long all the audience hiss'd,</div> - <div class="i1">When they found neither sense nor reason;</div> - <div class="i0">But we steadfastly dwelt on the points we had miss'd</div> - <div class="i1">And we bitterly thought of next season.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought, when we felt it was really dead,</div> - <div class="i1">As we pass'd old Covent Garden,</div> - <div class="i0">That Opera and Ballet would take up its place,</div> - <div class="i1">And we not be worth half a farden.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Loudly old gentlemen still will prate,</div> - <div class="i1">As they always do, of past actors;</div> - <div class="i0">But we know that poor Mathews' and Howell's fate</div> - <div class="i1">Was as bad as a malefactors.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we laid it down,</div> - <div class="i1">For we knew that we couldn't make bad well,</div> - <div class="i0">And we felt that the <em>prestige</em> was vanish'd at last,</div> - <div class="i1">But we drank to the health of poor Bradwell.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Man in the Moon</em>, Volume 1.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF</span> P<span class="smcapa">HILIP</span> V<span class="smcapa">AN</span> A<span class="smcapa">RTEVELDE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Princess's Theatre</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a house was drawn—not a five-pound-note—</div> - <div class="i1">So his run to its closing we hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a listener could follow his hazy plot,</div> - <div class="i1">So the dreary abortion we buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We buried him, sadly, one Friday night,</div> - <div class="i1">For our hopes were gone past returning;</div> - <div class="i0">And the manager's pangs were a moving sight,</div> - <div class="i1">By the foot-lights dimly burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All bare and exposed to the critics lash,</div> - <div class="i1">On that luckless stage we found him—</div> - <div class="i0">On that stage where he deemed he should cut such a dash,</div> - <div class="i1">With armour and mobs around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few were the words which the manager said,</div> - <div class="i1">To soothe the tragedian's sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">But they glared at each other with looks which made</div> - <div class="i1">Us hope they would fight on the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They doubtless thought, though their tongues they held,</div> - <div class="i1">That of all the dreadful messes,</div> - <div class="i0">A sadder than Philip Van Artevelde,</div> - <div class="i1">Had never disgraced the Princess's.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Loudly the manager told what he spent—</div> - <div class="i1">And he said that Macready had made him—</div> - <div class="i0">Ah! little attention the "Eminent" paid,</div> - <div class="i1">But coolly let Maddox upbraid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But now was our dreary duty done—</div> - <div class="i1">Our sleep-moving drama retiring,</div> - <div class="i0">From the distant jeer and the cutting pun,</div> - <div class="i1">Which the foe were constantly firing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we laid it down</div> - <div class="i1">That a poem, which is famed in story,</div> - <div class="i0">Be it writ in a book, be it carved on a stone,</div> - <div class="i1">Should be left there alone in its glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Man in the Moon</em>, Volume 3.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF THE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ILLS</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Parody apropos to present circumstances, August</em>, 1884.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a joke was heard, not a troublesome vote,</div> - <div class="i1">As the bills into limbo they hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not e'en I<span class="smcapa">NGLIS</span> discharged a farewell shot,</div> - <div class="i1">O'er the grave where the Jew-Bill was buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They buried them darkly at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">For bed all the members yearning;</div> - <div class="i0">With the aid of the Speaker to keep them right,</div> - <div class="i1">And G<span class="smcapa">REEN'S</span> parliamentary learning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No vain discussion their life supprest,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor did truth nor talk confound them;</div> - <div class="i0">They passed a few, and as for the rest,</div> - <div class="i1">They burked them just as they found them.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For most of the Session's task was done,</div> - <div class="i1">The supplies marked the hour for retiring;</div> - <div class="i0">And as August drew near, each son of a gun,</div> - <div class="i1">At the grouse, in his dreams, was a-firing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So they settled the Bills—other folks' and their own—</div> - <div class="i1">Never destined to figure in story;</div> - <div class="i0">They shed not a tear, and they heaved not a groan,</div> - <div class="i1">But they burked them alike, Whig and Tory!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Punch</em>, 1850.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A T<span class="smcapa">ALE OF A</span> T<span class="smcapa">UB</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a cackle was heard, or matitudinal crow,</div> - <div class="i1">As the cask to the orchard they barrowed;</div> - <div class="i0">And gently and tenderly laid him below,</div> - <div class="i1">Where some ground had been recently harrowed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> - <div class="i0">The tears trickled slowly down Emma's fair check,</div> - <div class="i1">While Ned sobbed aloud in his fustian,</div> - <div class="i0">And Marian's feelings forbade her to speak</div> - <div class="i1">For fear of spontaneous combustion.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They gazed on his coat of cerulean blue,</div> - <div class="i1">Ana silently gauged his dimensions,</div> - <div class="i0">Then covered him up with a hurdle or two</div> - <div class="i1">To balk the sly foxes' intentions.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then slowly and sadly they turned them away,</div> - <div class="i1">With their hearts overladen with sorrow:</div> - <div class="i0">Said Emma, "Bedad! he is safe for to-day."</div> - <div class="i1">Said Ned, "We must tap him to-morrow."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Alas! Ere the dawn of another to-day,</div> - <div class="i1">There only was weeping and wailing;</div> - <div class="i0">That beautiful tub had been carried away,</div> - <div class="i1">Or had leaked through a gap in the pailing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the Beaks, when applied to, just wagged their old heads,</div> - <div class="i1">And said, "Since for advice you must ask us,"</div> - <div class="i0">Don't bury your casks in your strawberry beds,</div> - <div class="i1">Lest men take them by <em>Habeas Caskus!</em>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> E. A<span class="smcapa">LLEN</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>(The touching incident described in these -affecting lines occurred to some friends who, for -fear of an explosion, buried a cask of paraffine -oil in their garden; a midnight robber despoiled -them of their spirit, and they could not make -light of it.)</p> - - -<p class="center">———♦———</p> - - -<h2>Alfred, Lord Tennyson.</h2> - -<p class="center">P<span class="smcapa">OET</span> L<span class="smcapa">AUREATE.</span></p> - - -<p>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> first four parts of this collection were -devoted to parodies of the works of the Poet -Laureate, a few examples being given of the -imitations of each of his more important poems. -Numerous subscribers have requested that the -collection should be continued, so that the first -volume might contain as nearly a complete set -of parodies on Tennyson's works as it is possible -to form. With this view many additional contributions -have been sent in; whilst some that -have quite recently appeared, and a few that -were previously omitted as being too lengthy, -will now be included. Independently of the -amusing nature of many of the parodies still to -be given, collectors of <em>Tennysoniana</em> will appreciate -the completeness thus to be obtained, and -it will be seen that very few of Tennyson's -poems have escaped parody.</p> - -<p>Although it may appear that the imitations -now to be given will come somewhat out of -order, no inconvenience will eventually result, -as the index will show, in a tabulated form, -under the head of each <em>original</em> poem every -parody of it. The order adopted in the recent -editions of the Laureate's poems will be followed -in this further collection, and the parodies -will illustrate Mariana; Circumstance; The -Palace of Art; Riflemen Form; Lady Clara -Vere de Vere; The May Queen; The Dream of -Fair Women; "You Ask Me Why;" "Of Old -Sat Freedom;" Tithonus; Locksley Hall; Lady -Godiva; The Lord of Burleigh; The Voyage; -Enoch Arden; The Brook; The Princess; -Alexandra; In Memoriam; Maud; Hands All -Round; and the Idyls of the King.</p> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> H<span class="smcapa">AYMARKET</span> T<span class="smcapa">HEATRE ON THE</span> O<span class="smcapa">CCASION</span> <span class="smcapa">OF THE</span> -R<span class="smcapa">EVIVAL OF A</span> D<span class="smcapa">ULL</span> O<span class="smcapa">LD</span> F<span class="smcapa">IVE-ACT</span> P<span class="smcapa">LAY</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With kindest friends, each private box</div> - <div class="i1">Was thickly peopled one and all;</div> - <div class="i0">The busy tongues fell at the knocks</div> - <div class="i1">The prompter gave against the wall.</div> - <div class="i0">The grand tiers' heads look'd old and strange,</div> - <div class="i1">Unresting was box-keeper's key,</div> - <div class="i1">For those who something came to see,</div> - <div class="i0">Within the dismal five-acts' range.</div> - <div class="i3">She only said, "It readeth dreary;</div> - <div class="i4">No pathos and no fun."</div> - <div class="i3">She said, "I am aweary, aweary,</div> - <div class="i4">Before it hath begun."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Her yawns came with the first act even;</div> - <div class="i1">Her yawns came ere the third was tried.</div> - <div class="i0">She had been listening from seven,</div> - <div class="i1">With nought to praise, nor to deride.</div> - <div class="i0">After the friends forgot to clap,</div> - <div class="i1">Which very soon they ceased to do,</div> - <div class="i1">She drew the box's curtains too,</div> - <div class="i0">And thought, "I'll take a little nap."</div> - <div class="i3">She only said, "The play is dreary;</div> - <div class="i4">No pathos, and no fun,"</div> - <div class="i3">She only said, "I am aweary, aweary,</div> - <div class="i4">I would that it were done."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The hazy nature of the plot;</div> - <div class="i1">The box locks clicking; and the sound</div> - <div class="i0">Which to the actors on the stage</div> - <div class="i1">The prompter made, did all confound</div> - <div class="i0">Her sense; but most she loathed the power</div> - <div class="i1">Which could get acted such a play,</div> - <div class="i1">When they would nothing have to say</div> - <div class="i0">To pieces of the present hour.</div> - <div class="i3">Then said she, "This is very dreary!</div> - <div class="i4">This must not be," she said;</div> - <div class="i3">"Sooner than feel again so weary,</div> - <div class="i4">I'd go right home to bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>The Man in the Moon</em>, Volume 2, 1848.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> E<span class="smcapa">XILED</span> L<span class="smcapa">ONDONER</span>.</h3> - -<p>"Since I have been at this place I have lost as many as -three copies of <em>The Times</em> in a week, while <em>Punch</em> was as -regularly stolen as it was posted."—<em>Times</em>, January 10.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> black <em>ennui</em> the Exile sits,</div> - <div class="i1">Watching the rain-drops as they fall;</div> - <div class="i0">The bluebottle about him flits,</div> - <div class="i1">That ate the peach on the garden wall.</div> - <div class="i0">No <em>Times</em> nor <em>Punch</em>, 'tis very strange;</div> - <div class="i1">Unlifted is the iron latch;</div> - <div class="i0">Of papers he's without the batch</div> - <div class="i1">That gives his days their only change.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> - <div class="i0">At first he only said, "Oh deary!</div> - <div class="i1">The post is late," he said;</div> - <div class="i0">"Of waiting I am rather weary,</div> - <div class="i1">I would my <em>Punch</em> I'd read."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">About the middle of the day</div> - <div class="i1">The postman's form its shadow cast,</div> - <div class="i0">The door he sought with footsteps gay,</div> - <div class="i1">The <em>Times</em> and <em>Punch</em> are here at last.</div> - <div class="i0">Out with them; but 'tis very strange,</div> - <div class="i1">The envelope is open torn—</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis but the <em>Herald</em> of the morn;</div> - <div class="i0">His paper they have dared to change.</div> - <div class="i0">He only said, "The <em>Herald</em>'s dreary,</div> - <div class="i1">Dreary, indeed," he said;</div> - <div class="i0">"It's very look has made me weary;</div> - <div class="i1">It never can be read."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Upon some stones—a hillock small,</div> - <div class="i1">The Londoner in exile leapt,</div> - <div class="i0">And over objects large and small</div> - <div class="i1">A telescopic watch he kept;</div> - <div class="i0">He saw the postman walk away,</div> - <div class="i1">He gazed till it was nearly dark,</div> - <div class="i1">Then only made this sad remark,</div> - <div class="i0">"Nor <em>Times</em> nor <em>Punch</em> will come to-day."</div> - <div class="i1">He only said, "'Tis very dreary</div> - <div class="i0">They do not come," he said;</div> - <div class="i1">"While I for want of them am weary,</div> - <div class="i0">They're elsewhere being read."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And even when the moon was low,</div> - <div class="i1">And the shrill winds a game did play,</div> - <div class="i0">Blowing the sign-boards to and fro,</div> - <div class="i1">As if 'twould blow them right away;</div> - <div class="i0">He'd with the spider, as it climbs,</div> - <div class="i1">Hold converse—asking if 'twould tell</div> - <div class="i0">Whether the postman dared to sell</div> - <div class="i1">The weekly <em>Punch</em> and daily <em>Times</em>.</div> - <div class="i0">He only said, "'Tis very dreary,</div> - <div class="i1">Dreary, indeed," he said;</div> - <div class="i0">"Of life I'm almost getting weary,</div> - <div class="i1">My <em>Times</em> and <em>Punch</em> unread."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All day within the dreamy house</div> - <div class="i1">His shoes had in the passage creak'd;</div> - <div class="i0">The maid-of-all-work, like a mouse,</div> - <div class="i1">Out of her master's presence sneak'd,</div> - <div class="i0">Or from the kitchen peer'd about,</div> - <div class="i1">Or listen'd at the open doors,</div> - <div class="i1">To hear his footsteps tread the floors</div> - <div class="i0">With the short hurried pace of doubt.</div> - <div class="i0">She only said, "My master's weary,</div> - <div class="i1">And angry, too," she said;</div> - <div class="i0">She said, "Oh deary me! oh deary!</div> - <div class="i1">I wish he'd go to bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The crickets chirrup on the hearth,</div> - <div class="i1">The slow clock ticking—and the sound</div> - <div class="i0">Of rain upon the gravel path</div> - <div class="i1">That hems the Exile's cottage round;</div> - <div class="i0">All these, but most of all the power</div> - <div class="i1">Of sleep after an anxious day,</div> - <div class="i1">Up-stairs had hurried him away.</div> - <div class="i0">He paced his chamber for an hour,</div> - <div class="i0">Then said he, "This, indeed, is dreary,</div> - <div class="i1">My <em>Times</em>, my <em>Punch</em>," he said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Without you I am always weary;</div> - <div class="i1">I'll tumble into bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, January 22, 1848.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>L<span class="smcapa">ORD</span> T<span class="smcapa">OMNODDY IN THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">INAL</span> S<span class="smcapa">CHOOLS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> blackest ink the books around</div> - <div class="i1">Were thickly blotted one and all;</div> - <div class="i0">The very nails looked half unsound</div> - <div class="i1">That held the pictures to the wall.</div> - <div class="i0">The dismal scene was wrapped in gloom,</div> - <div class="i1">Sported was the unsocial oak:</div> - <div class="i1">Seedy and torn and thick with smoke</div> - <div class="i0">The curtains hung athwart the room.</div> - <div class="i0">He only said, "The schools are dreary:</div> - <div class="i1">This Euclid racks my head.</div> - <div class="i0">Of Ethics I am very weary;</div> - <div class="i1">I shall be ploughed," he said.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His sighs came with the lightening heaven,</div> - <div class="i1">And ever through the day he sighed.</div> - <div class="i0">He could not play in the Eleven,</div> - <div class="i1">Or coach the Eight at eventide.</div> - <div class="i0">After the shutting of the gates,</div> - <div class="i1">He drew his casement curtain by,</div> - <div class="i1">And watched along the gleaming High</div> - <div class="i0">The lovers strolling with their mates.</div> - <div class="i0">He only said, "The schools are dreary:</div> - <div class="i1">This Euclid racks my head.</div> - <div class="i0">Ethics are the reverse of cheery;</div> - <div class="i1">I shall be ploughed," he said.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And half asleep he heard forlorn</div> - <div class="i1">The caterwauling on the roof;</div> - <div class="i0">The chapel bell rung out at morn</div> - <div class="i1">Came to him—but he held aloof.</div> - <div class="i0">In dreams he seemed to see the Halls,</div> - <div class="i1">And fatal precincts of the Schools:</div> - <div class="i1">To watch the crowd of ghastly fools,</div> - <div class="i0">Who tried in vain to pass their Smalls.</div> - <div class="i0">He only said, "The schools are dreary:</div> - <div class="i1">This Euclid racks my brain.</div> - <div class="i0">Of Ethics I am very weary;</div> - <div class="i1">I shall be ploughed again."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He sat and darkened all the air,</div> - <div class="i1">With smoke up-wreathing from his weed:</div> - <div class="i0">All day, half-dreaming in his chair,</div> - <div class="i1">He sat and read—or seemed to read—</div> - <div class="i0">Or from the window peered about.</div> - <div class="i1">His friends still hammered at his door;</div> - <div class="i1">He heard them on the upper floor;</div> - <div class="i0">Their voices called him from without.</div> - <div class="i0">He only said, "The schools are nearing;</div> - <div class="i1">I cannot come," said he.</div> - <div class="i0">"Although of Ethics I am wearying,</div> - <div class="i1">I shall be ploughed, you'll see."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For hours he sat, without a pause,</div> - <div class="i1">And snored o'er Plato's sage debate</div> - <div class="i0">Of the Republic and the Laws:</div> - <div class="i1">Both these his brain did obfuscate</div> - <div class="i0">But most of all he loathed the power</div> - <div class="i1">Of <em>x</em> + <em>y</em>, whose depths profound</div> - <div class="i1">Long-winded dons would oft expound,</div> - <div class="i0">And moralise on by the hour.</div> - <div class="i0">Then said he, "I am very weary,</div> - <div class="i1">This Euclid racks my brain.</div> - <div class="i0">Mansell and Mill are very dreary;</div> - <div class="i1">I shall be ploughed again!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">H. C. I., Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN'S</span> C<span class="smcapa">OLLEGE</span>, O<span class="smcapa">XFORD</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>College Rhymes</em> (T. and G. Shrimpton), Oxford, 1868.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A F<span class="smcapa">RAGMENT.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They lifted him with kindly care;</div> - <div class="i1">They took him by the heels and head;</div> - <div class="i0">Across the floor, and up the stair,</div> - <div class="i1">They bore him safely to his bed.</div> - <div class="i0">They wrapped the blankets warm and tight,</div> - <div class="i1">And round about his nose and chin</div> - <div class="i1">They drew the sheets, and tucked them in,</div> - <div class="i0">And whispered: "Poor old boy, good-night!"</div> - <div class="i0">He murmured, "Boys, oh, deary, deary,</div> - <div class="i1">That punch <em>was</em> strong," he said;</div> - <div class="i0">He said: "I am aweary, weary—</div> - <div class="i1">Thank heaven, I've got to bed!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Australian Paper.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>AUGUST THE TWELFTH.</h3> - -<p class="p6">O<span class="smcapa">VER</span>-N<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> must wake, and call me early—call me early—Willie Weir,</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow is the glorious Twelfth, that comes but once a year;</div> - <div class="i0">The cockneys and the keepers will all be out of doors,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to shoot over the moors, Willie—I'm to shoot over the moors.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a pack of pointers, but none that point likemine;</div> - <div class="i0">There's Paragon and Pincher—there's Kit and Keelavine,</div> - <div class="i0">And my little Dandie Dinmont, that stands firm as any house,</div> - <div class="i0">So I'm to bag all the grouse, Willie—I'm to bag all the grouse.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sleep so soundly all the night that I shall never wake,</div> - <div class="i0">Unless you call me loudly when the dawn begins to break,</div> - <div class="i0">For I've to put on my philabeg and sporran's foxy tail,</div> - <div class="i0">To <em>look</em> like a genuine Gael, Willie, to <em>look</em> like a genuine Gael.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came up the valley, whom think you I should see?</div> - <div class="i0">Ben Moses of the Minories, he has rented Bonachree!</div> - <div class="i0">He wished to rent <em>my</em> moor, Willie, but boggled at the price,</div> - <div class="i0">So I went in by telegram, and nailed it in a trice.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Shelty Pony shall go to-morrow, to carry two fowls at least,</div> - <div class="i0">For a cockney on the hillside is a <em>very</em> ravenous beast;</div> - <div class="i0">And you shall bring the saddlebags to hold the birds I spot,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'll get my worth of the moors, Willie, at least in the powder and shot.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So you must wake me early—call me early, Willie Weir,</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow is the glorious Twelfth, that comes but once a year.</div> - <div class="i0">From Cheapside unto Chelsea, they're envying me at home,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to shoot over the moors, Willie, as far as I can roam.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">O<span class="smcapa">N THE</span> T<span class="smcapa">WELFTH</span>.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I bade you wake me early, with my shaving-jug and brogues,</div> - <div class="i0">But Scotch and English servants are all a pack of rogues.</div> - <div class="i0">It's the only Twelfth of August in the Highlands I shall see,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet you snored on your truckle-bed, Willie, and never thought of me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Last night I saw the sunset, he looked both wroth and red,</div> - <div class="i0">As if he knew when dawning came I'd still be lay-a-bed.</div> - <div class="i0">From crag and scaur and heather I hear the popping shot,</div> - <div class="i0">And not a single bird, Willie, has fallen to my lot.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What say you? "'Tis a soft day, the roads are runnin' burns,</div> - <div class="i0">"The heather's a' wet blankets, ye might droon ye in the ferns;</div> - <div class="i0">Ye canna see a hand forenent, the mist's sae white and chill,</div> - <div class="i0">Ye'd sune be bogged amang the muirs, and lost upon the hill."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's not a sportsman on the hills, the rain is on the pane,</div> - <div class="i0">I only wish to sleep until the sunshine comes again.</div> - <div class="i0">I wish the mist would lift, and the light break out once more,</div> - <div class="i0">I long to kill a grouse, Willie, ere the Twelfth of August's o'er.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I have been stiff and lazy, but I'll up and dress me now,</div> - <div class="i0">You'll fetch my breakfast, Willie, and my plaid before I go.</div> - <div class="i0">Nay, nay, you must not brush so hard, my very teeth you jolt,</div> - <div class="i0">You should not rub me down, Willie, as if I were a colt.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'll bring back dinner, if I can, in a brace of cock and hen,</div> - <div class="i0">But if you do not see me, you will know I've dined with Ben.</div> - <div class="i0">If I cannot speak a sober word when I come back from the toddy,</div> - <div class="i0">Just tuck me into bed, Willie, like a canny Hieland body.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Good-bye, you rascal, Willie; call me earlier in the morn,</div> - <div class="i0">Or I'll thrash you into next week, as sure as you were born;</div> - <div class="i0">For I must get my money back from grouse and hare and deer,</div> - <div class="i0">So wake, and call me early—call me early, Willie Weir.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Will-o'-the-Wisp</em>, August, 1869.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">ALA</span>-F<span class="smcapa">IDE</span> T<span class="smcapa">RAVELLERS.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Unlicensed by the Laureate.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">L<span class="smcapa">ATE</span>, late, past ten, so dark the night and chill.</div> - <div class="i0">Late, late, eleven, but we can enter still.</div> - <div class="i0">Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No thought had we the night was so far spent,</div> - <div class="i0">And, hearing this, the Bobby will relent.</div> - <div class="i0">Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No beer, though late, and dark, and chill the night.</div> - <div class="i0">O let us in, and we will not get tight!</div> - <div class="i0">Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A glass of gin to-night would be so sweet.</div> - <div class="i0">O let us in, that we may have it neat!</div> - <div class="i0">Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, November 16, 1872.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> - -<p>The following imitation of Tennyson is of -interest as having appeared forty years ago, -when the poet was comparatively unknown:—</p> - - -<h3>A F<span class="smcapa">RAGMENT</span>—C<span class="smcapa">OMPOSED IN A</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAM</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">B<span class="smcapa">Y</span> A. T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In Hungerford, did some wise man</div> - <div class="i1">A stately bridge of wire decree,</div> - <div class="i0">Where Thames, the muddy river, ran,</div> - <div class="i1">Down to a muddier sea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Above the people rose its piers,</div> - <div class="i1">Their shadows on the waters fell;</div> - <div class="i0">Year after year, for many years,</div> - <div class="i1">All unapproachable!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And filmy wires through æther spread,</div> - <div class="i0">From such proud piers' unfinished head,</div> - <div class="i0">Kept up a mild communication,</div> - <div class="i0">Worthy of their exalted station;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And many gazers far below,</div> - <div class="i1">Wafted by the waveless tide,</div> - <div class="i0">Which 'neath those slender wires did flow,</div> - <div class="i1">Upturned their eyes, and sighed—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"If that <em>air</em> bridge," they whispered low,</div> - <div class="i1">"Vos broad enough to let us pass,</div> - <div class="i0">Ve'd not av so much round to go,</div> - <div class="i1">As now ve av—alas!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, 1844.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M.P. <span class="smcapa">ON THE</span> R<span class="smcapa">AILWAY</span> C<span class="smcapa">OMMITTEE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Dedicated to Alfred Tennyson</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With shareholders in anxious lots,</div> - <div class="i1">The rooms were crowded, one and all,</div> - <div class="i0">The Barristers stood round in knots,—</div> - <div class="i1">And quite forsook Westminster Hall.</div> - <div class="i0">Sections and plans looked odd and strange;</div> - <div class="i1">And the M.P. at each new batch,</div> - <div class="i0">Weary and worn, looked at his watch,</div> - <div class="i1">In hopes the Counsel to derange.</div> - <div class="i2">He only said, "It's very dreary:</div> - <div class="i3">He'll never stop!" he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He said, "I'm a-weary—a-weary,</div> - <div class="i3">I would I were in bed!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The speech began before eleven,</div> - <div class="i1">And might go on till eventide;</div> - <div class="i0">He must be in the House at seven,</div> - <div class="i1">Upon a motion to divide.</div> - <div class="i0">The Barristers in white cravats</div> - <div class="i1">Unto each other gave the lie;</div> - <div class="i0">The M.P. sadly shut his eye</div> - <div class="i1">And thought of the Kilkenny cats.</div> - <div class="i2">He only said, "It's very dreary,</div> - <div class="i3">They'll never stop!" he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He said, "I'm a-weary—a-weary,</div> - <div class="i3">And must not go to bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Until the middle of the night,</div> - <div class="i1">He'd heard the Irish Members crow;</div> - <div class="i0">The House broke up in broad daylight,</div> - <div class="i1">Heavily he to bed did go,</div> - <div class="i0">In hopes to sleep; but without change,</div> - <div class="i1">In dreams, he seemed to hear, forlorn,</div> - <div class="i0">The Barrister he'd heard that morn;</div> - <div class="i1">And saw, in slumber, sections strange.</div> - <div class="i2">He sighed, and said, "'Tis very dreary;</div> - <div class="i3">I cannot sleep!" he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He said, "I am a-weary—a-weary,</div> - <div class="i3">Both in and out of bed."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The hot sun beating on the roof,</div> - <div class="i1">The slow clock ticking, and the sound</div> - <div class="i0">Which in opposing lines' behoof</div> - <div class="i1">The counsel made,—did all confound</div> - <div class="i0">His sense: then longed he for the hour</div> - <div class="i1">When their report they came to lay</div> - <div class="i0">Before the Commons; and the day</div> - <div class="i1">On which he'd 'scape S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> R<span class="smcapa">OBERT'S</span> power,</div> - <div class="i2">Then said he, "This is far too dreary:</div> - <div class="i3">I will retire," he said;</div> - <div class="i2">He sighed, "I am so weary—a-weary,</div> - <div class="i3">I'll go to Jail instead."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, 1845.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">IRCUMSTANCE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">WO</span> children in two neighbour villages,</div> - <div class="i0">Playing mad pranks along the healthy leas;</div> - <div class="i0">Two strangers meeting at a festival;</div> - <div class="i0">Two lovers whispering by an orchard wall;</div> - <div class="i0">Two lives bound fast in one with golden ease;</div> - <div class="i0">Two graves, grass green, beside a gray church-tower,</div> - <div class="i0">Wash'd with still rains and daisy-blossomed;</div> - <div class="i0">Two children in one hamlet born and bred;</div> - <div class="i0">So runs the round of life from hour to hour.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">A. T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">IRCUMSTANCE.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>After Tennyson</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">WO</span> children on Twelfth Night, all mirth and laughter,</div> - <div class="i0">Obliged to take two powders the day after.</div> - <div class="i0">Two strangers meeting at a morning call.</div> - <div class="i0">Two lovers waltzing at a country ball.</div> - <div class="i0">Two mouths to feed upon an income small.</div> - <div class="i0">Two "lists to be retained" of various things</div> - <div class="i0">Wash'd out of town to save home's direst curse.</div> - <div class="i0">Two babies quite too much for one young nurse;</div> - <div class="i0">So flies the time of life on rapid wings.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><em>The Man in the Moon</em>, Volume 4, 1848.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ALACE OF</span> A<span class="smcapa">RT</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote><p>(<em>A Parody, which it is requested may not occur to anybody -during the Inauguration of the Exhibition</em>, 1862).</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">BUILT</span> my Cole a lordly pleasure house,</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein to walk like any Swell:</div> - <div class="i0">I said, "O Cole, make merry and carouse,</div> - <div class="i1">Dear Cole, for all is well."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>(<em>Here follows an exquisite description of the said pleasure-house, -also known as the International Exhibition. After -four hundred and ninety-seven verses comes the last</em>).</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But Cole, C.B., replied, "'Tis long, your story,</div> - <div class="i1">And here's a Rummy Start;</div> - <div class="i0">Dilke walks in glory with a Hand that's Gory,</div> - <div class="i1">While I am <em>not</em> a Bart."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">S<span class="smcapa">HIRLEY</span> B<span class="smcapa">ROOKS</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> - -<p>The following parody graphically describes -that singular phase of modern English art, -known as the Æsthetic School, originated by -the Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood, namely, Dante -G. Rossetti, Holman Hunt, J. E. Millais, and -Thomas Woolner. The works of the disciples -of this school have recently found a home in -the Grosvenor Gallery, founded by Sir Coutts -Lindsay:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ALACE OF</span> A<span class="smcapa">RT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>New Version</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">P<span class="smcapa">ART</span> I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">BUILT</span> myself a lordly picture-place</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein to play a Leo's part.</div> - <div class="i0">I said, "Let others cricket, row, or race,</div> - <div class="i4">I will go in for Art!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Full of great rooms and small my Palace stood,</div> - <div class="i1">With porphyry columns faced,</div> - <div class="i0">Hung round with pictures such as I thought good,</div> - <div class="i4">Being a man of taste.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The pictures—for the most part they were such</div> - <div class="i1">As more behold than buy—</div> - <div class="i0">The quaint, the queer, the mystic over-much,</div> - <div class="i4">The dismal, and the dry.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">One seemed all black and grey—a tract of mud,</div> - <div class="i1">One gas-jet glimmering there alone;</div> - <div class="i0">Above, all fog; below, all inky flood;</div> - <div class="i4">For subject—it had none.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">One showed blue chaos flecked with falling gold.</div> - <div class="i1">Like Danaë's tower in dark;</div> - <div class="i0">A painter's splash-board might more meaning hold</div> - <div class="i4">Than this æsthetic lark.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And one, a phantom form with limbs most lank,</div> - <div class="i1">Adumbrated in ink and soot;</div> - <div class="i0">The Genius of Smudge, with spectral shank</div> - <div class="i4">And unsubstantial boot.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nor these alone, but many a canvas bare,</div> - <div class="i1">Fit for each vacuous mood of mind,</div> - <div class="i0">The gray and gravelike, vague and void, were there</div> - <div class="i4">Most dismally designed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Or two wan lovers in a curious fix,</div> - <div class="i1">Wreathed in one scarf by some queer charm,</div> - <div class="i0">Upon the margin of a caverned Styx</div> - <div class="i4">Stood shivering arm-in-arm.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Or by a garden-prop, posed all askew</div> - <div class="i1">'Neath apples bronze, with brazen hair,</div> - <div class="i0">A chalk-limb'd Eve and snake of porcelain blue</div> - <div class="i4">Exchanged a stony stare.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nor these alone, but all such legends fair</div> - <div class="i1">As the vagarious Wagner mind</div> - <div class="i0">Would pick from Mythus' shadowy realm, were there,</div> - <div class="i4">With ample space assigned.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To women weird and wondrous, long of jaw,</div> - <div class="i1">And lank of limb, and greenish as with mould,</div> - <div class="i0">And full-red lips and shocks of fulvous hair,</div> - <div class="i4">And raiments strange of fold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No raven so delighteth in its song,</div> - <div class="i1">Of sad and sullen monotone,</div> - <div class="i0">As I to watch those ladies lean and long,</div> - <div class="i4">And angular of bone.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And to myself I said, "All these are mine.</div> - <div class="i1">Let the dull world take Nature's part,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis one to me; I hold no thing divine</div> - <div class="i4">Save this Brown-Jonesian Art,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Wherein no R<span class="smcapa">OBINSON</span> shall dare to plant</div> - <div class="i1">His Philistinish hoof,</div> - <div class="i0">Who feels no mystic mediæval want,</div> - <div class="i4">But paints in truth's behoof!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O Mediæval Mystery, be it mine</div> - <div class="i1">To clasp thee, faint and fain;</div> - <div class="i0">Sniffing serene at low souls that decline,</div> - <div class="i4">On sense and meanings plain."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then my eyes filled, my talk waxed large and dim</div> - <div class="i1">Of B<span class="smcapa">OTTICELLI'S</span> deathless fame:</div> - <div class="i0">"Quaint immaturity to reach with him,"</div> - <div class="i4">I cried, "is Art's true aim.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"To plunge, self-blinded, in the mystic past,</div> - <div class="i1">That makes the present small:</div> - <div class="i0">If eyes artistic be not backward cast,</div> - <div class="i4">Why have we eyes at all?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Punch</em>, July 7, 1877.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">P<span class="smcapa">ART</span> II.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">ET</span> oft the riddle of Art's real drift</div> - <div class="i1">Flashed through me as I sat and gazed.</div> - <div class="i0">But not the less some season I made shift</div> - <div class="i4">To keep my wits undazed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And so I mused and mooned; for three long weeks</div> - <div class="i1">I stood it: on the fourth I fell.</div> - <div class="i0">All trace of natural colour fled my cheeks,</div> - <div class="i4">And I felt—far from well.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Hollow-cheeked, hectic, rufus-headed dames,</div> - <div class="i1">With opiate eyes, and foreheads all</div> - <div class="i0">As wan as corpses', but with wings like flames,</div> - <div class="i4">Glared on me from each wall.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Those fixed orbs haunted me; I grew to hate</div> - <div class="i1">Those square and skinny jaws, those high-cheek bones.</div> - <div class="i0">Nocturnes in soot and symphonies in slate</div> - <div class="i4">Moved me to sighs and groans.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Queer convolutions of dim drapery</div> - <div class="i1">Inwrapt me like a Nessus-snare.</div> - <div class="i0">I seemed enmeshed in tangles hot and dry</div> - <div class="i4">Of copper-coloured hair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I loathed the pallid Venuses and Eves,</div> - <div class="i1">Nymph-nudity, and Sorceress and Thrall;</div> - <div class="i0">The Wings prismatic, the metallic Leaves—</div> - <div class="i4">I loathed them one and all.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I howled aloud, "I would no more behold</div> - <div class="i1">A witch, an angel, or a saint.</div> - <div class="i0">Aught mediæval-mystic, classic-cold,</div> - <div class="i4">Or <em>cinque-cento</em> quaint.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"It may be that my taste has come to grief,</div> - <div class="i1">But if the spectral, dismal, dry,</div> - <div class="i0"><em>Do</em> constitute 'High Art,' 'tis my belief</div> - <div class="i4">High Art is all my eye."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So when four weeks were wholly finishéd,</div> - <div class="i1">I from my gallery turned away.</div> - <div class="i0">"Give me green leaves and flesh and blood," I said,</div> - <div class="i4">"Fresh air and light of day.</div> - <div class="i0">I pine for Nature, sickened to my heart</div> - <div class="i1">Of the affected, strained, and queer.</div> - <div class="i0">What was to me Ambrosia of Art</div> - <div class="i1">Hath grown as drugged small-beer.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> - <div class="i0">"Yet pull not down my galleries rich and rare:</div> - <div class="i1">When Art abjures the crude and dim,</div> - <div class="i0">I yet may house the High Ideal there.</div> - <div class="i4">Purged from preposterous Whim!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Punch</em>, July 14, 1877.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following poem appeared in <em>The Times</em> -for May 9, 1859, and although not included in -the collected works of the Poet Laureate, it has -been generally ascribed to his pen. In its -warlike promptings, and cheap national bunkum, -it resembles the other so-called patriotic songs -of this author, of whom nobody ever heard that -he took up a rifle for his country, or assisted -the Volunteer movement in any way whatever:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">AR</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HERE</span> is a sound of thunder afar,</div> - <div class="i1">Storm in the South that darkens the day,</div> - <div class="i0">Storm of battle and thunder of war,</div> - <div class="i1">Well, if it do not roll our way.</div> - <div class="i2">Form! form! Riflemen, form!</div> - <div class="i2">Ready, be ready to meet the storm!</div> - <div class="i2">Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Be not deaf to the sound that warns!</div> - <div class="i1">Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!</div> - <div class="i0">Are figs of thistles, or grapes of thorns?</div> - <div class="i1">How should a despot set men free?</div> - <div class="i2">Form! form! Riflemen, form!</div> - <div class="i2">Ready, be ready to meet the storm!</div> - <div class="i2">Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Let your Reforms for a moment go,</div> - <div class="i1">Look to your butts, and take good aims.</div> - <div class="i0">Better a rotten borough or so,</div> - <div class="i1">Than a rotten fleet or a city in flames!</div> - <div class="i2">Form! form! Riflemen form!</div> - <div class="i2">Ready, be ready to meet the storm!</div> - <div class="i2">Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Form, be ready to do or die!</div> - <div class="i1">Form in Freedom's name and the Queen's!</div> - <div class="i0">True, that we have a faithful ally,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></div> - <div class="i1">But only the devil knows what he means.</div> - <div class="i2">Form! form! Riflemen, form!</div> - <div class="i2">Ready, be ready to meet the storm!</div> - <div class="i2">Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">T.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>I<span class="smcapa">NTO THEM</span> G<span class="smcapa">OWN</span>.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Wicked Parody on</em></p> - -<p class="p6">R<span class="smcapa">IFLEMEN</span> F<span class="smcapa">ORM</span>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HERE</span> was a sound of "Town" from afar,</div> - <div class="i0">Town in the High that threaten'd a mill,</div> - <div class="i0">Storm of town, and thunder of gown,</div> - <div class="i0">And town have got with them "Brummagem Bill."</div> - <div class="i2">Gown! Gown! into the Town,</div> - <div class="i2">Ready, be ready to meet the clown,</div> - <div class="i2">Into them; into them; into them, Gown.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Be not afraid of the peelers' staves,</div> - <div class="i0">Be not gulled by a proctor's plea,</div> - <div class="i0">Velvetty arms are for flunkies, my braves,</div> - <div class="i0">Why should a proctor stop our spree?</div> - <div class="i2">Gown! Gown! into the Town,</div> - <div class="i2">Ready, be ready to meet the clown,</div> - <div class="i2">Into them; into them; into them, Gown.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Leave your wines for a moment or so.</div> - <div class="i0">Double your fists for the State and the Church,</div> - <div class="i0">Better the purple claret should flow,</div> - <div class="i0">Than "<em>La Belle Science</em>" be left in the lurch.</div> - <div class="i2">Gown! Gown! into the Town,</div> - <div class="i2">Ready, be ready to meet the clown,</div> - <div class="i2">Into them; into them; into them Gown.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sweep! march ahead, look about, take care,</div> - <div class="i0">Deal black eyes and the bloody nose;</div> - <div class="i0">True that we have an excellent mayor,</div> - <div class="i0">Butt him again, and down he goes.</div> - <div class="i2">Gown! Gown! into the Town,</div> - <div class="i2">Ready, be ready to meet the clown,</div> - <div class="i2">Into them; into them; into them, Gown.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1861.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The Poet Laureate has been subjected to -much ridicule for the change which has of late -years been apparent in the tone of his writings, -and his poem, "Lady Clara Vere de Vere," has -especially been seized on as the vehicle for -many malicious parodies directed against the -fulsome adulation of Royalty, contained in his -later poems.</p> - -<p>It must be remembered that "Lady Clara -Vere de Vere" was written more than fifty -years ago, when Alfred Tennyson was young, -unknown, and unpensioned. Like many of -his early poems, it contains uncomplimentary -allusions to our hereditary aristocracy, into -whose ranks he has only recently procured admission.</p> - -<p>The heartless coquette, Lady Clara, is "the -daughter of a hundred Earls," and in her name -the poet actually selected one of the oldest in -the English nobility on which to vent his -indignation. The Vere (or De Vere) family is -of great antiquity, once holding the ancient -Earldom of Oxford, and as far back as 1387 one -of these Earls of Oxford was created Duke of -Ireland, and Marquis of Dublin. It is certain the -De Veres were noble in the time of William I., -and their pedigree has even been traced to a -much earlier period. "De Vere" still survives -as one of the family names of the Duke of St. -Albans. The first Duke of St. Albans (illegitimate -son of Charles II. and Nell Gwynn, the -orange girl), married Diana de Vere, eldest -daughter and heiress of Aubrey de Vere, the -20th and last Earl of Oxford.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">APTAIN</span> F<span class="smcapa">ALCON OF THE</span> G<span class="smcapa">UARDS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">APTAIN</span> F<span class="smcapa">ALCON</span> of the Guards,</div> - <div class="i1">How nice you thought to do me brown;</div> - <div class="i0">You thought that I'd accept a bill</div> - <div class="i1">For discount, when you went to town.</div> - <div class="i0">At me you smiled, but unbeguiled</div> - <div class="i1">I saw the snare, and I retired:</div> - <div class="i0">The black-leg of a hundred "hells,"</div> - <div class="i1">Your friendship's not to be desired.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Captain Falcon of the Guards,</div> - <div class="i1">I know you thought to get my name;</div> - <div class="i0">Your cunning was no match for mine,</div> - <div class="i1">Too wide-awake to play your game.</div> - <div class="i0">Nor would I write for your delight</div> - <div class="i1">A name the Jews ne'er saw before—</div> - <div class="i0">My simple name across a bill</div> - <div class="i1">Is worth a hundred pounds or more.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Captain Falcon of the Guards,</div> - <div class="i1">Some softer pupil you must find,</div> - <div class="i0">For were you Colonel of your troop,</div> - <div class="i1">I'd shun you still, and all your kind.</div> - <div class="i0">You thought to've seen me jolly green;</div> - <div class="i1">A plump refusal's my reply:</div> - <div class="i0">The army agents in Craig Court</div> - <div class="i1">Are not more up to you than I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Captain Falcon of the Guards,</div> - <div class="i1">You put strange memories in my head;</div> - <div class="i0">Not thrice the bill had been renewed</div> - <div class="i1">When I beheld young Pigeon fled.</div> - <div class="i0">Your crack turn-outs, your drinking bouts,</div> - <div class="i1">A fine acquaintance you may be;</div> - <div class="i0">But there was that across the bill,</div> - <div class="i1">That he had hardly cared to see.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Captain Falcon of the Guards,</div> - <div class="i1">When first he met the gov'nor's view,</div> - <div class="i0">He had the passions of his kind—</div> - <div class="i1">He spake some certain truths of you.</div> - <div class="i0">Indeed, I heard one bitter word</div> - <div class="i1">About a certain game at cards,</div> - <div class="i0">Which, should it e'er get noised abroad,</div> - <div class="i1">Would cook your goose at the Horse Guards.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Captain Falcon of the Guards,</div> - <div class="i1">There stands a bailiff in your hall;</div> - <div class="i0">Tradesmen are knocking at your door:</div> - <div class="i1">Pigeon no longer pays for all.</div> - <div class="i0">You held your course without remorse,</div> - <div class="i1">To make him trust his run of luck,</div> - <div class="i0">And, last, you fairly stripped him clean,</div> - <div class="i1">And sought some other bird to pluck.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trust me, Falcon of the Guards,</div> - <div class="i1">That bill to pay he never meant;</div> - <div class="i0">The grand old Judge who tried the cause</div> - <div class="i1">Smiled at your claim for money lent.</div> - <div class="i0">Howe'er it be, it seems to me</div> - <div class="i1">These promised pounds are not bank-notes;</div> - <div class="i0">Gold sovereigns are more than words,</div> - <div class="i1">And copper pence than paper groats.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I know you, Falcon of the Guards;</div> - <div class="i1">You're linked with many a scoundrel crew,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose nights are spent in playing deep—</div> - <div class="i1">Would that your play was honest too!</div> - <div class="i0">Be rogue, you must; spurned with mistrust,</div> - <div class="i1">Cash is no longer raised with ease;</div> - <div class="i0">Your credit, has it sunk so low,</div> - <div class="i1">You needs must play such pranks as these?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IX.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Captain Falcon of the Guards,</div> - <div class="i1">If tin be needful at your hand,</div> - <div class="i0">Are there no money lenders left,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor any Jews within the land?</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! take the bill-discounters in,</div> - <div class="i1">Or try the legal shark to do;</div> - <div class="i0">Pray write a promissory-note—</div> - <div class="i1">And let the foolish Pigeons go.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Puppet Show</em>, July 8, 1848.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">USSIAN</span> C<span class="smcapa">ZAR</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O<span class="smcapa">H</span>, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar!</div> - <div class="i1">On me you shall not play the fool;</div> - <div class="i0">You thought to make a tool of me</div> - <div class="i1">Before you occupied Stamboul.</div> - <div class="i0">You drew your plan <em>en gentleman</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">But I was not to be deceived;</div> - <div class="i0">A Russian Czar's a Russian Czar—</div> - <div class="i1">You are not one to be believed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar!</div> - <div class="i1">Some softer envoy you must gloze,</div> - <div class="i0">For were you Emperor of the world,</div> - <div class="i1">I would not stoop to tricks like those.</div> - <div class="i0">You set a cunning trap for me,</div> - <div class="i1">But I was cunning in reply;</div> - <div class="i0">The monjeike at your palace gate</div> - <div class="i1">Was not more <em>down</em> to you than I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But trust me, ruthless Russian Czar!</div> - <div class="i1">Though heaven above be brightly blue,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis writ upon your palace walls—</div> - <div class="i1">Dark is the doom prepared for you!</div> - <div class="i0">Howe'er it be, it seems to me</div> - <div class="i1">The truly great are truly good;</div> - <div class="i0">God watches o'er those minarets</div> - <div class="i1">When <em>Christian faith</em> sheds Turkish blood.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I know you, haughty Russian Czar!</div> - <div class="i1">You sigh to leave your frozen towers;</div> - <div class="i0">Short-sighted are your bloated eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">Which strain to feast on Moslem bowers.</div> - <div class="i0">You move by stealth through boundless wealth;</div> - <div class="i1">Your very nobles are o'erawed;</div> - <div class="i0">You do so little good at home,</div> - <div class="i1">You needs must play such pranks abroad.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar!</div> - <div class="i1">If power be heavy on your hands,</div> - <div class="i0">Are there no wretches in your realm,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor any slaves upon your lands?</div> - <div class="i0">Oh teach your monjeiks how to read,</div> - <div class="i1">Emancipate your serfs; but no—</div> - <div class="i0"><em>First pray to have a human heart</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">And let the turban'd Moslem go.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Diogenes</em>, April, 1854.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>(This parody contained nine verses in all.)</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>L<span class="smcapa">ADY</span> C<span class="smcapa">LARA</span> V<span class="smcapa">ERE DE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ERE</span>;</h3> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcapa">OR, RUSTIC ADMIRATION</span>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">L<span class="smcapa">ADY</span> C<span class="smcapa">LARA</span> Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">The country sun has made you brown,</div> - <div class="i1">And now they tell me that you start</div> - <div class="i1">To-morrow afternoon for town;</div> - <div class="i1">Ah! how I sighed when I descried</div> - <div class="i1">Your lovely form beside the stream</div> - <div class="i1">The other day when on my way</div> - <div class="i1">I passed with Farmer Jackson's team!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lady Clara Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">I wish that you would change your name</div> - <div class="i1">For such a humble one as mine:</div> - <div class="i1">But no—you'd think it quite a shame;</div> - <div class="i1">So I must be content to take</div> - <div class="i1">My choice of humbler maiden's charms—</div> - <div class="i1">Must marry someone who can bake,</div> - <div class="i1">And has a sturdy pair of arms.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lady Clara Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">Some "Lord Dundreary" <em>you</em> must find;</div> - <div class="i1">Our rustic bread and cheese and beer</div> - <div class="i1">Would hardly suit your taste refined.</div> - <div class="i1">If I should write you of <em>my</em> love,</div> - <div class="i1">And wait outside for a reply,</div> - <div class="i1">The lion on your old stone gates,</div> - <div class="i1">Would talk of verdure in his eye.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lady Clara Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i1">They say—and really p'rhaps they're right—</div> - <div class="i1">That I had better give you up,</div> - <div class="i1">And marry pretty Sally White;</div> - <div class="i1">You are a swell—<em>she</em> loves me well,</div> - <div class="i1">And then her cooking is so good—</div> - <div class="i1">Jam tarts are more than coronets,</div> - <div class="i1">And elder wine than Norman blood!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">S<span class="smcapa">PHINX</span>, C<span class="smcapa">HRIST'S</span> C<span class="smcapa">OLL</span>., C<span class="smcapa">AMBRIDGE</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1868.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>L<span class="smcapa">ADY</span> C<span class="smcapa">LARA IN THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">OUTH</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"L<span class="smcapa">ADY</span> Clara Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i0">You whom the Laureate makes attacks on,</div> - <div class="i0">If your papa were not a peer,</div> - <div class="i0">If you were not an Anglo-Saxon,</div> - <div class="i0">In short, if 'twere not too absurd,</div> - <div class="i0">To think of <em>you</em> where aught of trade is,</div> - <div class="i0">I'd almost say, upon my word,</div> - <div class="i0">I'm looking at you now in Cadiz."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here follow five other verses descriptive of a -Spanish coquette, concluding:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Lady Clara Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i0">I don't believe <em>femme souvent varie</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">Your sex are all the same, I fear,</div> - <div class="i0">From Timbuctoo to Tipperary."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">M<span class="smcapa">AXWELL</span> R<span class="smcapa">EILLY</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>Kottabos</em>, Dublin 1870.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Another parody of "Lady Clara Vere de -Vere" appeared in <em>Funny Folks</em>, April 10, 1875, -entitled "The Vicar's Surplice." It was addressed -to a Rev. Mr. Mucklestone, who had -declined to pay the charges of his laundress, a -lady rejoicing in the euphonious name of -Gubbins, who resided at Haseley, in Warwickshire. -The subject is somewhat wanting in -dignity for poetical treatment. The following is -the first of six verses:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Reverend Mr. Mucklestone,</div> - <div class="i0">Of me you shall not win renown;</div> - <div class="i0">You thought to have your surplice washed</div> - <div class="i0">For nothing, but it won't go down.</div> - <div class="i0">At me you smiled, but unbeguiled,</div> - <div class="i0">Each time your surplice had a 'rense,'</div> - <div class="i0">I charged, and felt quite justified,</div> - <div class="i0">The modest sum of eighteenpence."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A M<span class="smcapa">AY</span> D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">EMALE</span> E<span class="smcapa">XAMINATION</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">F</span> you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrow in the senate-house at nine I must appear:</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow for all womankind will be a glorious day,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a blue, blue stocking, but none so blue as I;</div> - <div class="i0">There's not a girl amongst them all with me can hope to vie:</div> - <div class="i0">There's none so sharp as little Alice, not by a long, long way,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I lie awake all night, mother, but in the morn I sleep,</div> - <div class="i0">And dream of Virgil, Euclid, Dons, all jumbled in a heap,</div> - <div class="i0">And the letters in the Euclid dance about like lambs at play:</div> - <div class="i0">O, I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came by King's Chapel, whom do you think I saw,</div> - <div class="i0">But Andrew Jones de Mandeville Fitzherbert Aspenshaw!</div> - <div class="i0">He thought of that hard problem I gave him yesterday;</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He thought me such a bore, mother, for he couldn't get it right,</div> - <div class="i0">To see him puzzle o'er it was such a funny sight;</div> - <div class="i0">But not on such a dolt as that I'd throw myself away!</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o the list, they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They say he is fond-hearted, but that can never be:</div> - <div class="i0">He can't get through his "Littlego," then what is he to me?</div> - <div class="i0">There's many a Senior wrangler who'll woo me in the May,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the gate,</div> - <div class="i0">And, till they give the questions out, at the window she must wait;</div> - <div class="i0">And when she's got them, back to you, mother, she'll haste away,</div> - <div class="i0">And I m to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In the papers country parsons have been writing lots of trash:</div> - <div class="i0">They say this scheme for us, mother, is sure to come to smash;</div> - <div class="i0">And agèd Dons all shake their heads, and say it will not pay;</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list, they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">I'd something more to say, mother, but my head is not quite clear;</div> - <div class="i0">For I always have a headache when I put my books away;</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be top o' the list, mother, top o' the list they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> - <div class="i0">"I thought to have gone down before, but still up here I am,</div> - <div class="i0">And still there's hanging o'er me that horrible Exam.</div> - <div class="i0">They said I should be top, mother; but then I'd such bad luck,</div> - <div class="i0">Though I went in for honours—<em>I only got a pluck!</em>"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">X. Y. B., C<span class="smcapa">HRIST'S</span> C<span class="smcapa">OLLEGE</span>, C<span class="smcapa">AMBRIDGE</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1865.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">RS</span>. H<span class="smcapa">ENRY</span> F<span class="smcapa">AWCETT</span> <span class="smcapa">ON THE</span> U<span class="smcapa">NIVERSITY</span> E<span class="smcapa">DUCATION OF</span> W<span class="smcapa">OMEN</span>, A<span class="smcapa">PRIL</span>, 1884.</h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"That large numbers of women—numbers that every year -are rapidly increasing—demand a University training is not a -matter of controversy; it is a simple fact. This training is -already offered to them by University College, London, -and by Cambridge University. The hall-mark of the degree -is offered to them by the University of London, and a -certificate of having passed the Tripos Examinations (almost -as valuable as a degree) is offered to them by the University -of Cambridge. The last Census shows that there were in -Great Britain and Ireland more than 120,000 women -teachers. To many of these a University degree or certificate -is of the highest professional importance. This is a -question to many women, not of sentiment, but of bread. -Those whose generosity has provided scholarships, exhibitions, -and a loan fund for women at Cambridge could prove -how invaluable to many a woman a University training is. -Equipped with her University certificate she can at once -obtain a situation, and command a much more adequate -remuneration for her services. Cambridge has had twelve -years' experience of the presence of women students resident -in Newnham and Girton Colleges. They number now in -the two Colleges about 150. Nearly all the professors' -lectures are open to them; they attend some of the lectures -given in College rooms. When the experiment was first -started at Cambridge there is little doubt that the bulk of -the residents thought the presence of women students -objectionable and alarming. But the fears at first entertained -were at Cambridge so entirely removed by experience that -when, in 1881, the question had to be decided by the Senate -of opening the Tripos examinations to the students of Girton -and Newnham, only thirty members of the Senate were -found to oppose it, while those who supported it were so -numerous that it was impossible to record all the votes -within the time and under the conditions prescribed. It was -estimated that about 500 members of the Senate came up to -Cambridge to vote in favour of the proposal. More than 300 -actually voted.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The two Parodies, from which the following -extracts are taken, appeared in <em>The Porcupine</em>, a -Liverpool comic paper.</p> - -<p>They refer to the Cart Horse procession held -in Liverpool on May-day, and describe, with -tolerable accuracy, the scenes of rough revelry -and noisy merriment which this carnival gives -rise to. These compositions are merely quoted -as curiosities, possessing, as they do, every -attribute which should be studiously avoided in -a parody. They are slangy and vulgar, more -especially in the omitted verses, without being -either humorous or grotesque; they debase -the memory of a really beautiful poem by the -mere trick of repetition of a catch-phrase and -some slight imitation of its metre. The subject -chosen is low and commonplace, which might, -perhaps, have been excused, had the description -of its unpleasant details been enlivened by one -spark of wit, or genuine originality. To the -lovers of an original poem such Parodies must -be offensive; whilst to those who delight in a -really clever burlesque, such things as these can -afford no gratification, and only tend to bring -<em>true Parody</em> into disrepute.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">RAY</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A Car-men on the May-day Carnival, after the -Poet Lorry-ate.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear!</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow'll be the liveliest time of all the glad New Year;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There'll be many a black, black eye, they say, and many a lively shine</div> - <div class="i0">With Margaret and Mary, and Kate and Caroline;</div> - <div class="i0">But none can lick this little Alice, in all the court, they say;</div> - <div class="i0">So I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake</div> - <div class="i0">If you do not call loud and give me, too, a jolly good shake;</div> - <div class="i0">As I must buy some bonnet-flowers and sky-blue ribbons gay,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came up our alley, whom think ye I should see?</div> - <div class="i0">But Robin leaning on Chisenhale Bridge, as screwed as he could be;</div> - <div class="i0">He had been cleaning his harness, mother, and drinking all the day;</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You know my Robin drives a dray, a heavy brewer's cart;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow with his handsome team of horses he will start</div> - <div class="i0">A-roaming up and down the streets, loafing about all day,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To-morrow I'll get out of pawn my bran-new winsey frock,</div> - <div class="i0">For Robin he is sure to wear a reg'lar snow-white smock;</div> - <div class="i0">His dray is cleaned and painted up, and now looks very gay,</div> - <div class="i0">And I must be clean on the Dray, mother, I must be clean on the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The horses' tails all nicely combed, with ribbons will be decked,</div> - <div class="i0">Upon the shining harness not a smirch you can detect,</div> - <div class="i0">The very brutes they seem to feel it is the first of May,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Upon the barrels I'll sit perched, the barrels all so full</div> - <div class="i0">Of smashing stuff they sell for beer, and give you the long pull.</div> - <div class="i0">My Robin rarely touches beer—for 'Rum's my drink,' he'll say—</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Through Lime-street, Lord-street, we'll parade each leading thoroughfare,</div> - <div class="i0">While the spectators rival teams and turn-outs will compare,</div> - <div class="i0">On brewers' and on millers' carts the brazen bands will play,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'll be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'll be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For hours and hours we'll roam about, until the team it tires,</div> - <div class="i0">And Robin will imbibe more rum than he actually requires;</div> - <div class="i0">At many a 'public' he will stop a-moistening of his clay,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'll be the Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'll be the Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear.</div> - <div class="i0">If I don't seem to hear you, give me a smack upon the ear;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow'll be of all the year, the maddest, merriest day,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be the Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">RAY</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Sequel to last May-day's Carol, by Our Own Poet -Lorry-ate, Author of "I'm A-float," &c.</em>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">F</span> you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">For I would see the sun rise upon the carters' cheer;</div> - <div class="i0">It is the last of the turn-outs that I may ever see,</div> - <div class="i0">For Robin he lays me low with a kick—and thinks no more of me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Last May we had a reg'lar spree, we had such a jolly day,</div> - <div class="i0">And Robin, who drove a brewer's cart, he made me Queen o' the Dray;</div> - <div class="i0">And we danced and sung and got mad drunk on Walker's sixpenny hops,</div> - <div class="i0">Till the Charleys come at the row we made, and every one of us cops.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And lugs us off to chokee, mother, and keeps us there all night,</div> - <div class="i0">As drunken and disorderlies—both women and men were tight—</div> - <div class="i0">And Raffles, the beak, next morning, was in a terrible way—</div> - <div class="i0">Ten shillin' we had to pay, mother, ten shillin' and costs to pay.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And in default of payment,—our cash we had spent in ale,—</div> - <div class="i0">That Raffles he gave us all a week within sweet Walton gaol,</div> - <div class="i0">Where soon we learnt to pick oakum (the skin's off my fingers still),</div> - <div class="i0">And Robin did "Sich a gettin' upstairs" upon the revolving mill.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The end of it was, he axed me, as I'd been Queen of his Dray,</div> - <div class="i0">If I would marry a scavenger as never did work by day,</div> - <div class="i0">And though his wages was but low—a matter o' twenty-five bob—</div> - <div class="i0">Before the month o' May was out we settled the blessed job.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At first my Robin was very kind and gentle, so to speak,</div> - <div class="i0">He never got drunk and kicked me—not more than twice a week,</div> - <div class="i0">And of his weekly wages, no matter what else he did,</div> - <div class="i0">He never would spend on pay-nights more than eighteen bob or a quid.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And after that—it's a month ago—my Robin got much worse,</div> - <div class="i0">'Twould make your hair just stand on end to hear him swear and curse,</div> - <div class="i0">He never gets drunk as he used to do—that's once or twice in a week—</div> - <div class="i0">He's never properly sober, on me all his rage he'll wreak.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When he comes home of a morning, it's rarely he goes to bed,</div> - <div class="i0">He takes to drinking about all day, and hammerin' me instead,</div> - <div class="i0">And well I know my husband's hand, it's weight I often feel,</div> - <div class="i0">I wouldn't be lyin' so low, mother, if not for my husband's heel.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The brewers' carts and the scavengers' to-morrow will be gay,</div> - <div class="i0">The horses all with ribands decked will walk in grand array,</div> - <div class="i0">The Corporation carters and their wives will have a spread,</div> - <div class="i0">And get their annual dinner 'neath the great Haymarket shed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Good-night, dear mother, call me before the day is born;</div> - <div class="i0">I'd like to see the carters a-marching in the morn;</div> - <div class="i0">The pubs, are closing early, very early, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">So, if you've got any coppers left, just go for a quart of beer!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AY</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>New Version, adapted to existing Climatic Conditions</em>).</p> - -<blockquote><p>[C<span class="smcapa">ONSIDERING</span> apology superfluous, Mr. Punch offers -none, as the Poet Laureate will doubtless approve the -modification of his beautiful lines, rendered needful by recent -meteorological conditions.]</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow'll be the tryingest time of all the Spring, this year—</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the Spring, this year, mother, the dreariest, dreadfullest day;</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There'll be many a red, red nose, no doubt, but none so red as mine;</div> - <div class="i0">For the wind is still in the East, mother, and makes one peak and pine:</div> - <div class="i0">And we're going to have six weeks of it, or so the prophets say say—</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sleep so sound all night, mother, I am sure I shall never wake.</div> - <div class="i0">So you'd better call me loud, mother, and perhaps you'll have to shake:</div> - <div class="i0">I shall want some coffee hot and strong, before I'm called away,</div> - <div class="i0">To shiver as Queen o' the May, mother, to shiver as Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I was coming home to-night, whom think you I should see</div> - <div class="i0">But D<span class="smcapa">OCTOR</span> S<span class="smcapa">QUILLS</span>! And he saw that my nose was as red as red could be;</div> - <div class="i0">And he said the weather was cruel sharp, that I'd better stay away,—</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm chosen Queen o' the May, mother, so I must be Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> - <div class="i0">The honeysuckle round the porch is white with sleety showers,</div> - <div class="i0">And, though they call it the month of May, the hawthorn has no flowers;</div> - <div class="i0">And the ice in patches may yet be found in swamps and hollows gray,—</div> - <div class="i0">Ain't it nice for the Queen o' the May, mother, so nice for the Queen o' the May?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The East wind blows and blows, mother, on my nose I follow suit,</div> - <div class="i0">For my influenza's so very bad, and I've got a cough to boot;</div> - <div class="i0">Perhaps it will rain and sleet, mother, the whole of the livelong day,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet, I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother; I must be Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I've not the slightest doubt, mother, I shall come home very ill,</div> - <div class="i0">And then there'll be bed for a week or more, and a long, long, doctor's bill;</div> - <div class="i0">And with prices up and wages down however will father pay?</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother—oh bother the Queen o' the May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So please wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">That I may look out some winter wraps, fit for the spring this year.</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow of this bitter "snap," I'm sure 'twill be the bitterest day,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Punch</em>, May 12, 1877.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Truth had a long parody describing the visit in -1877 of Dom Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, whose -early rising, and insatiable appetite for sight-seeing -were the topics of conversation. Two -verses are sufficient to indicate the style:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span>-S<span class="smcapa">EEING</span> E<span class="smcapa">MPEROR</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">F</span> you're waking, call me early, "Boots," not later, please, than four,</div> - <div class="i0">And if you're passing earlier, pray rat-tat at my door;</div> - <div class="i0">But stay I have so much to do, that p'rhaps 'twill better be,</div> - <div class="i0">Not to depend on you at all, but call myself at three.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I cannot, though an Emperor, stay quietly at home,</div> - <div class="i0">Some impulse irresistibly makes me for ever roam;</div> - <div class="i0">Each week it holds me tighter still beneath its mystic thrall,</div> - <div class="i0">Till soon I am afraid I shall not eat or sleep at all.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Truth</em>, June 21, 1877.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another parody of the same original, called -<em>The Business of Pleasure</em>, appeared in <em>Truth</em>, -May 9, 1878.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ENGE</span> M<span class="smcapa">YSTERY</span> T<span class="smcapa">RIAL</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> must come and dress me early, very early, Simmons, mind!</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrow'll be the summing-up, and I must not be behind;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all this jolly trial, I'm told, to-morrow'll be <em>the</em> day,</div> - <div class="i0">So be sure you call me early, Simmons; now attend to what I say!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The judge means hanging, so they say, and when the sentence's pass'd,</div> - <div class="i0">There's sure to be an awful scene, more curious than the last;</div> - <div class="i0">P'raps the men will have hysterics—<em>that</em> would be fun to see!</div> - <div class="i0">And Alice Rhodes may have a fit. Oh! how jolly it will be!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So you must wake and call me early, Simmons, call me early, Simmons, mind!</div> - <div class="i0">Or I'll give you a month's warning if you are at all behind!</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrow'll be, of all the trial, the awfullest jolliest day,</div> - <div class="i0">For I think all four will be hanged, Simmons; all four will be hanged, they say!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Truth</em>, October 4, 1877.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> W<span class="smcapa">ELSHER'S</span> L<span class="smcapa">AMENT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>On the Suppression of Suburban Race Meetings</em>).</p> - -<p class="center">May, 1879.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">F</span> yer passin', knock me up, Bill; knock me up, old cock, d'yer yere;</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrer's Kingsbury meetin', is the last there'll be, I fear;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all suburbin races, the werry last they say,</div> - <div class="i0">For that Anderson in Parlyment, 'as contrived to get 'is way.</div> - <div class="i0">It's ter'ble rough on us, Bill; on us, an' all our pals,</div> - <div class="i0">As 'asn't got no tickets for that bloomin' Tattersall's;</div> - <div class="i0">For 'ow without these meetin's our livin's were to get,</div> - <div class="i0">Is a rayther ticklish problim, as I 'avent worked out yet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Truth</em>, February 21, 1878.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ODERN</span> M<span class="smcapa">AY</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>The Result of the First Fortnight</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">D<span class="smcapa">ON'T</span> wake and call me early, pray don't call me, mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow may be the coldest day of all this cold New Year;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all this wintry year, mother, the wildest stormiest day,</div> - <div class="i0">And we have had fires in May, mother, we have had fires in May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sleep so sound at night, mother, that I don't want to wake,</div> - <div class="i0">With the horrid thermometer standing at what seems a sad mistake;</div> - <div class="i0">But none so wise as those who read the weather forecasts, they say;</div> - <div class="i0">Shall we have more fires in May, mother? must we have more fires in May?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A storm is coming across, mother, the <em>New York Herald</em> has said,</div> - <div class="i0">And, if you please, I'd rather lie as long as I like in bed;</div> - <div class="i0">So bother the knots and garlands, mother, and all the foolish play,</div> - <div class="i0">If we're to have fires in May, mother, why—we must have fires in May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, May 28, 1881.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> - -<p>The following parody appeared originally in a -clever little Cambridge University Magazine, -entitled <em>Light Green</em>, which has long been out of -print. <em>Light Green</em> contained many excellent -parodies, notable amongst them being:—<em>The -May Exam.</em>, after Tennyson; <em>The Song of the -Shirk</em>, after Hood; <em>The Heathen Pass-ee</em>, after -Bret Harte; and <em>The Vulture and the Husbandman</em>, -after Lewis Carroll. These, with several -other amusing pieces of poetry, have been -reprinted in a small pamphlet, which can be -obtained from W. Metcalfe and Son, Trinity-street, -Cambridge.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AY</span> E<span class="smcapa">XAM</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>By Alfred Pennysong</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">"Semper floreat</div> - <div class="i6">Poeta Laureate."—H<span class="smcapa">ORACE.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> must wake and call me early, call me early, Filcher dear,</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow 'ill be a happy time for all the Freshman's year;</div> - <div class="i0">For all the Freshman's year, Filcher, the most delightful day,</div> - <div class="i0">For I shall be in for my May, Filcher, I shall be in for my May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a hot, hot man, they say, but none so hot as me;</div> - <div class="i0">There's Middlethwaite and Muggins, there's Kane and Kersetjee;</div> - <div class="i0">But none so good as little Jones in all the lot, they say,</div> - <div class="i0">So I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I read so hard at night, Filcher, that I shall never rise,</div> - <div class="i0">If you do not take a wettish sponge and dab it in my eyes:</div> - <div class="i0">For I must prove the G.C.M., and substitute for <em>a</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came through the College Backs, whom think ye should I see</div> - <div class="i0">But the Junior Dean upon the Bridge proceeding out to tea?</div> - <div class="i0">He thought of that Ægrotat, Filcher, I pleaded yesterday,—</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There are men that come and go, Filcher, who care not for a class,</div> - <div class="i0">And their faces seem to brighten if they get a common pass;</div> - <div class="i0">They never do a stitch of work the whole of the live-long day,—</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All the College Hall, my Filcher, will be fresh and clean and still,</div> - <div class="i0">And the tables will be dotted o'er with paper, ink, and quill;</div> - <div class="i0">And some will do their papers quick, and run away to play,—</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be first in the May, Filcher, I'm to be first in the May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So you must wake and call me early, call me early, Filcher dear,</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow 'ill be a happy time for all the Freshman's year;</div> - <div class="i0">For all the Freshman's year, Filcher, the most delightful day,</div> - <div class="i0">For I shall be in for my May, Filcher, I shall be in for my May!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>N<span class="smcapa">EW</span>-Y<span class="smcapa">EAR'S</span> E<span class="smcapa">VE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If you're waking call me early, call me early, Filcher dear,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'll keep a morning Chapel upon my last New-year.</div> - <div class="i0">My last New-year before I take my Bachelor's Degree,</div> - <div class="i0">Then you may sell my crockery-ware, and think no more of me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To-night I bade good-bye to Smith: he went and left behind</div> - <div class="i0">His good old rooms, those dear old rooms, where oft I sweetly dined;</div> - <div class="i0">There's a new year coming up, Filcher, but I shall never see</div> - <div class="i0">The Freshman's solid breakfast, or the Freshman's heavy tea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Last May we went to Newmarket: we had a festive day,</div> - <div class="i0">With a decentish cold luncheon in a tidy one-horse-shay.</div> - <div class="i0">With our lardy-dardy garments we were really "on the spot,"</div> - <div class="i0">And Charley Vain came out so grand in a tall white chimney-pot.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's not a man about the place but doleful Questionists;</div> - <div class="i0">I only wish to live until the reading of the Lists.</div> - <div class="i0">I wish the hard Examiners would melt and place me high;</div> - <div class="i0">I long to be a Wrangler, but I'm sure I don't know why.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Upon this battered table, and within these rooms of mine,</div> - <div class="i0">In the early, early morning there'll be many a festive shine;</div> - <div class="i0">And the Dean will come and comment on "this most unseemly noise,"</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, "Gentlemen, remember, pray, you're now no longer boys."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When the men come up again Filcher, and the Term is at its height,</div> - <div class="i0">You'll never see me more in these long gay rooms at night;</div> - <div class="i0">When the old dry wines are circling and the claret-cup flows cool,</div> - <div class="i0">And the loo is fast and furious with a fiver in the pool.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You'll pack my things up, Filcher, with Mrs. Tester's aid,</div> - <div class="i0">You may keep the wine I leave behind, the tea, and marmalade.</div> - <div class="i0">I shall not forget you, Filcher, I shall tip you when I pass,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'll give you something handsome if I get a second-class.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Good-night, good-night, when I have passed my tripos with success,</div> - <div class="i0">And you see me driving off to catch the one o'clock "express;"</div> - <div class="i0">Don't let Mrs. Tester hang about beside the porter's lodge,</div> - <div class="i0">I ain't a fool, you know, and I can penetrate that dodge.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">She'll find my books and papers lying all about the floor,</div> - <div class="i0">Let her take 'em, they are hers, I shall never use 'em more;</div> - <div class="i0">But tell her, to console her, if she's mourning for my loss.</div> - <div class="i0">That she's quite the dirtiest bedmaker, I ever came across.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Good-night: you need not call me till the bell for service rings,</div> - <div class="i0">Through practice I am pretty quick at putting on my things;</div> - <div class="i0">But I would keep a Chapel upon my last New Year,</div> - <div class="i0">So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, Filcher dear.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">ONCLUSION.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I thought to pass some time ago, but hang it, here I am,</div> - <div class="i0">Having "muckered" in a certain Mathematical Exam.</div> - <div class="i0">I have been "excused the General," and my reverent Tutor thinks</div> - <div class="i0">I must take up Natural Science, which is commonly called "Stinks."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> - <div class="i0">O sweet is academic life within these ancient walls,</div> - <div class="i0">And sweet are Cambridge pleasures—boating, billiards, breakfasts, balls;</div> - <div class="i0">But sweeter far about this time than all these things to me</div> - <div class="i0">Would be the acquisition of my Bachelor's Degree.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">REMIER'S</span> L<span class="smcapa">AMENT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'll be in the House quite early, you come later, Herbie dear,</div> - <div class="i0">This night will be the hardest in the Cabinet's career;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all our mad career, Herbie, the hardest, horridest night,</div> - <div class="i0">For the Vote of Censure's on us, and the Opposition fight.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O, sweet's the docile Liberal who never wants to rise.</div> - <div class="i0">And sweeter still the Radical who shuns the Speaker's eyes,</div> - <div class="i0">And sweet are dumb majorities, and men who silent stay,</div> - <div class="i0">For the hardest things to listen to are what our friends all say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's Parnell's lot, my Herbie, that wretched Irish crew;</div> - <div class="i0">Don't go and say I said so, this is confidence for you:</div> - <div class="i0">I've done my best to catch them, and gain their solid vote;</div> - <div class="i0">But Trevelyan's such a blunderer, he's always at their throat.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So I will go down early, you come down after, Herbie dear;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow may be the saddest day of this our sad fifth year.</div> - <div class="i0">I've felt some twinges sometimes of conscience and of gout;</div> - <div class="i0">But the painfullest of all would be to know that we're turned out.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>The Evening News</em>, February 18, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> N<span class="smcapa">EW</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORD</span> M<span class="smcapa">AYOR</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A long way after Tennyson</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> must mind and call me early, call me early, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>, d'ye hear.</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow'll be the nobbiest day of all this blessed year:</div> - <div class="i0">Of all this wonderful year, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>, the scrumptiousest I declare,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>! I'm to be made Lord Mayor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many an Aldermanic Swell, but none so great as me;</div> - <div class="i0">I scorn your Common Councillors, such men I will not see;</div> - <div class="i0">But none so grand as Alderman E<span class="smcapa">LLIS</span> the Liverymen all swear,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>! I'm to be made Lord Mayor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sleep well after a heavy meal, and I shall never wake,</div> - <div class="i0">If you don't knock at my door, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>, when day begins to break;</div> - <div class="i0">And I must dress in my Sunday clothes, and titivate up my hair,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>, I'm to be made Lord Mayor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came up to the Mansion House, whom think ye I should see,</div> - <div class="i0">But F<span class="smcapa">IGGINS</span> and other Aldermen as glum as they well could be,</div> - <div class="i0">They thought of the coming pageantry, and how I should swagger there,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>, I'm to be made Lord Mayor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then mind and call me early, call me early, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>, don't fear</div> - <div class="i0">To dig me in my illustrious ribs, and shout in my lordly ear;</div> - <div class="i0">And to-morrow will see me roll along, while all the people stare,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span>! I'm to be made Lord Mayor!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Punch</em>, November 12, 1881.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORD</span> M<span class="smcapa">AYOR TO THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">ADY</span> M<span class="smcapa">AYORESS</span>.</h3> - -<p>["If this bill becomes law, it will be our proud privilege -to continue the existence of the Lord Mayor for six months, -until it comes into action on the 1st of May, 1885."—<em>Sir -W. V. Harcourt's Speech.</em>]</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If you've read Sir Vernon's speech upon the City, daughter dear,</div> - <div class="i0">You will see that London's downfall from its great estate is near;</div> - <div class="i0">But one comfort you will gather—not November ends our sway,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I have said that I will fight the bill, in clause, and line, and word.</div> - <div class="i0">I may not be the conqueror, but my protests shall be heard—</div> - <div class="i0">Though that clause my office to extend for six months more may stay,</div> - <div class="i0">That I may be Mayor till May, daughter, I may be Mayor till May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They do not stop our banqueting, so that clause I don't condemn—</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, the Ministers won't abrogate the feeds we give to them!</div> - <div class="i0">And that is about the only good they do not take away—</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Can Harcourt think to bribe me by this one continuance clause?</div> - <div class="i0">He'll see that I shall show the bill to be little else but flaws!</div> - <div class="i0">This "sop" as he may fancy it, won't affect what I've to say,</div> - <div class="i0">Tho' I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Now tell me your opinion on the matter, daughter dear,</div> - <div class="i0">For you will be Lady Mayoress as long as we are here;</div> - <div class="i0">And if it passes, recollect <em>we</em> pass next "Lord Mayor's Day,"</div> - <div class="i0">And I shall be Mayor till May, daughter, I shall be Mayor till May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Funny Folks</em>, May 3, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The Prize Editor of <em>The Weekly Dispatch</em> -offered two guineas for the best original parody -of Tennyson's "May Queen," to consist of not -more than five verses, having some reference to -current politics. The prize was awarded to Mr. -F. W. Binstead, 76, Ockendon road, Canonbury, -N., for the following poem, which was published -in <em>The Weekly Dispatch</em>, May 4, 1884:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AST</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORD</span> M<span class="smcapa">AYOR TO HIS</span> F<span class="smcapa">AVOURITE</span> B<span class="smcapa">EADLE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake and call me early, call me early, Bumble, dear,</div> - <div class="i0">I mean to fight with all my might each minute of this year;</div> - <div class="i0">For a play is in rehearsal now—a tragic, terrible play—</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'll fight from morn till night, Bumble—my soul must never quake—</div> - <div class="i0">For calipash and calipee and Corporation's sake;</div> - <div class="i0">And I must don the lion's skin, although I can but bray,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When I was in the Commons, whom think ye I should see,</div> - <div class="i0">But Harcourt smiling on his seat, just close to William G.?</div> - <div class="i0">He thought not of the feed, Bumble, we gave him t'other day—</div> - <div class="i0">But I will be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I will be Griffin at Bay!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They want to wreck, with sinful hand, our great time-honoured powers,</div> - <div class="i0">And take away the wealth and might which have so long been ours;</div> - <div class="i0">But I will roar and bluster, in my old accustomed way,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Go, summons all my aldermen, and bid them take their fill,</div> - <div class="i0">From terror free let them with me all gaily feast and swill;</div> - <div class="i0">Reform need have no fears for them, so bid them all be gay,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Four other parodies, which had been sent in -for competition, were also printed:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> E<span class="smcapa">VE OF THE</span> G<span class="smcapa">ENERAL</span> E<span class="smcapa">LECTION</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We must wake and get up early, get up early, brother Grimes,</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrow'll be the greatest day of all the modern times;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the modern times, brother, the day so long delayed,</div> - <div class="i0">When we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a low, low lot, they said, but none so low as we,</div> - <div class="i0">So sunk in ignorance and vice, in want and penury;</div> - <div class="i0">But none so stupid as poor Hodge in all the land, they said;</div> - <div class="i0">But we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So we'll rise and poll us early, poll us early, brother Grimes,</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrow'll be the important day of all the glad new times;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the glad new times, brother, the day so long delayed,</div> - <div class="i0">When we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">J<span class="smcapa">AMES</span> F<span class="smcapa">RASER</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">ORY</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORD TO</span> D<span class="smcapa">ITTO</span> D<span class="smcapa">ITTO</span> <span class="smcapa">ON THE</span> E<span class="smcapa">VE</span> <span class="smcapa">OF THE</span> -I<span class="smcapa">NTRODUCTION OF THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">RANCHISE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ILL</span> -<span class="smcapa">INTO THE</span> U<span class="smcapa">PPER</span> H<span class="smcapa">OUSE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">If you're going, look in early, look in early, brother peer,</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow we'll have the merriest fling we've had for many a year;</div> - <div class="i0">We've had for many a year, brother—Aha! hip, hip, hooray!</div> - <div class="i0">For "the measure" comes up, they say, brother, "the measure" comes up, they say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The bishops will go with us, brother, and landlords fat and lean,</div> - <div class="i0">And they'll vote ditto, brother—the weak-kneed Whigs, I mean;</div> - <div class="i0">With quiddities and flow'ry quirks we'll whittle the bill away.</div> - <div class="i0">We'll whittle the bill away, brother, we'll whittle the bill away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And all the law-lords, brother, will use their subtle skill</div> - <div class="i0">By verbiage and amendment sly to mutilate the bill;</div> - <div class="i0">Our lordly mashers, too, brother, will meet in grand array,</div> - <div class="i0">For 'twill be as good as the play, brother, 'twill be as good as the play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought to kick it out, brother, but we've found it wouldn't pay;</div> - <div class="i0">J. B. would never stand it, so we'll better tact display;</div> - <div class="i0">And we'll hocuss him, you see brother, and mar its clauses dear:</div> - <div class="i0">So, we'll be early, places taking, we'll be early, brother peer.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">G<span class="smcapa">ERMANICUS</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">N THE</span> E<span class="smcapa">VE OF A</span> D<span class="smcapa">EBATE ON THE</span> F<span class="smcapa">RANCHISE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ILL</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake up! there'll be such a hurly-burly, Staffy, dear;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow'll be the merriest night the House has had this year;</div> - <div class="i0">Of all the nights this year, Staffy, the night to be marked with chalk,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a clack-clack cry, they say, but none so shrill as mine;</div> - <div class="i0">There's Peel and Gorst and Drummond, there's Balfour superfine;</div> - <div class="i0">But none so rare as little Randy in all the House for talk,</div> - <div class="i0">So I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As I came through the lobby whom think ye should I see</div> - <div class="i0">But Gladdy poring o'er the bill to set the yokels free.</div> - <div class="i0">He caught my eye and shook, Staffy—I eyed him like a hawk!</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The hinds may reap and sow, Staffy, but ere that measure pass,</div> - <div class="i0">The cows will get the franchise as they munch the meadow grass;</div> - <div class="i0">There will not be a vote for Hodge, if only the bill we baulk,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All the Tories, Staffy, will obstruct it with a will,</div> - <div class="i0">And the swift foot and the slow foot will mash and maul the bill;</div> - <div class="i0">And the G.O.M. will fret and fume like fizz when you draw the cork,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">G<span class="smcapa">OSSAMER</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">REMIER TO</span> M<span class="smcapa">RS</span>. G<span class="smcapa">LADSTONE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You must wake me in the morning, rouse me early, wifey, dear;</div> - <div class="i0">To-morrow'll be a ticklish time at Westminster, I hear;</div> - <div class="i0">At Westminster, the Franchise Bill will glide upon its way,</div> - <div class="i0">And I shall have something to say, deary, I shall have something to say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a black-legged Tory who would frustrate our design—</div> - <div class="i0">There's Northcote and there's Goschen, who was once a friend of mine;</div> - <div class="i0">But none, I think, will stand their ground if I can get fair play,</div> - <div class="i0">For they know it is true what I say, deary, they know it is true what I say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I sleep so light of late, wifey, that bedtime comes in vain,</div> - <div class="i0">They've bored me so with Gordon that I've Egypt on the brain:</div> - <div class="i0">Yet I'll regain these wasted hours—this loss of time won't pay—</div> - <div class="i0">And show that I mean what I say, deary, show that I mean what I say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - <div class="i15">J<span class="smcapa">ESSIE</span> H. W<span class="smcapa">HEELER</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>The Weekly Dispatch</em>, May 4, 1884.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ROMISE OF</span> M<span class="smcapa">AY</span>!</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>An Old Song re-set, and specially dedicated, for purposes of -recitation, to Mrs. Bernard-Beere, Manageress -of the Globe Theatre</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> must call rehearsals early, call them early, K<span class="smcapa">ELLY</span> dear!</div> - <div class="i0">November'll be the merriest month of our dramatic year;</div> - <div class="i0">November I have fixed it for the Laureate's new play,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Promise of May, K<span class="smcapa">ELLY</span>, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's many a chosen priestess in the wild æsthetic line.</div> - <div class="i0">There's E<span class="smcapa">LLEN</span>! and there's M<span class="smcapa">ARION</span>! whose fingers intertwine!</div> - <div class="i0">But all the Grosvenor Gallery think none like me, they say;</div> - <div class="i0">So I'm to be Promise of May, K<span class="smcapa">ELLY</span>, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'm thinking of <em>the</em> night, you know, both sleeping and awake,</div> - <div class="i0">And I hear them calling loudly till their voices seem to break;</div> - <div class="i0">But I must fashion lots of gowns in Liberty silks so gay,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Promise of May, my Lad, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I went down into Surrey—don't laugh, it is no joke—</div> - <div class="i0">And found the great Bard dramatist wrapt in a cloak—of smoke!</div> - <div class="i0">He handed me his manuscript, and read it yesterday;</div> - <div class="i0">So I'm to be Promise of Maytime, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He said I was ideal, because I kept it up,</div> - <div class="i0">This mixture of his <em>Dora</em>, and his <em>Camma</em> in the <em>Cup</em>.</div> - <div class="i0">They call me a <em>replica</em>, but I care not what they say.</div> - <div class="i0">Now I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They say he's pining still for fame; but that can never be.</div> - <div class="i0">He likes to roar his lyrics, but what is that to me?</div> - <div class="i0">I'll fill the Globe with worshippers, in the old Lyceum way—</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Promise of May, my Friend, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">My sisters of the <em>cultus</em> shall attend me clad in green;</div> - <div class="i0">All the poets and the painters must hail me as their Queen!</div> - <div class="i0">The great dramatic critics of course will have their say,</div> - <div class="i0">Now I'm to be Promise of Maytime, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Pit with wild excitement will tremble, never fear,</div> - <div class="i0">And the merry gods above them will greet me with a cheer!</div> - <div class="i0">There will not be a ribald line in all the Laureate's play,</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All the Stalls will sit in silence, or with cynicism chill</div> - <div class="i0">Will pick the Bard to pieces, and work their own sweet will;</div> - <div class="i0">And H<span class="smcapa">AMILTON</span> C<span class="smcapa">LARKE</span> in the orchestra he'll merrily pose and play—</div> - <div class="i0">For I'm to be Promise of May, my Lad, I'm to be Promise of May!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So call rehearsals early, call them early, there's a dear!</div> - <div class="i0">Bid gipsy-tinted O<span class="smcapa">RMSBY</span> and V<span class="smcapa">EZIN</span> to appear.</div> - <div class="i0">November'll see what "gushers" call the "sweetest, daintiest play,"</div> - <div class="i0">And I'm to be Promise of May, K<span class="smcapa">ELLY</span>, I'm to be <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Promise May'">Promise of May</ins>!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, November 4, 1882.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>As this parody refers to a nearly-forgotten -play, the allusions in it may best be explained -by the reproduction of the Play-bill, which has -now become a literary curiosity.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The drama was a complete and melancholy -failure; even George Augustus Sala, most lenient -and genial of critics, could not but condemn it, -as being as unactable a play as Shelley's "Cenci," -or Swinburne's "Bothwell," or Southey's "Wat -Tyler," whilst it possessed none of the literary -merits of either of those compositions. He -added, "It is finally and most wretchedly -unfortunate that an illustrious English poet has -not by his side some really candid and judicious -friend, with influence enough, and courage -enough, to persuade him to desist from subjecting -this disastrous production to the ordeal -of representation before a miscellaneous audience."</p> - -<p>Bad as <em>The Promise of May</em> was, it contained -one leading idea, which, from the very opposition -it gave rise to, enabled the management to -keep the play on the boards much longer than -could have been anticipated. The plot had been -foreshadowed in one of Tennyson's earliest -poems, <em>The Sisters:</em>—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"W<span class="smcapa">E</span> were two daughters of one race:</div> - <div class="i0">She was the fairest in the face:</div> - <div class="i1">The wind is blowing in turret and tree.</div> - <div class="i0">They were together, and she fell:</div> - <div class="i0">Therefore revenge became me well.</div> - <div class="i1">O the Earl was fair to see!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> - - - -<h2>THE GLOBE THEATRE.</h2> - -<div class="advert"> -<p>Licensed by the Lord Chamberlain to Mr. F. MAITLAND, 26½, Newcastle Street.</p> - -<p><em>Under the Management of</em></p> - -<p>MRS. BERNARD-BEERE.</p> - -<p><em>On SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11th, 1882</em>,<br /> -<span class="small70">WILL BE PRODUCED</span><br /> -A NEW AND ORIGINAL RUSTIC DRAMA, IN PROSE,<br /> -<span class="small70">BY</span><br /> -ALFRED TENNYSON (P<span class="smcapa">OET</span> L<span class="smcapa">AUREATE</span>),<br /> -<span class="small80">ENTITLED, THE</span><br /> -<span class="p3">PROMISE OF MAY</span>,<br /> -IN THREE ACTS.</p> - -<hr class="r50" /> - -<p>T<span class="smcapa">HE WHOLE PRODUCED UNDER THe</span> M<span class="smcapa">ANAGEMENT OF</span></p> - -<p>MR. CHARLES KELLY.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center"><em>At</em> 8.45<span class="mleft20"> </span>BY</p> - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="THE PROMISE OF MAY"> -<thead> -<tr> - <th> </th> - <th><span class="u">THE PROMISE OF MAY.</span> </th> - <th><span class="u">ALFRED TENNYSON</span>.</th> -</tr> -</thead> -<tbody> -<tr> - <td class="tdl top">The town lay still in the<br /> low sun-light,</td> - <td class="tdl">Farmer Dobson</td> - <td class="tdl">Mr. C<span class="smcapa">HARLES</span> K<span class="smcapa">ELLY</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl top">But a red fire woke<br /> in the heart of<br /> the town,</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Edgar</td> - <td class="tdl">Mr. H<span class="smcapa">ERMANN</span> V<span class="smcapa">EZIN</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Farmer Steer, <em>Dora's Father</em></td> - <td class="tdl">Mr. H. C<span class="smcapa">AMERON</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Mr. Wilson, <em>a Schoolmaster</em> </td> - <td class="tdl">Mr. E. T. M<span class="smcapa">ARCH</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl top">The hen cluct late by<br /> the white farm gate,</td> - <td class="tdl">James }</td> - <td class="tdl">{Mr. H. H<span class="smcapa">ALLEY</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl top">And a fox from the<br /> glen ran away<br /> with the hen,</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Dan Smith }</td> - <td class="tdl">{Mr. C. M<span class="smcapa">EDWIN</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Higgins } <em>Farm Labourers</em></td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">{Mr. A. P<span class="smcapa">HILLIPS</span>.</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">The maid to her dairy came<br /> in from the cow,</td> - <td class="tdl">Jackson }</td> - <td class="tdl">{Mr. G. S<span class="smcapa">TEPHENS</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl top">And a cat to the cream, and a<br /> rat to the cheese,</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"></td> - <td class="tdl">Allen }</td> - <td class="tdl">{Mr. H. E. R<span class="smcapa">USSELL</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl top">The stock-dove coo'd at<br /> the fall of night,</td> - <td class="tdl">Dora Steer</td> - <td class="tdl">Mrs. B<span class="smcapa">ERNARD</span>-B<span class="smcapa">EERE</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl top">And the stock-dove <br /> coo'd till a<br /> kite dropped down,</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Eva, <em>her Sister</em></td> - <td class="tdl">M<span class="smcapa">ISS</span> E<span class="smcapa">MMELINE</span> O<span class="smcapa">RMSBY</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdc"><em>By permission of Mr. Wilson Barrett.</em></td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl top">The blossom had open'd on<br /> every bough.</td> - <td class="tdl">Sally} <em>Farm Servants</em>.</td> - <td class="tdl">{Miss A<span class="smcapa">LEXES</span> L<span class="smcapa">EIGHTON</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl top">And a salt wind burnt the<br /> blossoming trees.</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Milly}</td> - <td class="tdl">{Miss M<span class="smcapa">AGGIE</span> H<span class="smcapa">UNT</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><em>The whole produced under the direction of</em></td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">O joy for the promise of May,<br /> of May.</td> - <td class="tdl">Mr. C<span class="smcapa">HARLES</span> K<span class="smcapa">ELLY</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl">O grief for the<br /> promise of May,<br /> of May,</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="4">A<span class="smcapa">CT</span> I.—S<span class="smcapa">TEER'S</span> F<span class="smcapa">ARM</span>.</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">O joy for the promise of May.</td> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><em>Six years are supposed to have elapsed between Acts</em> 1 & 2.</td> - <td class="tdl">O grief for the promise of<br /> May. T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON.</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="4">A<span class="smcapa">CT</span> II.—T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIDGE BY THE</span> H<span class="smcapa">AY</span> F<span class="smcapa">IELD</span>.</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="4">A<span class="smcapa">CT</span> III.—T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> U<span class="smcapa">PPER</span> H<span class="smcapa">ALL IN</span> S<span class="smcapa">TEER'S</span> F<span class="smcapa">ARM</span>.</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="4"><hr class="r5" /></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><em>Music composed by</em></td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Mr. H<span class="smcapa">AMILTON</span> C<span class="smcapa">LARKE</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><em>Dances arranged by</em></td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Mr. J. D'A<span class="smcapa">UBAN</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><em>Rustic Dresses by</em></td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl">Mrs. N<span class="smcapa">ETTLESHIP</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><em>Scenery by</em></td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Messrs. H<span class="smcapa">ANN</span>, S<span class="smcapa">PONG</span>, & P<span class="smcapa">ERKINS</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><em>Acting-Manager</em>—Mr. C<span class="smcapa">HARLES</span> J. A<span class="smcapa">BUD</span>.</td> - <td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> -</tbody> -</table></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_324.jpg" width="397" height="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> - - -<p>Assuming that Mrs. Bernard-Beere, as <em>Dora -Steer</em>, speaks these lines, we have the counterpart -of the villainously seductive Earl in <em>Philip -Edgar</em>, a thankless part, which was admirably -played by Mr. Hermann Vezin. This <em>Edgar</em>, -having ruined and abandoned one sister, -returns, after an interval of five or six years, to -the scene of his former conquest, and lays siege -to the heart of the other sister; confidentially -informing the audience that he intends to marry -<em>Dora</em> as an atonement for the injuries he has -inflicted on the luckless <em>Eva</em>. The shouts of -derisive laughter with which this announcement -(the culmination of absurdity), was met on the -first night, led Mr. Hermann Vezin to somewhat -modify his language on the following evenings, -but he was still compelled to inflict on the -audience the most tedious and extraordinary -soliloquies touching Communism, Free-love, -Agnosticism, and other wholly undramatic -topics. For Tennyson had, with characteristic -bigotry, chosen to assume that a Freethinker -must necessarily be a villain; and with a view -of generally condemning opinions distasteful to -him, had burdened poor Edgar with the task of -proclaiming himself at once as a seducer, a -hypocrite, a liar, a coward, a Freethinker, an -Agnostic, a Secularist, a Democrat—and all this -in speeches of a contradictory and decidedly -tiresome description.</p> - -<p>On the third representation of the drama the -Marquis of Queensberry, who occupied a seat in -the stalls, rose, and loudly protested against the -Laureate's misrepresentation of the principles -of freethought as a gross caricature, especially -in regard to Edgar's sentiments about the law of -marriage.</p> - -<p>He subsequently addressed a letter to <em>The -Globe</em>, containing the following explanation:—</p> - - -<h3>"THE PROMISE OF MAY."</h3> - -<p class="center">TO THE EDITOR OF THE GLOBE.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"S<span class="smcapa">IR</span>,—In reply to Mr. Hermann Vezin's letter, which -appears in your issue of to-day, may I be allowed to make a -few remarks? He says that on the first night 'some one -started a hiss, which soon grew into a storm,' &c., and he -continues to say, 'it is to be presumed that this opposition -came from professing orthodox Christian people. On the -third night the Marquis of Queensberry, a professed Freethinker, -rose in his stall, and loudly protested against what -he considered a caricature of his own sect.' Not a caricature -against my own sect, Sir, which is Secularism, but against -an infamous libel to the whole body of people who have been -designated by that name of Freethinkers. Mr. Hermann -Vezin says, here we have a curious spectacle of the most -outspoken opposition from both extremes, and that neither -party has quite caught Mr. Tennyson's meaning. Whether -two separate parties spoke (or only one, as I expect is the -case) it would be as well if Mr. Tennyson himself would -explain what his meaning is; for, coming so soon after the -poem, which he issued to the public a short time ago, -entitled 'Despair,' we Freethinkers can have but one opinion -as to what his meaning is, and that is to caricature and to -misrepresent what the outcome of freethought has led to in -its secession from orthodoxy. My object the other night in -causing an 'interruption' at the theatre was not only to -make a public protest against the supposed sentiments of a -Freethinker (on marriage), but to attract public attention to -that protest, and I consider that the end justified the means, -considering the difficulty that we have in getting a hearing -from those who oppose us, and not only who oppose us, but -who misrepresent us. Freethinkers may not be satisfied -with the present marriage law—as I explained the other day -in my letter to the <em>Daily News</em>—but that is no reason that -they should not respect marriage, and we cannot be attacked -on a more tender point, from the very delicacy there is to -speak on the subject.—Yours faithfully,</p> - -<p class="center">"Q<span class="smcapa">UEENSBERRY.</span></p> - -<p class="center">"45, Half Moon-street, Piccadilly, November 20, 1882."</p></blockquote> - -<p>This led to a discussion in the newspapers on -Tennyson's muddled metaphysics and absurd -theories; public curiosity was thus aroused, and -the management was enabled to run the play -much longer than could have been expected -from its original reception.</p> - -<p><em>Punch</em> (November 25, 1882) had a long and -elaborate criticism of the play, giving a humorous -analysis of the plot. The opening and closing -paragraphs are much to the point, especially as -they include two amusing parodies.</p> - - -<h3>N<span class="smcapa">EITHER</span> R<span class="smcapa">HYME NOR</span> R<span class="smcapa">EASON</span>;</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Or, Promise of May, and Performance of November -at the Globe.</em></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> sources of literary ambition are proverbially obscure, -and it is scarcely worth while to enquire why the Laureate, -who has spent a lifetime in filling the world with his verse, -should, at the eleventh hour, have conceived the idea of -emptying the Globe with his prose. If there could be any -doubt that he had not only done so, but also had set himself -to the business with a right good will, the hearty and sympathetic -jeers of the not unkindly audience that attended the first -performance of his <em>Promise</em> the other evening must have -settled the matter. Indeed, some of the Poet's own lines—or -something like them—seemed to occur to everybody. -Even his staunchest admirers could be heard in the lobbies -between the acts respectfully quoting to each other—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'I hold it truth that he who flings</div> - <div class="i1">His harp aside, to try the bones,</div> - <div class="i1">Will somehow find that paving stones,</div> - <div class="i0">Are levelled at his neatest things.'</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>By the way, the management might even now take a hint -from a rival establishment, and try this on a poster.</p> - -<p>"The plot of the piece is simplicity itself, and if the -talented author had merely contented himself with working -out his pretty little idyl in some ordinary and unpretentious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -fashion, there could hardly have been any doubt about the -result. But he went further than this, and in some inspired -moment appears to have conceived the brilliant and happy -idea of spicing his whole story, from beginning to end, with -the wildest and most boisterous fun.</p> - -<p>"Not that his purpose was distinctly apparent on the -first go off of his piece in a Lincolnshire farm; for the serious -utterances of several gloomy rustics for a few moments filled -the house almost with awe.</p> - -<p>"However, with so much genuine pantomime go for the -finish in reserve, very possibly the author knew what he was -about. And he was not at fault. He must have realised -what depths of quiet fun would be stirred when placing -Mrs. B<span class="smcapa">ERNARD</span>-B<span class="smcapa">EERE</span> over the dead body of <em>Eva</em>, he made -her, in so many words, courteously request <em>Farmer Dobson</em> -and the comic agnostic <em>Edgar</em> to consider themselves quite -at home, and not mind the corpse, as she had a few general -remarks to make that wouldn't take her much more than -five-and-twenty minutes.</p> - -<p>"But there,—the matter really defies sober criticism, and, -taking his own charming lines from the bill, the story is soon -told:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'The Town booked well for the opening night,</div> - <div class="i1">The Pit was full, an evident pull,</div> - <div class="i1">The Grand Old Man had a box of his own,</div> - <div class="i0">And V<span class="smcapa">EZIN</span> behind said it looked all right,</div> - <div class="i1">And the critics in front took an excellent tone.</div> - <div class="i0">There's a chance for <em>The Promise of May, of May</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">There's a chance for <em>The Promise of May</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'But a sly wink woke in the eye of the Town,</div> - <div class="i1">And a frivolous fit got hold of the Pit,</div> - <div class="i1">And K<span class="smcapa">ELLY</span> a pitchfork, and V<span class="smcapa">EZIN</span> a roar,</div> - <div class="i0">And the stock chaff followed the Curtain down;</div> - <div class="i1">And the Critics they did—as they've done before—</div> - <div class="i0">They slaughtered <em>The Promise of May</em>, <em>of May</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">They slaughtered <em>The Promise of May!</em>'</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"The Laureate cannot write a playable play. <em>The Falcon</em> -at the St. James's was saved by the acting; <em>Queen Mary</em>, -nothing could save; <em>The Cup</em> was the success of Miss E<span class="smcapa">LLEN</span> -T<span class="smcapa">ERRY</span>, Mr. I<span class="smcapa">RVING</span>, the scene-painter, and the stage -management.</p> - -<p>"But <em>The Promise of May</em> must be an Utter Frost, with, -we are sorry to think, no Promise to Pay in it; and nothing, -except the spasmodic curiosity of the Public to see what the -Laureate can't do, can set this unfortunate Humpty-Dumpty -up again."</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AUREATE'S</span> L<span class="smcapa">ATEST</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The "town" ran off to the Globe one night,</div> - <div class="i0">For a play was played then from the Laureate's pen;</div> - <div class="i0">But they soon said, "How dare he?" and kicked up a "row,"</div> - <div class="i0">And pooh-poohed the drama—and serve it right,</div> - <div class="i0">For that it deserved it I think you'll allow.</div> - <div class="i1">Yea, they jeered at "The Promise of May,"—of May—</div> - <div class="i1">Annoyed at "The Promise of May."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But stay; we'd better, maybe, leave that song,</div> - <div class="i0">Yea, leave its "hen," its "fox," its "cat," and "cheese"—</div> - <div class="i0">For where is he who can burlesque burlesque?</div> - <div class="i0">And this strange playwright, mystic, wonderful,</div> - <div class="i0">Loved stage plays with a love that was his doom!</div> - <div class="i0">For lo! this "Promise" played by Bernardbeere</div> - <div class="i0">Has gained, at least, this very doubtful fame—</div> - <div class="i0">Hereafter, through all ages—"'Twas no good!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">The critics, o'er its threadbare plot,</div> - <div class="i2">Ere long grew "crusty"—one and all.</div> - <div class="i1">Said they, "'Twill fail; such awful rot</div> - <div class="i2">Will on the public quickly pall.</div> - <div class="i1">The leading character is strange,</div> - <div class="i2">The rest are all a prosy batch,</div> - <div class="i2">The audience they'll never catch—</div> - <div class="i1">The programme they must shortly change.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"A. T.," they said, "'tis weak and dreary.</div> - <div class="i2">A lot of bosh," they said.</div> - <div class="i1">"It makes the audience aweary;</div> - <div class="i2">Soon it will be dead!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Besides the forced and feeble plot,</div> - <div class="i2">Full soon did men discover</div> - <div class="i1">The scientific "snob" was not</div> - <div class="i2">A pleasant sort of lover.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Of speech he had an awful flow—</div> - <div class="i2">Which Tennyson thought clever—</div> - <div class="i1">And he soliloquised as though</div> - <div class="i2">He meant to jaw for ever!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And then unto the critics and reviewers,</div> - <div class="i0">Irresponsible critics and reviewers,</div> - <div class="i0">Thus, Alfred (not in metre of Catullus—</div> - <div class="i0">But more in "In Memoriam" sort of measure):</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"The critics prattle on amain—</div> - <div class="i2">That envious and grumbling race</div> - <div class="i2">Declare my play is commonplace,</div> - <div class="i1">And rather full of chaff than grain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"I hold it true—although they bawl,</div> - <div class="i2">And I may heavy find the cost—</div> - <div class="i2">'Tis better to produce a 'frost'</div> - <div class="i1">Than ne'er to write a play at all."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And then unto the Queen (s'berry) he hymned</div> - <div class="i0">This little lay; for he, the noble "Q.,"</div> - <div class="i0">Cried out at Edgar's "Maxims of the Mud."</div> - <div class="i0">Then Alfred and fair Bernardbeere were glad,</div> - <div class="i0">And rested well content that all was well.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"You jeered, O, "Q," and you were bold</div> - <div class="i2">To treat my great prose-play with mirth;</div> - <div class="i2">But your advertisement was worth</div> - <div class="i1">No end of praise and lots of gold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"For <em>now</em> the town will haste to see</div> - <div class="i2">My 'Edgar' that made <em>you</em> so ill;</div> - <div class="i2">And so they'll keep it in the bill</div> - <div class="i1">Since that advertisement from thee."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Shall it not be scorn for me to harp upon this mouldy thing?</div> - <div class="i0">For surely in a week or two it will have taken wing.</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Weakness to be wroth with weakness"—that this play is weak, 'tis plain.</div> - <div class="i0">I have seen much better dramas founded by a shallower brain.</div> - <div class="i0">From the programme of the Globe, then, sweep this foolish thing away.</div> - <div class="i0">Better fifty Meritt-mixtures than this sickly, stupid play!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">C<span class="smcapa">ARADOS</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Referee</em>, November 19, 1882.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>A D<span class="smcapa">REAM OF</span> G<span class="smcapa">REAT</span> P<span class="smcapa">LAYERS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I read one night, while lying on the down,</div> - <div class="i0">In L. T. Annual<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> of the current year—</div> - <div class="i0">Tho' unpretending volume, bound in brown—</div> - <div class="i0">Great deeds recorded were.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At length, methought that I had wandered far</div> - <div class="i0">Through the long path that runs beside the line,</div> - <div class="i0">And found myself before the entrance-door,</div> - <div class="i0">And knew I was in time.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I knew the stands, I knew the nets, I knew</div> - <div class="i0">The smooth, green level of the well-rolled lawn,</div> - <div class="i0">And thought, "Here many an athlete anxious grew,</div> - <div class="i0">Dreading the fateful dawn."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A voice from out the ticket-office came—</div> - <div class="i0">From overworked collector in his prime—</div> - <div class="i0">"Pass quickly through, the seats are all thine own</div> - <div class="i0">Until the end of time."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Close by a player, leaning on the rail,</div> - <div class="i0">Clasping a racket, Tate-made, in his hand—</div> - <div class="i0">A champion among men, who made me hail,</div> - <div class="i0">And led me to the stand.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His cigarette from out his mouth he drew:</div> - <div class="i0">Blew out white clouds, then said, with courteous smile—</div> - <div class="i0">"Hast come to see great players? Good! Then you</div> - <div class="i0">Had best stay here awhile.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I am the champion! ask thou not my name;</div> - <div class="i0">Not to know me argues thyself unknown.</div> - <div class="i0">Many played here, and fell; whene'er I came</div> - <div class="i0">All men were overthrown."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"No marvel," I made answer; "In fair field</div> - <div class="i0">Myself before such skill had doubtless quail'd,</div> - <div class="i0">As all men must." Then, turning, I appealed</div> - <div class="i0">To one who merely wailed—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As he with forced perpetual smile averse,</div> - <div class="i0">To his full height his stately figure draws—</div> - <div class="i0">"My youth," he said, "is blighted with a curse—</div> - <div class="i0">This stripling is the cause.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"For seven years The Cup I strove to win,</div> - <div class="i0">But ever, when it seemed within my grip,</div> - <div class="i0">He, rising o'er all others, entered in,</div> - <div class="i0">And dashed it from my lip."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His words of grief fell idly on my ear,</div> - <div class="i0">As thunderdrops fall on a sleeping sea.</div> - <div class="i0">Sudden I heard a voice that cried—"Come here,</div> - <div class="i0">That you may look on me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I am ex-champion, now three years displaced,</div> - <div class="i0">And since that time I find it very slow;</div> - <div class="i0">I have no <em>men</em> to conquer in this waste,</div> - <div class="i0">I war with fairer foe."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He paused in gloom, and towards the others faced,</div> - <div class="i0">To whom the Smiler—"Oh! you tamely died;</div> - <div class="i0">You should have stood well to the back, and placed</div> - <div class="i0">The ball along the side."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Alas! alas!" a low voice, full of care,</div> - <div class="i0">Murmured beside me—"Champion I might be,</div> - <div class="i0">But for this injured member which I bear</div> - <div class="i0">I had gained victory."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I gazed upon him, then became aware</div> - <div class="i0">Of some one coming hastily in wrath,</div> - <div class="i0">Reminding his twin-brother—"We're the pair</div> - <div class="i0">Chosen to play the North.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"<em>Do</em> hurry up, our foes await us there;</div> - <div class="i0">The stem, black-bearded form, the referee,</div> - <div class="i0">Ejaculating, as he tears his hair,</div> - <div class="i0">'Where can the players be?'"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then seized his arm, and drew him from the spot.</div> - <div class="i0">I, feeling tired and thirsty, strolled away;</div> - <div class="i0">The day becoming most extremely hot,</div> - <div class="i0">I cared to see no play.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Pastime</em>, February 13, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORD OF</span> B<span class="smcapa">URLEIGH</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Listen to the doleful story</div> - <div class="i1">Of a juvenile M.P.,</div> - <div class="i0">He was but a voting Tory,</div> - <div class="i1">And a farmer's daughter she.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Spake he in his wisest manner</div> - <div class="i1">(Whereat people often smiled),</div> - <div class="i0">"You must give up your piano,</div> - <div class="i1">You are but a farmer's child.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Straight forget each foreign tongue, dear,</div> - <div class="i1">And, to further my desire,</div> - <div class="i0">All the songs you ever sang, dear—</div> - <div class="i1">For a tenant is your sire."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So she sells her dear piano;</div> - <div class="i1">With the cash her bargain yields</div> - <div class="i0">Buys she Gibbs's best guano,</div> - <div class="i1">Which she scatters o'er the fields.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then forgets each well-bred accent,</div> - <div class="i1">Foreign, native, just the same,</div> - <div class="i0">All her modern books are back sent</div> - <div class="i1">To the stores from whence they came.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then he marries her and makes her</div> - <div class="i1">Thus a lady of renown,</div> - <div class="i0">And with condescension takes her</div> - <div class="i1">To his house by Stamford town.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From the gate his crest depended,</div> - <div class="i1">Which the owner's breeding shows;</div> - <div class="i0">Hand with fingers wide extended</div> - <div class="i1">Stretching from a lordly nose.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Waves the flippant owner's pennant</div> - <div class="i1">O'er the keep's embattled brow,</div> - <div class="i0">Though her sire was but a tenant</div> - <div class="i1">She is Lady Burleigh now.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Long she lived in stately manner</div> - <div class="i1">'Mid the highborn and the grand,</div> - <div class="i0">But she pined for her piano</div> - <div class="i1">Scattered on the teeming land.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then she grew and ever thinner,</div> - <div class="i1">And she murmured, "O that he,</div> - <div class="i0">At that agricultural dinner,</div> - <div class="i1">Had not ever counselled me."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So she drooped and drooped before him,</div> - <div class="i1">And at last, with anguish bent,</div> - <div class="i0">To his freedom did restore him,</div> - <div class="i1">Following her dear instrument.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He survived in state and bounty,</div> - <div class="i1">Lord of Burleigh, young and free,</div> - <div class="i0">Not a lord in all the county</div> - <div class="i1">Was so great a fool as he.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">C<span class="smcapa">ECIL</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>The Kettering Observer</em>, March 21, 1884.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<p>When Lord Burghley, M.P. (son of the -Marquis of Exeter), took the English farmers -to task for allowing their daughters to play -the piano, and to learn a few of the polite little -accomplishments of the day, his remarks were -generally resented as impertinent, and his name -lent itself irresistibly to the ridicule contained -in the preceding parody of Tennyson's "Lord -of Burleigh." Inasmuch as Tennyson's poem -was founded on incidents connected with the -courtship and marriage of the first Marquis of -Exeter, to Sarah Hoggins, the daughter of a -small yeoman farmer at Bolas Magna, in Shropshire. -The marriage took place in October, -1791, and the lady died in January, 1797, leaving -two sons, of whom the elder became the second -Marquis of Exeter, and was the grandfather -of the Lord Burghley above referred to.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> F<span class="smcapa">AITHLESS</span> P<span class="smcapa">EELER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">S<span class="smcapa">KULKING</span> slily down the area,</div> - <div class="i1">He to her his mind doth tell—</div> - <div class="i0">"I feel somewhat dry, my Mary,</div> - <div class="i1">And some beer would be as well."</div> - <div class="i0">She replies, by way of feeler,</div> - <div class="i1">"La, who'd thought of seeing thee?"</div> - <div class="i0">He is but a smart young peeler,</div> - <div class="i1">And a maid-of all-work she.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He to lips that do not falter,</div> - <div class="i1">Raises up the half-pint mug;</div> - <div class="i0">Vows his love will never alter—</div> - <div class="i1">Eyeing hard the empty jug.</div> - <div class="i0">"I can pick that bone of pheasant,</div> - <div class="i1">Little care I for a knife—</div> - <div class="i0">Love, it makes our duty pleasant,</div> - <div class="i1">Luncheon love I dear as life."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He across the kitchen going,</div> - <div class="i1">Sees two lordly bottles stand;</div> - <div class="i0">"India pale" within them glowing,</div> - <div class="i1">And he grasps one in each hand.</div> - <div class="i0">From deep thought himself he rouses,</div> - <div class="i1">Says to her that loves him well,</div> - <div class="i0">"I could pop these in my trousers'</div> - <div class="i1">Pocket, and no one might tell."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">This he doth by her attended,</div> - <div class="i1">And they lovingly converse</div> - <div class="i0">Of the toothsome things that tended</div> - <div class="i1">To bind so close his heart to hers.</div> - <div class="i0">Leg of pork, with sauce of apple,</div> - <div class="i1">Fowl and bacon and broad beans;</div> - <div class="i0">cold roast beef, with which he'd grapple,</div> - <div class="i1">Sooner than with warmed-up greens.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">What she gives him makes her dearer,</div> - <div class="i1">Such she hopes to be the case;</div> - <div class="i0">Hopes his beat will still be near her,</div> - <div class="i1">Should she ever change her place.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! but he doth love her truly;</div> - <div class="i1">He shall have a cup of tea—</div> - <div class="i0">She will bring it to him duly,</div> - <div class="i1">Some time after half-past three.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And her heart rejoices greatly,</div> - <div class="i1">Whenever peeler she discerns,</div> - <div class="i0">Past the small boys pacing stately,</div> - <div class="i1">While they mimic him by turns.</div> - <div class="i0">Thinks he looks far more majestic</div> - <div class="i1">Than he ever looked before—</div> - <div class="i0">Fears he winked at the domestic</div> - <div class="i1">Higher up at Number Four;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Hears him speak in gentle murmur,</div> - <div class="i1">Knows he's answering her call,</div> - <div class="i0">While he treads with footstep firmer,</div> - <div class="i1">Leading past the garden wall.</div> - <div class="i0">All at once the colour flushes</div> - <div class="i1">His false face from brow to chin;</div> - <div class="i0">As it were with shame he blushes,</div> - <div class="i1">While she vows she's "been took in."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then unable to conceal her</div> - <div class="i1">Love, she murmurs, "Oh, that he</div> - <div class="i0">Were once more that faithful Peeler,</div> - <div class="i1">Which did win my heart from me."</div> - <div class="i0">He but begged she'd no more bore him,</div> - <div class="i1">When she falls flat at his side;</div> - <div class="i0">Gathered soon a crowd before him,</div> - <div class="i1">Whilst to lift her up he tried;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And one came to raise her bonnet,</div> - <div class="i1">And he looked at him and said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Bring a chair, and place her on it,</div> - <div class="i1">For I fear she's hurt her head."</div> - <div class="i0">Home they took her, and next morning,</div> - <div class="i1">By her mistress she's addressed,</div> - <div class="i0">"Mary, you have a month's warning—</div> - <div class="i1">This time, mind. I'm not in jest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>The Puppet Show</em>, July 29, 1848.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORD OF</span> B<span class="smcapa">URLEIGH</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Slightly altered from the Poet Laureate</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To the Bill he whispers gaily,</div> - <div class="i1">"Land Bill, I the truth must tell—</div> - <div class="i0">You're a nuisance; but believe me</div> - <div class="i1">That I really love you well!"</div> - <div class="i0">She replies, that Irish Maiden,</div> - <div class="i1">"No one I respect like thee."</div> - <div class="i0">He is Lord of ancient Hatfield,</div> - <div class="i1">And a simple Land Bill she.</div> - <div class="i0">So most kindly he receives her</div> - <div class="i1">Merely with <em>two</em> hours' reproof,</div> - <div class="i0">Leads her to the Lords' Committee,</div> - <div class="i1">And she leaves her G<span class="smcapa">LADSTONE'S</span> roof.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I will strive to guard and guide you,</div> - <div class="i1">And your beauty not impair;</div> - <div class="i0">Only add a few amendments,</div> - <div class="i1">Prune a section here and there.</div> - <div class="i0">Let us try these little clauses</div> - <div class="i1">Which the wealthy Lords suggest;</div> - <div class="i0">No connection with F<span class="smcapa">ITZMAURICE</span>,</div> - <div class="i1">Or with H<span class="smcapa">ENEAGE</span> and the rest!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> - <div class="i0">All he tells her makes her queerer,</div> - <div class="i1">Evermore she seems to yearn</div> - <div class="i0">For her Commons and her G<span class="smcapa">LADSTONE</span>,</div> - <div class="i1">And the moment of return.</div> - <div class="i0">And while now she wonders wildly</div> - <div class="i1">Why she feels inclined to sink,</div> - <div class="i0">Proudly turns the Lord of B<span class="smcapa">URLEIGH</span>,</div> - <div class="i1">"I have <em>drawn your teeth</em>, I think!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then her countenance all over</div> - <div class="i1">Pale and (emerald) green appears,</div> - <div class="i0">As he kicks her down the staircase,</div> - <div class="i1">'Mid their Lordships' wicked jeers.</div> - <div class="i0">But her G<span class="smcapa">LADSTONE</span> looked upon her,</div> - <div class="i1">Lying lifeless, worn, and spent,</div> - <div class="i0">And he said, "Your dress is ragged—</div> - <div class="i1">These must be arrears of <em>rent</em>."</div> - <div class="i0">Deeply mourns the Lord of B<span class="smcapa">URLEIGH</span>,</div> - <div class="i1">No one more distressed than he,</div> - <div class="i0">When the P<span class="smcapa">REMIER</span> moved the Commons</div> - <div class="i1">With the Peers to disagree.</div> - <div class="i0">And they gathered softly round her,</div> - <div class="i1">Did the Commons, and they said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Bring the dress we sent her forth in—</div> - <div class="i1"><em>That</em> will raise her from the dead!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, August 13, 1881.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Figaro</em> of January 22, 1873, contained a -long parody (eleven verses), entitled, "The Lord -of Burleigh," but it is not now of sufficient -interest to warrant its reproduction.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A B<span class="smcapa">URLINGTON</span> H<span class="smcapa">OUSE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ALLAD.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>With Apologies to Our Lordly Laureate</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In her ear he whispers sadly,</div> - <div class="i1">"I've a grief upon my soul,</div> - <div class="i0">And I want you very badly</div> - <div class="i1">Just to take a little stroll."</div> - <div class="i0">She replies, in accents fainter,</div> - <div class="i1">"Anywhere, my love, with thee."</div> - <div class="i0">He is but a budding painter,</div> - <div class="i1">And his fair <em>fiancée</em> she.</div> - <div class="i0">To her chamber straight she scurries,</div> - <div class="i1">Lest delay should bring reproof,</div> - <div class="i0">Pops her bonnet on and hurries</div> - <div class="i1">With him from her father's roof.</div> - <div class="i0">So she goes, by him attended,</div> - <div class="i1">Hears him absently converse,</div> - <div class="i0">As with spirits all unmended</div> - <div class="i1">He controls his steps to hers.</div> - <div class="i0">Faring thus, she wonders greatly,</div> - <div class="i1">Till a gateway she discerns</div> - <div class="i0">With armorial bearings stately,</div> - <div class="i1">And beneath the gate she turns.</div> - <div class="i0">Sees a building most majestic</div> - <div class="i1">In a simple maiden's eye;</div> - <div class="i0">Pays he then a smug domestic,</div> - <div class="i1">And the turnstile clicks them by.</div> - <div class="i0">All around are paint and glitter</div> - <div class="i1">High and low upon the wall,</div> - <div class="i0">While he treads with feelings bitter,</div> - <div class="i1">Leading on from hall to hall.</div> - <div class="i0">And as now she freely utters</div> - <div class="i1">Rapture it were vain to hide,</div> - <div class="i0">Fiercely turns he round and mutters,</div> - <div class="i1">"<em>There's my picture—it is 'skyed!</em>'"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Funny Folks</em>, May, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AY</span> Q<span class="smcapa">UEEN OF</span> 1879,<br /> - -<span class="smcapa">AS SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ELL</span>, you waked and call'd me early on the first, my mother dear,</div> - <div class="i0">As though't had been the jolliest time of all the glad new year,</div> - <div class="i0">For as you were aware, mother, in spite the wretched day,</div> - <div class="i0">I had to be Queen o' the May, mother, I had to be Queen o' the May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You did your best for me, mother, I must say that of you;</div> - <div class="i0">You had my waterproof prepared, and my goloshes too;</div> - <div class="i0">You lent me your own muff, mother, my chilblains were so sore,</div> - <div class="i0">And made dear Robin bring the cover'd cart close to our door.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And yet the May-day games, mother, were not a great success;</div> - <div class="i0">And I, for I was Queen, alack!—got in the greatest mess;</div> - <div class="i0">The mud was over all our boots—it hail'd, too, as it chanced,</div> - <div class="i0">And I fell in a puddle, mother, while I with Robin danced.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">(<em>Five verses omitted</em>).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"So, on the whole, I cannot say I'm glad—no more can you,</div> - <div class="i0">You call'd me early on the first, though then I begg'd you to;</div> - <div class="i0">In truth, could I have known, it would have been so cold and wet,</div> - <div class="i0">I'd have told the lads and lasses, mother, another Queen to get.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"But, there, it is too late to fret—the thing is over now,</div> - <div class="i0">But not again will your poor child thus play the fool, I vow;</div> - <div class="i0">Another year, if spring is late, I'll stay in bed all day,</div> - <div class="i0">Rather than get up early, mother, and be the Queen o' the May."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Truth</em>, May 22, 1879.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Y<span class="smcapa">OU</span> ask me why, tho' ill at ease,</div> - <div class="i1">Within this region I subsist,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose spirits falter in the mist,</div> - <div class="i0">And languish for the purple seas?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> N<span class="smcapa">EW</span> U<span class="smcapa">MBRELLA</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You ask me why, though ill at ease,</div> - <div class="i1">And chilled with rain, my gentle Stella,</div> - <div class="i0">I stand beneath the dripping trees,</div> - <div class="i0">With shivering hands and shaking knees,</div> - <div class="i1">But do not use my umbrella.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The reason I can soon explain,</div> - <div class="i1">Succinctly, simply, and precisely:</div> - <div class="i0">If once I used it in the rain,</div> - <div class="i0">I could not fold it up again,</div> - <div class="i1">Or roll it up so smooth and nicely.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No, precious slender staff! no hand of mine,</div> - <div class="i1">With ruthless hate or foolish gaming,</div> - <div class="i0">Shall mar thy symmetry divine—</div> - <div class="i0">The curved diagonal of line</div> - <div class="i1">That circles round thy wooden stamen.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> - <div class="i0">The skill that wrapped thee up so tight</div> - <div class="i1">And fastened up the ring and button</div> - <div class="i0">Is rarer far than second-sight,</div> - <div class="i0">The art of catching fish at night,</div> - <div class="i1">Or carving any joint of mutton.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">(Two verses omitted).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>The Cambridge Meteor</em>, June 13, 1882.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"O<span class="smcapa">F</span> old sat Freedom on the heights,</div> - <div class="i1">The Thunders breaking at her feet:</div> - <div class="i0">Above her shook the starry lights:</div> - <div class="i1">She heard the torrents meet."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>P<span class="smcapa">AM</span> U<span class="smcapa">PON THE</span> H<span class="smcapa">EIGHTS</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">[Lord Palmerston was appointed Lord Warden of the -Cinque Ports, March, 1861].</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> old, stood Pam upon the Heights,</div> - <div class="i1">The Commons roaring at his feet,</div> - <div class="i0">And Beadledom, with antique rites,</div> - <div class="i1">Did him the homage meet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>Punch</em>, in his place did much rejoice,</div> - <div class="i1">Not for the title then assigned,</div> - <div class="i0">But glad to hear the brave old boy's</div> - <div class="i1">Name shouted on the wind.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Admiring much his British pluck,</div> - <div class="i1">His ready tongue, his cheery jest,</div> - <div class="i0">His never downing on his luck,</div> - <div class="i1">But hoping for the best.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His hate of humbug, saving such</div> - <div class="i1">As should to humbugs still be flung,</div> - <div class="i0">His speeches, void of artist touch,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet suiting English tongue.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His deeper hatred for the gang,</div> - <div class="i1">Who, prating of some Right Divine,</div> - <div class="i0">Doom freedom's friends to starve, or hang,</div> - <div class="i1">Or in foul dungeons pine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Cheer for the Constable! Our foes</div> - <div class="i1">Find him the nightmare of their dreams;</div> - <div class="i0">We, the wise Englishman, who knows</div> - <div class="i1">The Falsehood of Extremes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, 1861.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>L<span class="smcapa">ORD</span> B<span class="smcapa">EACONSFIELD AS</span> T<span class="smcapa">ITHONUS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> Whigs decay, the Whigs decay, and fall,</div> - <div class="i0">The Obstructives drag our Senate through the mire;</div> - <div class="i0">Parliaments cumber earth, then pass away;</div> - <div class="i0">E'en this one, after many a session, dies;</div> - <div class="i0">While I, secure of immortality,</div> - <div class="i0">Take my calm saunter, propped by Monty's arm,</div> - <div class="i0">Along the highways of the busy world,</div> - <div class="i0">A noted figure, roaming, in my dream,</div> - <div class="i0">All sorts of places in my Favourite East,</div> - <div class="i0">The gleaming halls and splendours of Lothair.</div> - <div class="i0">Alas for that grand piece of statesmanship,</div> - <div class="i0">That glorious work, the Berlin settlement!</div> - <div class="i0">So highly lauded by my chosen print</div> - <div class="i0">The <em>Daily Telegraph</em>. Almost I seemed</div> - <div class="i0">To its great heart none other than a god!</div> - <div class="i0">Bulgaria asked for independency;</div> - <div class="i0">'Twas granted with a few strokes of the pen.</div> - <div class="i0">Some people really don't care what they grant.</div> - <div class="i0">But the strong Russ, indignant, worked his will,</div> - <div class="i0">Pared down and minimised my settlement;</div> - <div class="i0">And though he could not end it, left it maimed,</div> - <div class="i0">The veriest of hashes. Can fine words</div> - <div class="i0">From Salisbury make amends? Though even yet</div> - <div class="i0">Our faithful organs in the daily press</div> - <div class="i0">Are tremulous with praise, weep tears of joy</div> - <div class="i0">To hear us. Come, let's go; we've had enough</div> - <div class="i0">Of Government. How can a man desire</div> - <div class="i0">To mix with Irish members, rowdy lot,</div> - <div class="i0">Who never mind the ruling of the Chair,</div> - <div class="i0">But pass beyond the Speaker's ordinance,</div> - <div class="i0">Which all obey—or ought to, if they don't?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A black cloud hovers o'er the Cape: there come</div> - <div class="i0">Glimpses of dark men we have made our foes.</div> - <div class="i0">Once more I hear the rumour steal abroad</div> - <div class="i0">Of an election-time approaching near;</div> - <div class="i0">And who can tell the upshot? Will the rout</div> - <div class="i0">Whom I enfranchised not so long ago</div> - <div class="i0">Shake off the yoke of Tory Government,</div> - <div class="i0">And bring the Liberals in instead? Who knows?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Fain would I get me to the gorgeous East!</div> - <div class="i0">I wonder how my constitution stands</div> - <div class="i0">The rigours of this chilly English clime,</div> - <div class="i0">This so-called summer, wretched, cold, and wet.</div> - <div class="i0">I shiver by the fireside, while the steam</div> - <div class="i0">Floats from the damp fields round my country seat,</div> - <div class="i0">And racks my agèd bones with rheumatism.</div> - <div class="i0">Place me upon some Asiatic throne,</div> - <div class="i0">Give me an empire in the realms of morn,</div> - <div class="i0">Thither I'd hasten from this <em>bourgeois</em> court</div> - <div class="i0">On a triumphal car with silver wheels.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">V. A. C. A.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>The World</em>, July 30, 1879.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>W<span class="smcapa">HAT</span> L<span class="smcapa">OCKSLEY</span> H<span class="smcapa">ALL</span> S<span class="smcapa">AID</span> B<span class="smcapa">EFORE HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ASSED HIS</span> O<span class="smcapa">XFORD</span> R<span class="smcapa">ESPONSIONS</span>,</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Vulgo</em> S<span class="smcapa">MALLS</span>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O<span class="smcapa">H</span> the misery of "Smalls!" the cark, the turmoil, and the grind!</div> - <div class="i0">Oh the cruel, cruel fetters which are wreathing round my mind!</div> - <div class="i0">There is grammar, there is <em>Euclid</em>, and far worse than all of these,</div> - <div class="i0">Arithmetical refinements, with their stocks, and rules of threes,</div> - <div class="i0">With their discount and their practice, and their very vulgar fractions,</div> - <div class="i0">Smashing up the one ideal into many paltry factions.</div> - <div class="i0">Square root makes the head to ache, the decimals the tear to start,</div> - <div class="i0">For they're ever circulating round the fibres of my heart—</div> - <div class="i0">Learning grammar is like putting water in a leaky pot,</div> - <div class="i0">And its memory is only like the days remembered not;</div> - <div class="i0">Verbs in "M I" are aggravating, <em>Euclid</em> makes the foot to stamp,</div> - <div class="i0">Only lucid when enlightened by a moderator lamp,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> - <div class="i0">The old spider and his cobwebs! would that I could sweep them out</div> - <div class="i0">From the dust and must of ages with a triumph and a shout;</div> - <div class="i0">Shall I spurn him with my foot, or shall I scorn him with mine eye?</div> - <div class="i0">Shall I tear him into pieces? S<span class="smcapa">OUTHEY</span> burnt him—so will I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">C. C.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p>B. N. C. <em>College Rhymes</em>, 1861.</p></blockquote> - -<p>These lines also appeared in <em>Punch</em>.</p> - -<p>There was also an early parody of "Locksley -Hall" in <em>Punch</em>, describing the Railway Mania -of 1845. This parody was rather technical in its -language, not very amusing, and is now quite -out of date.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>B<span class="smcapa">ATTUE</span> S<span class="smcapa">HOOTING.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Gather round, my noble comrades; hardy sportsmen, gather where,</div> - <div class="i0">Placed in yonder shaded corner, stands for each an easy chair;</div> - <div class="i0">Close behind are well-packed hampers, and attendants duly wait</div> - <div class="i0">To reload your deadly weapons while you sit and shoot in state.</div> - <div class="i0">Amply fed and reared, my pheasants—tame they'll answer to your call,</div> - <div class="i0">But, like whirling leaves in winter, soon you'll see them thickly fall.</div> - <div class="i0">Hark, the beaters drive them forward. Now, prepare—the time is nigh,</div> - <div class="i0">We shall soon reduce their numbers. Peste! they're far too fat to fly!</div> - <div class="i0">See the startled hares and rabbits vainly shelter safe have sought,</div> - <div class="i0">Headlong rushing, mad with terror—surely this is noble sport!</div> - <div class="i0">Eh! what say you? Let go at them, now's the time to try your skill;</div> - <div class="i0">Crawling wounded, lame and fluttering, down they go the bag to fill.</div> - <div class="i0">Warmish work, and quite fatiguing—let's refresh ere we renew.</div> - <div class="i0">Vulgar hinds may sneer and welcome. Vive, say I, the good battue!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Surely those who so love slaughter might, when close time comes for grouse,</div> - <div class="i0">Find congenial occupation if they donned the butcher's blouse.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i20">D. E<span class="smcapa">VANS.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>The Weekly Dispatch</em>, August 31, 1884.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>G<span class="smcapa">ODIVA.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>A Pose Plastique</em>, by Madame Warton, -<em>before</em> the forthcoming picture by Edwin Landseer, R.A.)</p> - -<p class="center">O<span class="smcapa">R, THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">EEPING</span> G<span class="smcapa">ENT OF</span> C<span class="smcapa">OVENTRY</span> S<span class="smcapa">TREET</span>.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>I waited in the street named Coventry;</em></div> - <div class="i0"><em>I hung outside the 'bus from Putney Bridge,</em></div> - <div class="i0"><em>To watch the three short fares; and there I shaped</em></div> - <div class="i0"><em>The last new "Tableau Vivant" into this.</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> only we, the smartest blades on Town,</div> - <div class="i0">Fast men that with the speed of an express</div> - <div class="i0">Run down the slow, not only we, that prate</div> - <div class="i0">Of gents and snobs, have loved the genus well,</div> - <div class="i0">And loathed to see them unamused; but she</div> - <div class="i0">Did more, and undertook, and overcame,</div> - <div class="i0">The Venus of the <em>Tableaux Vivans</em>—Madame</div> - <div class="i0">Warton, Queen of the Walhalla, near the street</div> - <div class="i0">Of Coventry: for when there was nought up</div> - <div class="i0">To take the Town, the Gents all came to her,</div> - <div class="i0">Clamouring, "If this last, we die of slowness!"</div> - <div class="i0">She sought a painter, found him where he strode</div> - <div class="i0">About the room, among his dogs, alone,</div> - <div class="i0">His beard shaved close before him, and his hair</div> - <div class="i0">Cropped short behind. She told him the Gents' fears,</div> - <div class="i0">And prayed him, "If this last, they die of slowness!"</div> - <div class="i0">Whereat he stared, replying, half-amazed,</div> - <div class="i0">"What would you have <em>me</em> do—an animal painter—</div> - <div class="i0">For such as <em>these?</em>" "A <em>Tableau</em> paint," said she.</div> - <div class="i0">He laughed, and talked about Sir Peter Laurie.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then chucked her playfully beneath the chin;</div> - <div class="i0">"O, ay, ay, ay, you talk!" "Talk! yes!" she said.</div> - <div class="i0">"But paint it, and prove what I will not do."</div> - <div class="i0">And with a sly wink there was no mistaking,</div> - <div class="i0">He answered, "Ride you as the famed Godiva,"</div> - <div class="i0">And I will paint it," she nodded, and in jest</div> - <div class="i0">They parted, and a cabman drove her home.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">All was arranged. The boardmen in the street,</div> - <div class="i0">As curs about a bone, with snarl and blow</div> - <div class="i0">Made war upon each other for a board:</div> - <div class="i0">The best man won. She sent bill-stickers forth,</div> - <div class="i0">And bade them cover over every hoarding</div> - <div class="i0">With large placards, announcing she would please</div> - <div class="i0">Her favourite gents; who, as they loved her well,</div> - <div class="i0">From then till Monday next, in crowds should come</div> - <div class="i0">And gaze at her,—each one his shilling paying</div> - <div class="i0">For seats within the public promenade.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Then went she to her dressing room, and there</div> - <div class="i0">Unhooked the wedded fastenings of her gown,</div> - <div class="i0">Some soft one's gift; but every now and then</div> - <div class="i0">She lingered, looking in her toilette glass,</div> - <div class="i0">Rougeing her cheek: anon she shook herself,</div> - <div class="i0">And showered the rumpled raiment 'neath her knee;</div> - <div class="i0">Then clad herself in silk; adown the stair</div> - <div class="i0">Stole on; and like a bashful maiden slid</div> - <div class="i0">Through passage and through passage, until she reached</div> - <div class="i0">The platform; there she found her palfrey trapt</div> - <div class="i0">With pewter logies and mosaic gold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Then rode she forth, clothed all in silken tights:</div> - <div class="i0">The fiddles played beneath her as she rode,</div> - <div class="i0">And the reserved seats hardly breathed for fear.</div> - <div class="i0">The little wide-mouthed heads beyond the stalls</div> - <div class="i0">Had cunning eyes to see: the crimson rouge</div> - <div class="i0">Made her cheek flame: a fast man, winking, shot</div> - <div class="i0">Light horrors through her pulses: the saloon</div> - <div class="i0">Was all in darkness; though from overhead</div> - <div class="i0">The flickering gas-light dimly flared: but she</div> - <div class="i0">Not less through all bore up, till, last she gave</div> - <div class="i0">The signal to the workmen in the flats,</div> - <div class="i0">And round upon the pivot slow she turned.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then rode she back, clothed all in silken tights:</div> - <div class="i0">And one low Gent, decked out in Joinville tie,</div> - <div class="i0">The certain symbol of a Gentish taste,</div> - <div class="i0">Using an ivory opera-glass he'd hired,</div> - <div class="i0">Peeped—but the glasses, ere he had his fill,</div> - <div class="i0">Were shivered into pieces, and the curtain</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Was dropt before him; so that the deposit</div> - <div class="i0">Left on the glass was forfeit to the Jew;</div> - <div class="i0">And he that knew it grieved: Now all at once,</div> - <div class="i0">With twelve great shocks of sound, the interlude</div> - <div class="i0">Was scraped on cat-gut from a dozen fiddles,</div> - <div class="i0">One after one, for neither did keep time,</div> - <div class="i0">Nor play in tune: and Madame Warton gained</div> - <div class="i0">Her chamber; whence re-issuing, as "Venus</div> - <div class="i0">Rising from the Sea," the ennui passed away,</div> - <div class="i0">And she made everlasting lots of tin.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4"><em>The Puppet Show</em>, April 1, 1848.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">OYAGE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">E</span> hired a ship: we heaved a shout:</div> - <div class="i1">We turned her head towards the sea;</div> - <div class="i0">We laugh'd and scull'd, and baled her out,</div> - <div class="i1">We scream'd and whistled loud for glee:</div> - <div class="i0">We scull'd, we scream'd, we laugh'd, we sang,</div> - <div class="i1">Beneath the merry stars of June:</div> - <div class="i0">Went flute tu-tu, and banjo bang:</div> - <div class="i1">We meant to sail into the moon!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Far off a boatman hail'd us high:</div> - <div class="i1">"My boat is named the Bonny Bess;</div> - <div class="i0">Old Jack will charge you more than I,</div> - <div class="i1">For I will charge you sixpence less:</div> - <div class="i0">My boat is strong, and swift, and taut,</div> - <div class="i1">But Jack's—she is not worth a cuss."</div> - <div class="i0">We held his terms in scorn, for what</div> - <div class="i1">Was sixpence or a crown to us?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We bang'd; we baled; we scull'd; we scream'd;</div> - <div class="i1">The water gain'd upon us fast.</div> - <div class="i0">We looked upon the moon: she seem'd</div> - <div class="i1">As far as when we saw her last.</div> - <div class="i0">We look'd: no terror did we show;</div> - <div class="i1">We did not care a button, we;</div> - <div class="i0">We knew the good ship could not go</div> - <div class="i1"><em>Beyond</em> the bottom of the sea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But one—at best he was a lout—</div> - <div class="i1">The same, we guess, was short of chink—</div> - <div class="i0">Exclaim'd in terror, "Let me out,</div> - <div class="i1">I am quite sure the ship will sink.</div> - <div class="i0">The leak is quickly gaining height;</div> - <div class="i1">'Twill soon be half-way up the mast."</div> - <div class="i0">And through the hatch that starry night</div> - <div class="i1">We let him out, and on we pass'd.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slight skiffs aslant the starboard slipt,</div> - <div class="i1">And jet-black coal-boats, stoled in state,</div> - <div class="i0">And slender shallops, silvern tipp'd,</div> - <div class="i1">And other craft both small and great.</div> - <div class="i0">But we nor changed to skiff or barge,</div> - <div class="i1">Or slender shallops, silvern-peak'd;</div> - <div class="i0">We knew no vessel, small or large,</div> - <div class="i1">Was built by mortal hands, but leak'd.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Beyond the blank horizon burn'd;</div> - <div class="i1">The moon had slid below the main;</div> - <div class="i0">About the bows we sharply turn'd,</div> - <div class="i1">And scull'd the good ship home again.</div> - <div class="i0">Before us gleam'd the hazy dawn;</div> - <div class="i1">We scull'd, but ere we shockt the lea,</div> - <div class="i0">And paid old Jack, the ship had gone</div> - <div class="i1">Down to the bottom of the sea.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Above the wreck the sad sea breaks,</div> - <div class="i1">And many a pitying moonlight streams;</div> - <div class="i0">And o'er the yeasty water flakes</div> - <div class="i1">The snow-white sea-gull, sliding screams.</div> - <div class="i0">If any goods be wash'd ashore,</div> - <div class="i1">Or cash—if any cash be found—</div> - <div class="i0">To us, and not to Jack, restore:</div> - <div class="i1">But then—you cannot; we were drowned.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">S. K. C.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>Kottabos</em> (William McGee), Dublin, 1875.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0a">"B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">On thy cold gray stones, O sea!</div> - <div class="i0">And I would that my tongue could utter</div> - <div class="i1">The thoughts that arise in me."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It seems hard to believe that the weather was -even hotter in New York during last June than -it was in London during certain days of July -and August. An American poet thus records -his impressions:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">H<span class="smcapa">OT</span>, hot, hot,</div> - <div class="i1">Is the blistering breath of June,</div> - <div class="i0">And I would that my throat could utter</div> - <div class="i1">An anti-torridness tune.</div> - <div class="i0">O well for the Esquimau</div> - <div class="i1">That he sits on a cake of ice!</div> - <div class="i0">O well for the Polar bear</div> - <div class="i1">That he looks so cool and nice!</div> - <div class="i0">But the scorching heats pours down</div> - <div class="i1">And blisters both head and feet!</div> - <div class="i0">And O for a touch of vanished frost,</div> - <div class="i1">Or the sound of some hail and sleet!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AY OF THE</span> D<span class="smcapa">RENCHED</span> O<span class="smcapa">NE</span>.</h3> - -<p>(<em>Time</em>, 11.45 <span class="smcapa">P.M.</span>)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">P<span class="smcapa">ELT</span>, pelt, pelt,</div> - <div class="i0">On the cold wet earth, thou Rain!</div> - <div class="i0">While my tongue is about to utter</div> - <div class="i0">The anger that swells in my brain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, well for the waterproof'd gent,</div> - <div class="i0">As he walks in his shiny array:</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, well for the dandified swell,</div> - <div class="i0">As he drives in his cabriolet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the last lone 'bus rolls on,</div> - <div class="i0">As full as its guard can fill;</div> - <div class="i0">But oh for the sight of a vanish'd cab,</div> - <div class="i0">And the sound of a wheel that's still!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Pelt, pelt, pelt,</div> - <div class="i0">On the damp, drench'd streets, O Rain;</div> - <div class="i0">But the tender bloom of a dress-coat spoilt</div> - <div class="i0">Will never return again.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> C<span class="smcapa">OLLETT</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"But, says the <cite>Sporting Times</cite>, Calcutta is a rough place -for a 'stony-broke,' for there is no comfortable workhouse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -for Europeans, such as would remind one of Tennyson's -well-known 'Workhouse Song.'"—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0a">"Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">All these cursed stones I see,</div> - <div class="i1">For that is the task they've set me,</div> - <div class="i1">And <em>I wish that I wasn't me</em>."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">AKE</span>! wake! wake!</div> - <div class="i1">In thy Northern land so free,</div> - <div class="i0">And our eloquent leader utters</div> - <div class="i1">A protest for you and me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, well for Midlothian's sons</div> - <div class="i1">That they shout with him in the fray,</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, well for our British lads,</div> - <div class="i1">For we know he will gain us the day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the Franchise war goes on,</div> - <div class="i1">Though the Lords would have us be still;</div> - <div class="i0">But, O for our triumph, thou Grand Old Man,</div> - <div class="i1">When the people have their bill.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wake! wake! wake!</div> - <div class="i1">To the war-cry of "Liberty!"</div> - <div class="i0">And slav'ry's old despotic days</div> - <div class="i1">Shall never return to thee.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">R<span class="smcapa">ICHARD</span> H. W. Y<span class="smcapa">EABSLEY</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>The Weekly Dispatch</em>, September 14, 1884.<br /> -(Parody Competition).</p> - -<p class="center">———♦———</p> - - -<h3>R<span class="smcapa">HYME FOR</span> R<span class="smcapa">OGERS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Howe'er it be, it seems to me</div> - <div class="i1">A House of Peers can be no good:</div> - <div class="i0">Mob caps are more than coronets,</div> - <div class="i1">And Hyde Park crowds than Hatfield's brood.</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Punch</em>, September 6, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">———♦———</p> - -<p>Tennyson's "Enoch Arden" has been less -frequently parodied than most of his poems; -some years ago the Australian Punch had a -clever burlesque of it, and a "continuation" of -Enoch Arden was privately printed in 1866. -This very scarce little pamphlet consisted of -twelve pages, in a blue wrapper, and had no -printer's name or place on it. As it is now -eagerly sought after by collectors of Tennysoniana, -it is here given in full:—</p> - - -<h2>ENOCH ARDEN,</h2> - -<p class="center">(CONTINUED)</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="small70">BY</span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="fone">C. H. P</span>.</p> - -<hr class="h5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not by the "L<span class="smcapa">AUREAT</span>,"—but a timid hand</div> - <div class="i0">That grasped the Poet's golden lyre, "and back</div> - <div class="i0">Recoil'd,—e'en at the sound herself had made."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="h5" /> - -<p class="center">1866.</p> - - -<h3>E<span class="smcapa">NOCH</span> A<span class="smcapa">RDEN</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Continued</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So Enoch died, as he had lived so long.</div> - <div class="i0">Alone—alone! for Miriam Lane had pass'd</div> - <div class="i0">To an adjoining chamber; but she heard</div> - <div class="i0">Those joyous dying words, "A sail! a sail!</div> - <div class="i0">I'm sav'd," and hurried back to comfort him;</div> - <div class="i0">But wist not that the "sail" his spirit saw</div> - <div class="i0">Was God's own ark, propell'd by angel wings</div> - <div class="i0">Towards the Ocean of Eternity.</div> - <div class="i1">"Ah well!" she said; "poor Enoch! he is gone;</div> - <div class="i0">God rest his soul: give him more joy in Heaven</div> - <div class="i0">Than he had found on earth,—at least of late:</div> - <div class="i0">I thought he had not long to linger here,</div> - <div class="i0">The sea made such a moaning all the night:</div> - <div class="i0">It sounded like his death-wail; and methought</div> - <div class="i0">I saw the corpse-light dancing in the fen.</div> - <div class="i0">Now will I tell the neighbours who he was:</div> - <div class="i0">They'll wonder how Dame Miriam knew the truth,</div> - <div class="i0">But kept it close, because she loved her friend</div> - <div class="i0">Enoch:—they cannot call me gossip now."</div> - <div class="i1">It chanced that day, that Philip left his mill</div> - <div class="i0">Earlier than wont: the nutting-time was come,—</div> - <div class="i0">That season of the year so closely link'd</div> - <div class="i0">To Philip's destiny;—it seem'd to stir</div> - <div class="i0">His pulse to quicker beat, and send a thrill</div> - <div class="i0">Of strange mysterious feeling thro' his veins.</div> - <div class="i0">He knew not how, or why: but Philip hurried on</div> - <div class="i0">That he might keep the promised holiday</div> - <div class="i0">With all the children—his, and hers, and theirs—</div> - <div class="i0">All dear to him; nor least the bonny Ralph,</div> - <div class="i0">That last wee prattler, climbing to his knee.</div> - <div class="i0">And all were ready with their nutting crooks;</div> - <div class="i0">And Annie Ray, his own, his wife at last,—</div> - <div class="i0">His "beam of sunshine," as he called her oft.</div> - <div class="i0">But as he left his mill, the passing-bell,</div> - <div class="i0">With its first startling boom, tolled on his ear.</div> - <div class="i0">It is a sound that enters at the brain,</div> - <div class="i0">A saddening augury of woe, and strikes</div> - <div class="i0">The inmost chord of sympathising hearts</div> - <div class="i0">That fondly breathe an echoing sigh of pain.</div> - <div class="i0">Sudden it falls, chilly as winter's frost,</div> - <div class="i0">Turning to icicles the heart's warm blood.</div> - <div class="i1">Spoke Philip to the comrade at his side,</div> - <div class="i0">"Know you for whom that passing-bell is struck?</div> - <div class="i0">Some full-grown man: it is the minute-toll."</div> - <div class="i0">"Mayhap the stranger down at Miriam Lane's;</div> - <div class="i0">I heard that he was dying yester-e'en.</div> - <div class="i0">The tide has turn'd but now: 'tis running out;</div> - <div class="i0">Whoe'er he was, his soul upon the shore</div> - <div class="i0">Waited the ebbing tide to ebb away."</div> - <div class="i1">Then came they to a little knot of men</div> - <div class="i0">(Fishers in dark-blue knitted woollen vests)</div> - <div class="i0">Hard by "the idle corner,"—so 'twas called,—</div> - <div class="i0">The blacksmith's forge. The honest gossippers,</div> - <div class="i0">As Philip pass'd along, hushed their voices.</div> - <div class="i0">Could he have read their looks, he might have known</div> - <div class="i0">Some dark o'er-clouding sorrow was at hand,</div> - <div class="i0">More nigh than he could think for, and more hard.</div> - <div class="i0">Then passed a woman from the ale-house door,</div> - <div class="i0">And, all unwitting Philip was so near,</div> - <div class="i0">Cried, "Have you heard who died just now?</div> - <div class="i0">'Twas Enoch Arden,—lost, but late returned;</div> - <div class="i0">And Miriam Lane has known it all along!"</div> - <div class="i0">As if some hand had struck a sudden blow,</div> - <div class="i0">Philip seemed stunned: the blood forsook his cheek,</div> - <div class="i0">The big cold drops stood out upon his brow,</div> - <div class="i0">As on the victim's, stretched upon the rack.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> - <div class="i0">His comrade laid his hand on Philip's arm,</div> - <div class="i0">And uttering no word (what could he say?)</div> - <div class="i0">Led him, as one half-blinded, step by step,</div> - <div class="i0">Until they reached the home, where Annie Ray,</div> - <div class="i0">Poor widow-wife, sat watching his return;</div> - <div class="i0">He stagger'd towards her, caught her in his arms:</div> - <div class="i0">God help me,—kiss me darling,—wife look up!</div> - <div class="i0">"My wife—his wife—I know not what I say:</div> - <div class="i0">If we did sin it was unwittingly;</div> - <div class="i0">O, Annie! darling, one more fond embrace,</div> - <div class="i0">E'er it be said our wedded love was wrong."</div> - <div class="i0">Then, as she wonder'd, gazing on his face,</div> - <div class="i0">And twined her loving arms around, he told,—</div> - <div class="i0">Yes, told her all—how Enoch had returned.</div> - <div class="i1">Then Philip's comrade, who had linger'd near,</div> - <div class="i0">Beckon'd the children out, and closed the door:</div> - <div class="i0">There Miriam met them, with the lock of hair:</div> - <div class="i0">But, loth to interrupt the sorrowers,</div> - <div class="i0">She led the children to the house of death;</div> - <div class="i0">And took a key from off the wooden peg,</div> - <div class="i0">Beside the settle, where she used to hang</div> - <div class="i0">The skeins of twine to mend the fishing nets:</div> - <div class="i0">Then gently led them up the narrow stair,</div> - <div class="i0">That creaked beneath their stealthy-moving tread.</div> - <div class="i0">Sacred the silence that we ever keep,</div> - <div class="i0">When death is in the house! we speak, we walk,</div> - <div class="i0">With muffled tone and step, as if the dead</div> - <div class="i0">Could be disturb'd, and waken out of sleep.</div> - <div class="i0">Then Miriam turn'd the key;—that jarring click!</div> - <div class="i0">How harsh it grated on the children's ear!</div> - <div class="i0">As do the pebbles on the boat's sharp keel.</div> - <div class="i0">Cold thro' the open casement came the breeze:</div> - <div class="i0">There stood the bed—and on the sacking lay,</div> - <div class="i0">Distinct beneath the sheet, a rigid form—</div> - <div class="i0">The feet so prominent, the arms close down!—</div> - <div class="i0">The children clung together, half afraid,</div> - <div class="i0">While Miriam turned the coverlid aside.</div> - <div class="i0">They dar'd not stoop to kiss the pallid face;</div> - <div class="i0">But gaz'd awhile, then slowly left the room.</div> - <div class="i0">Once they had seen their brother, as he lay</div> - <div class="i0">Dead in his little cot: but he had look'd</div> - <div class="i0">So beautiful asleep, you might have thought</div> - <div class="i0">Death's angel had but gently turned him round,</div> - <div class="i0">To rest more quietly: the tiny hands</div> - <div class="i0">Were clasp'd together, and the face bent down,</div> - <div class="i0">As resting on the pillow—not like this,—</div> - <div class="i0">So stiff, so cold, so utterly alone.</div> - <div class="i1">Now, as the twilight fell the second day,</div> - <div class="i0">Another mourner came: she spoke no word:</div> - <div class="i0">Miriam had put the key within her hand,</div> - <div class="i0">Turning aside, to dash away her tears:</div> - <div class="i0">The widowed woman went up-stairs alone.</div> - <div class="i1">One moment gazing on her Enoch's face,</div> - <div class="i0">She stoop'd to kiss it, putting back the hair,</div> - <div class="i0">As she had done in life: then kneeling down</div> - <div class="i0">She pray'd,—"forgive me,—pity me,—Oh God."</div> - <div class="i0">She touch'd his marble-cold, pale, hand with hers,</div> - <div class="i0">That bore e'en then the double wedding rings.</div> - <div class="i0">She laid her aching head upon his breast,—</div> - <div class="i0">When from her lips came forth a cry,—a shriek,</div> - <div class="i0">Like to a hare's when shot: and Miriam came,</div> - <div class="i0">And bore her senseless from the room of death.</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas strange how quick the widow's glance had caught</div> - <div class="i0">Each little circumstance of the chamber,</div> - <div class="i0">And noted in her loving memory,—</div> - <div class="i0">How on the table lay his Bible—closed:</div> - <div class="i0">No need had Enoch now of Holy Writ,</div> - <div class="i0">No need of Gospel Message; for he stood</div> - <div class="i0">In presence of his S<span class="smcapa">AVIOUR</span>, and his G<span class="smcapa">OD</span>.</div> - <div class="i0">But had she open'd where the much-worn page</div> - <div class="i0">Told of the frequent reading, she had seen</div> - <div class="i0">The marks of blistering tears upon that text,</div> - <div class="i0">"Whose shall she be in Heav'n? there they marry</div> - <div class="i0">Not, nor give in marriage, but are angels."</div> - <div class="i0">There was a fly upon the window pane</div> - <div class="i0">Whose low monotonous hum she scarcely heard,</div> - <div class="i0">And that unconscious; but in after years</div> - <div class="i0">The buzzing of a summer fly recall'd,</div> - <div class="i0">E'en in her happiest hours, <em>that</em> day,</div> - <div class="i0">That lonely visit to the bed of death;</div> - <div class="i0">And cast a moment's shadow o'er her heart.</div> - <div class="i1">More keenly she remarked the remnant store</div> - <div class="i0">Of lulling anodynes: ah! bootless all</div> - <div class="i0">To soothe the fever of his aching brain:</div> - <div class="i0">The Wise Physician healed him with a touch,</div> - <div class="i0">(E'en as we lay our hand on ringing glass</div> - <div class="i0">To still the sound that careless fingers make),</div> - <div class="i0">And sent a loving angel as his guide</div> - <div class="i0">Through the dark valley to the realms of joy.</div> - <div class="i1">There lay his watch, his big round silver watch,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose constant tick had sadly echoed "Home"</div> - <div class="i0">In all his wanderings; now its pulse was hushed:</div> - <div class="i0">No need of Time for him: he had Eternity.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Then Philip left the village for awhile:</div> - <div class="i0">And when once more the nutting-season came,</div> - <div class="i0">And yellow "rust-spots" on the autumn leaves,</div> - <div class="i0">He and his Annie were again at home!</div> - <div class="i0">They'd learnt the lesson God had set them, "Wait:"</div> - <div class="i0">And now the time of their reward was come:</div> - <div class="i0">In <em>Faith's</em> strong soil <em>Patience</em> had taken root,</div> - <div class="i0">And brought forth <em>Hope</em> and <em>Joy</em>, as bloom and fruit.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>ENOCH'S "HARD 'UN."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">P<span class="smcapa">ART</span> I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">In a fair village on the English coast</div> - <div class="i0">There dwelt a lad—they called him Hunky Sam.</div> - <div class="i0">He was but young—three years, or may be four,</div> - <div class="i0">But manly for his age; his appetite</div> - <div class="i0">For bulls'-eyes, "coker"-nuts, and such light fare</div> - <div class="i0">Was something awful, even for a boy;</div> - <div class="i0">But better far than even coker-nuts,</div> - <div class="i0">He loved a maiden of surpassing grace—</div> - <div class="i0">Of humble parentage, but very fair,</div> - <div class="i0">Whose name euphonious was Susan Ann.</div> - <div class="i0">The parents of these twain were fisher-folk</div> - <div class="i0">Of low degree, but honest to a fault.</div> - <div class="i0">They would not steal the veriest pin, unless</div> - <div class="i0">They were quite certain they would not be caught.</div> - <div class="i0">Now Hunky's love for peerless Susan Ann</div> - <div class="i0">Was felt by her, and given back to Hunk;</div> - <div class="i0">And as the twain upon the yellow sands</div> - <div class="i0">Would play, young Sam would say, "Now let us be,</div> - <div class="i0">As grown-up folks, and we'll pretend we are</div> - <div class="i0">A wedded pair, and I will be a man,</div> - <div class="i0">And you, dear Susan Ann, my little wife;</div> - <div class="i0">And you, go sit within yon gloomy cave,</div> - <div class="i0">Which we will make believe to be our house,</div> - <div class="i0">And I'll come staggering in like daddy does,</div> - <div class="i0">And you can belt me on my flaxen head</div> - <div class="i0">With this small stick, which we will call a broom—</div> - <div class="i0">For that's the way my dad and mammy do."</div> - <div class="i0">And so they played upon the seashore sand</div> - <div class="i0">Till Susan Ann had got the thing down fine.</div> - <div class="i0">And time sped on, and Sam and Susan Ann</div> - <div class="i0">Were married, and the twain became one flesh.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - - <div class="p6">P<span class="smcapa">ART</span> II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sam went to sea, and whilst upon a voyage,</div> - <div class="i0">He read of Enoch Arden and his woes;</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> - <div class="i0">And so he soon resolved to do the same</div> - <div class="i0">As in the book he read that Enoch did.</div> - <div class="i0">To carry out his plan he sent word home,</div> - <div class="i0">By trusty shipmate, to his Susan Ann,</div> - <div class="i0">That he was drowned. He really did not care</div> - <div class="i0">A great deal for his once-loved Susan Ann,</div> - <div class="i0">Who, when the knot had but been tied a year,</div> - <div class="i0">Had clearly showed that she could be the boss.</div> - <div class="i0">So time sped on, and artful Hunky Sam</div> - <div class="i0">In foreign climates had a jolly time</div> - <div class="i0">For several years. "I think I'll homeward sail,"</div> - <div class="i0">One day he said, "and see how Susan Ann</div> - <div class="i0">Gets on; like Enoch, I will softly glide</div> - <div class="i0">Towards the cottage there upon the cliff,</div> - <div class="i0">And see how she makes out with her new man,</div> - <div class="i0">For she is doubtless wedded once again,</div> - <div class="i0">Just like that Mrs. Arden in the book."</div> - <div class="i0">Away he sailed across the sounding surge</div> - <div class="i0">(A good expression that, but not my own),</div> - <div class="i0">And soon he reached his village on the coast.</div> - <div class="i0">'Twas night. He crept towards the little cot</div> - <div class="i0">Where once he'd dwelt. A light was burning clear;</div> - <div class="i0">He peered in through the window. Susan Ann</div> - <div class="i0">Was there, but t'other fellow was away.</div> - <div class="i0">His wife glanced up: she saw the faithless Sam;</div> - <div class="i0">She sprang towards him—grabbed him by the hair</div> - <div class="i0">And held him there, whilst with her other arm</div> - <div class="i0">She dealt him myriad thwacks with broomstick stout.</div> - <div class="i0">"You would," she cried—"you would say you were dead,</div> - <div class="i0">And with your foreign gals go cuttin' up;</div> - <div class="i0">And leave me here to take in washing—eh?</div> - <div class="i0">You wretch! take that, and that, and that, and that!"</div> - <div class="i0">Each "that" being followed by a sickening thud.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - - <div class="p6">P<span class="smcapa">ART</span> III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The curtain falls on this delightful scene,</div> - <div class="i0">As space is precious and will not permit</div> - <div class="i0">Of further details; but this goes to show</div> - <div class="i0">That things don't always turn out just the same</div> - <div class="i0">As those we read about in poets' yarns.</div> - <div class="i0">Another thing it shows—that Susan Ann</div> - <div class="i0">Had learned a trick when playing at being wed</div> - <div class="i0">Upon the seashore in her youthful days</div> - <div class="i0">That stood her in good stead in after years—</div> - <div class="i0">The wielding of the broomstick here is meant.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Scraps</em>, August 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>A<span class="smcapa">FTER</span> T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON'S</span> "G<span class="smcapa">RANDMOTHER</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And Willy, with Franchise horn, is gone to blow in the North!</div> - <div class="i0">Sturdy, though white, and strong on his legs, bravely holding forth;</div> - <div class="i0">And Willy's wife is with him—she ever was true and wise,</div> - <div class="i0">Always a wife for Willy—he often takes her advice.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For madame, you see, is clever; she loves her Franchise Bill,</div> - <div class="i0">And he can talk so ready, and manage the Scots with skill.</div> - <div class="i0">Pretty enough, very pretty! I won't say against it for one.</div> - <div class="i0">Eh! but my Lords shall fear him—when Willy his task has done.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Willy, my beauty, my chieftain true, the flower of the flock,</div> - <div class="i0">Never a lord can move him, for Willy stands like a rock.</div> - <div class="i0">He has always a word for the weak, for crofter and fellaheen too;</div> - <div class="i0">There ne'er was his like in the land, since Eighteen-thirty-two.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Strong for the right, and strong in the fight, strong still in his tongue;</div> - <div class="i0">And peers shall go down before him, though the "feller" is not young.</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome him back, my brothers, from the North land far away,</div> - <div class="i0">Soon shall we liberty see, brothers, when Willy has won the day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">J<span class="smcapa">AMES</span> G. M<span class="smcapa">EAGHER</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>The Weekly Dispatch</em>, September 14, 1884.</p> - -<p class="center">(Parody Competition).</p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>K<span class="smcapa">EEPING</span> T<span class="smcapa">ERM</span> A<span class="smcapa">FTER</span> C<span class="smcapa">OMMEMORATION</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Not by</em> A.—T., Esq.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">STEAL</span> by lawns, to check the train</div> - <div class="i1">Of meditations started</div> - <div class="i0">By seeing duns that come in vain</div> - <div class="i1">For happy men departed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">By empty rooms I hurry down,</div> - <div class="i1">So stumbling down the staircase;</div> - <div class="i0">The cads within the sleepy town</div> - <div class="i1">Think mine a very rare case.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I hail a boat, and down I row</div> - <div class="i1">Along the lonely river,</div> - <div class="i0">For other lucky men may go,</div> - <div class="i1">But I seem here for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I murmur under moon and stars,</div> - <div class="i1">I feel in lunar phrenzy,</div> - <div class="i0">I chide the cursèd fate that bars</div> - <div class="i1">My exit from B. N. C.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I slope, I slouch, I speed, I stop,</div> - <div class="i1">And scan the empty High Street,</div> - <div class="i0">I turn me into Boffin's shop,</div> - <div class="i1">To cheer me with an ice-treat,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Till ice and sad reflection slow</div> - <div class="i1">My diaphragm make quiver,</div> - <div class="i0">For other lucky men may go,</div> - <div class="i1">But I seem here for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I roam about, and in and out</div> - <div class="i1">Poke eyes with envy yellow,</div> - <div class="i0">And here and there I spy a scout,</div> - <div class="i1">And here and there a fellow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And here and there a good mamma,</div> - <div class="i1">Her squalling baby nursing,</div> - <div class="i0">Looks on me pitying, with an "Ah,</div> - <div class="i1">Poor fellow, how he's cursing!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For, sailor like, I storm and "blow</div> - <div class="i1">My eyes" and "timbers shiver,"</div> - <div class="i0">That other lucky men may go,</div> - <div class="i1">But I seem here for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">B<span class="smcapa">RASENOSE</span> C<span class="smcapa">OLLEGE</span>, Oxford.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1870.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AIDEN'S</span> L<span class="smcapa">AMENT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>After Tennyson</em> (<em>and a long way after, too</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> many a care my life's beset,</div> - <div class="i1">My charms are growing mellow,</div> - <div class="i0">And I have not secured as yet</div> - <div class="i1">An eligible fellow.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> - <div class="i0">I sing, I play, and through the dance</div> - <div class="i1">I skim like any swallow;</div> - <div class="i0">The ladies look at me askance,</div> - <div class="i1">And say I'm vain and shallow.</div> - <div class="i0">I chatter, chatter as I go,</div> - <div class="i1">And some pronounce me clever.</div> - <div class="i0">But the men that come they're awfully slow,</div> - <div class="i1">And pop the question <em>never</em>, <em>never</em>.</div> - <div class="i2">Pop the question never, never,</div> - <div class="i2">Pop the question never.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I gad about, and in and out</div> - <div class="i1">My hopeless fate bewailing;</div> - <div class="i0">And think with secret pain and doubt</div> - <div class="i1">Of youth and beauty failing.</div> - <div class="i0">A youth there is for whose dear sake</div> - <div class="i1">To distant lands I'd travel;</div> - <div class="i0">I thought he would an offer make</div> - <div class="i1">One evening on the gravel.</div> - <div class="i0">He spoke in accents soft and low,</div> - <div class="i1">But word of love came never.</div> - <div class="i0">The men that come are sure to go,</div> - <div class="i1">And some take leave for ever,</div> - <div class="i2">Some take leave for ever, ever,</div> - <div class="i2">Some take leave for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I strive by many cunning plots,</div> - <div class="i1">Their feelings to discover,</div> - <div class="i0">And sometimes sweet forget-me-nots</div> - <div class="i1">Present to backward lover;</div> - <div class="i0">And though with costly gems from far,</div> - <div class="i1">I deck my shining tresses,</div> - <div class="i0">And though I sing of love and war,</div> - <div class="i1">And sport becoming dresses,</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis all in vain this idle show,</div> - <div class="i1">I'll gain their favour never.</div> - <div class="i0">For men may come and men may go,</div> - <div class="i1">But I'm stuck fast for ever,</div> - <div class="i2">I'm stuck fast for ever, ever,</div> - <div class="i2">I'm stack fast for ever.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Harborne Parish Church Bazaar News</em> (Birmingham), -September 26, 1874.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flow down, old river, to the sea,</div> - <div class="i1">Thy tribute-muck deliver!</div> - <div class="i0">But lake this comfort, Thames, from Me,</div> - <div class="i1"><em>This shan't go on for ever!</em></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, August 23, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">UR</span> R<span class="smcapa">IVER</span> (A T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSONIAN</span> I<span class="smcapa">DYLL</span>).<br /> - -O<span class="smcapa">LD</span> F<span class="smcapa">ATHER</span> T<span class="smcapa">HAMES</span>, <em>loq.</em></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"'I <span class="smcapa">COME</span> from haunts of coot and hern,'</div> - <div class="i1">From 'neath green ferns I sally;</div> - <div class="i0">But into me they quickly turn</div> - <div class="i1">The sewage of my valley!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"By fifty sewer mouths I pass—</div> - <div class="i1">My surface black with midges;</div> - <div class="i0">And bubbles huge of sewage gas</div> - <div class="i1">Float down beneath my bridges.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"When first I babble o'er the lea,</div> - <div class="i1">As crystal clear I chatter;</div> - <div class="i0">But twenty towns soon poison me</div> - <div class="i1">With foul organic matter.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Till last by Barking Creek I go,</div> - <div class="i1">A thick, pestiferous river;</div> - <div class="i0">And tides may ebb, and tides may flow,</div> - <div class="i1">But I smell on for ever!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I fill with scum my little bays,</div> - <div class="i1">I coat with slime my pebbles;</div> - <div class="i0">The mud I leave on winter days</div> - <div class="i1">The summer drought soon trebles.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"With many a stench the air I fill,</div> - <div class="i1">With many an odour fetid;</div> - <div class="i0">And epidemics I distil</div> - <div class="i1">Throughout the dog-days heated.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I churn contagion as I go,</div> - <div class="i1">A foul, filth-sodden river;</div> - <div class="i0">For tides may ebb, and tides may flow,</div> - <div class="i1">But I smell on for ever!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I wind about, and in and out,</div> - <div class="i1">With here a dead cat floating,</div> - <div class="i0">And here a party seized, past doubt,</div> - <div class="i1">With sickness whilst they're boating.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And Water Companies extract</div> - <div class="i1">My water as I travel,</div> - <div class="i0">Till I for miles am nought, in fact,</div> - <div class="i1">But banks of mud and gravel.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"In short, if they thus pump me dry,</div> - <div class="i1">And list to reason never,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst Londoners are talking, I</div> - <div class="i1">Shall just flow <em>off</em> for ever!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"As 'tis, the fish are well nigh killed</div> - <div class="i1">In all my urban reaches;</div> - <div class="i0">And places once with gudgeon filled</div> - <div class="i1">Are now too dry for leeches.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I ruin lawns and grassy plots</div> - <div class="i1">By foul deposits spreading;</div> - <div class="i0">I blight the sweet forget-me-nots</div> - <div class="i1">From Twickenham to Reading.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I crawl, I creep, I smell, I smear,</div> - <div class="i1">Amongst my oozy shallows;</div> - <div class="i0">I so pollute the atmosphere</div> - <div class="i1">It quite knocks-up the swallows.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I grow each season more impure,</div> - <div class="i1">As every one's remarking;</div> - <div class="i0">I am an open running sewer</div> - <div class="i1">From Teddington to Barking.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And so upon my course I go,</div> - <div class="i1">A foul, pestiferous river,</div> - <div class="i0">And tides may ebb, and tides may flow,</div> - <div class="i1">But I smell on for ever!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Truth</em>, July 31, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> (N<span class="smcapa">ORTH</span>) B<span class="smcapa">ROOK</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Some Way After Tennyson</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis an ill wind thus blows me out,</div> - <div class="i1">From home I must be sailing,</div> - <div class="i0">Whilst here the rest will chase, no doubt,</div> - <div class="i1">The grouse with zest unfailing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> - - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'm sent to watch by Nile's swift flow.</div> - <div class="i1">Confound that ancient river!</div> - <div class="i0">M.P.'s may come, M.P.'s may go;</div> - <div class="i1">Must I toil on for ever?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, August 16, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>P<span class="smcapa">EERS</span>, I<span class="smcapa">DLE</span> P<span class="smcapa">EERS</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">"The House of Lords sat last night somewhat less than a -quarter of an hour, during which no business was done."</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">P<span class="smcapa">EERS</span>, idle Peers, I know not what they do.</div> - <div class="i0">Peers from the depths of their luxurious chairs</div> - <div class="i0">Rise in the Clubs, and saunter into the House,</div> - <div class="i0">In-looking on the happy Hugh, Lord Cairns,</div> - <div class="i0">And thinking of the Bills that are in store.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Sure as the hammer falling at a sale,</div> - <div class="i0">That makes us travel by the Underground,</div> - <div class="i0">Sad as the feeling when our bargains prove</div> - <div class="i0">Not quite the treasure which we hoped to find;</div> - <div class="i0">So sad, so sure, the Bills that are to bore.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ah, sad (not strange) as on dreary winter morns.</div> - <div class="i0">The surliest knock of half-impatient dun</div> - <div class="i0">To drowsy ears, ere, watched by drowsy eyes,</div> - <div class="i0">The tailor slowly goes across the square;</div> - <div class="i0">So sad, so very sad, the bills that are in store.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Drear as repeated hisses at your Play.</div> - <div class="i0">And drear as dreams by indigestion caused</div> - <div class="i0">To those that take hot suppers; dull as law,</div> - <div class="i0">Dull as dry law, and lost without regret;</div> - <div class="i0">O House of Lords, the Bills that are a bore.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, March 7, 1868.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;</div> - <div class="i1">The cloud may stoop from Heaven and take the shape,</div> - <div class="i1">With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;</div> - <div class="i0">But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee?</div> - <div class="i7">Ask me no more."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON</span> (<em>The Princess</em>).</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">O AN</span> I<span class="smcapa">MPORTUNATE</span> H<span class="smcapa">OST</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>During Dinner, and after Tennyson</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A<span class="smcapa">SK</span> me no more: I've had enough Chablis;</div> - <div class="i1">The wine may come again, and take the shape,</div> - <div class="i1">From glass to glass, of "Mountain" or of "Cape;"</div> - <div class="i0">But, my dear boy, when I have answered thee,</div> - <div class="i7">Ask me no more.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ask me no more: what answer should I give,</div> - <div class="i1">I love not pickled pork nor partridge pie;</div> - <div class="i1">I feel if I took whisky I should die!</div> - <div class="i0">Ask me no more—for I prefer to live:</div> - <div class="i7">Ask me no more.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ask me no more: unless my fate is sealed,</div> - <div class="i1">And I have striven against you all in vain.</div> - <div class="i1">Let your good butler bring me Hock again:</div> - <div class="i0">Then rest, dear boy. If for this once I yield,</div> - <div class="i7">Ask me no more.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">A<span class="smcapa">NONYMOUS</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">To the tune of Tennyson's "Home they brought -her warrior dead."</p> - -<p>(General Hill fell in the battle before Petersburg, and was -the last man buried with military honours on the eve of the -evacuation).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">L<span class="smcapa">AY</span> the stern old warrior down,</div> - <div class="i1">Deeply in his narrow bed,</div> - <div class="i0">Ere the conqueror sack the town,</div> - <div class="i1">Ere the foeman o'er him tread.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They who checked the battle-tide—</div> - <div class="i1">Hoary warriors weeping said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Foremost where the bravest died,</div> - <div class="i1">Foremost where his country bled."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Low they laid the Pride of War,</div> - <div class="i1">Soldiers sternly round him mourned:</div> - <div class="i0">"Glorious was our battle-star,</div> - <div class="i1">Glorious when the battle burned."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Loudly crashed the fierce farewell—</div> - <div class="i1"><em>This</em> of all his toil the crown:</div> - <div class="i0">Falling where his country fell,</div> - <div class="i1">Falling by the fallen town.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Turning from the warrior's side,</div> - <div class="i1">Spake a chieftain often proved:</div> - <div class="i0">"Nobly for our land he died,</div> - <div class="i1">Nobly for the land he loved."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">A. R.</div> - <div class="i9"><em>Exeter Coll.</em>, Oxford.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1865 (J. and G. Shrimpton, Oxford).</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">H<span class="smcapa">OME</span> they brought her husband—"tight,"</div> - <div class="i1">She nor moved, nor uttered cry,</div> - <div class="i0">But the Peeler, winking said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Won't he get it by-and-bye."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then they placed him on the bed,</div> - <div class="i1">Called him "Jolly dog," "old boy!"</div> - <div class="i0">Placed the pillows 'neath his head—</div> - <div class="i1">Yet she showed nor grief, nor joy.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Stole her daughter from her seat</div> - <div class="i1">Up to where her father slept,</div> - <div class="i0">Pulled the boots from off his feet,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet she neither moved nor wept.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then the "Bobby" took his purse,</div> - <div class="i1">Placed it empty on her knee,</div> - <div class="i0">Rose her voice as if to curse—</div> - <div class="i1">"Not one sixpence left for me!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Vagrant Leaves</em>, Part I, October, 1866. (A clever little -illustrated magazine, of which only three numbers were -issued; they are now exceedingly scarce).</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Home the "worrier" comes! We read</div> - <div class="i1">All his words, nor uttered sigh;</div> - <div class="i0">But the Tories, sneering, said,</div> - <div class="i1">"He must talk or he would die."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then we praised his speeches long,</div> - <div class="i1">Called them worthy to be heard—</div> - <div class="i0">Brilliant thoughts and language strong;</div> - <div class="i1">Still the Tories cried, "Absurd!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Stole Lord Random from his place,</div> - <div class="i1">Lightly to the "worrier" stept;</div> - <div class="i0">Tried to fool him to his face—</div> - <div class="i1">Back into his hole he crept.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Came a host of stupid peers,</div> - <div class="i1">Swore the franchise should not be;</div> - <div class="i0">Like rolling thunder rose our cheers—</div> - <div class="i1">Grand Old Man, success to thee!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">A<span class="smcapa">LFRED</span> C. B<span class="smcapa">RANT</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>The Weekly Dispatch</em>, September 14, 1884.<br /> -(Parody Competition).</p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<p>"The Charge of the Light Brigade" is still -one of the most popular of Tennyson's poems, -in spite of its many faults, and defective construction. -Some of its lines are, indeed, ridiculous, -whilst many are ungrammatical, but the -metre is pleasing, and the words have the ring -of the battle about them. Tennyson, however, can -claim no credit for these merits, having boldly -appropriated them from Michael Drayton's poem -on the Battle of Agincourt, in which the following -lines occur:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0a">"They now to fight are gone,</div> - <div class="i0">Armour on armour shone:</div> - <div class="i0">Drum now to drum did groan;</div> - <div class="i1">To hear was to wonder;</div> - <div class="i0">That with the cries they make,</div> - <div class="i0">The very earth did shake,</div> - <div class="i0">Trumpet to trumpet spake,</div> - <div class="i1">Thunder to thunder."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Several parodies of "The Charge of the Light -Brigade" remain to be quoted, in addition to -those already given; indeed, this poem appears -to possess a peculiar attraction for imitators.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The following parody was written on the -occasion of a lecture on "Light" having been -given in Horncastle by the late Dr. H. G. -Ward:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> "L<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span>" C<span class="smcapa">AVALIER'S</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With half a score,</div> - <div class="i1">Half a score,</div> - <div class="i1">Half a score rings bedight,</div> - <div class="i1">Through the great lecture room</div> - <div class="i1">Staggered Professor Light.</div> - <div class="i1">He had been asked to speak</div> - <div class="i1">Fifth of December bleak,</div> - <div class="i1">Could he deny his squeak?</div> - <div class="i1">Had he not heaps of cheek?</div> - <div class="i2">As on the dais</div> - <div class="i1">Swaggered Professor Light.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Kinsfolk to right of him,</div> - <div class="i1">Kinsfolk to left of him</div> - <div class="i1">"Buttons" in front of him,</div> - <div class="i2">Listened and wondered!</div> - <div class="i0">Conceited without a doubt,</div> - <div class="i0">Sing-song he brought it out,</div> - <div class="i0">Had he not learnt to spout,</div> - <div class="i0">Rolling his eyes about,</div> - <div class="i1">Amongst the two hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Was not the lecture good,</div> - <div class="i0">His for great minds the food!</div> - <div class="i0">See how erect he stood.</div> - <div class="i0">Teaching his Townsmen,</div> - <div class="i1">Whilst Horncastle wondered!</div> - <div class="i0">Surrounded by Kith and Kin,</div> - <div class="i0">Did he not give it in?</div> - <div class="i0">"Light" was the very thing</div> - <div class="i0">Whereon our faith to pin.</div> - <div class="i1">Misled by Forbes Winslow,</div> - <div class="i0">The Doctor who blundered—</div> - <div class="i0">Then he sat down amid</div> - <div class="i1">Cheers from two hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Kinsfolk to right of him,</div> - <div class="i0">Kinsfolk to left of him,</div> - <div class="i0">No one behind him</div> - <div class="i1">Listened and wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Other orbs, great and small,</div> - <div class="i0">Took fresh light, one and all,</div> - <div class="i0">In the great lecture hall</div> - <div class="i1">From Light's special envoy.</div> - <div class="i0">These were but few, indeed,</div> - <div class="i1">Of the two hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Honour Professor bold,</div> - <div class="i0">Long shall the tale be told;</div> - <div class="i0">Aye, when our babes be old,</div> - <div class="i1">How he enlightened us!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> C<span class="smcapa">OURT</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">H<span class="smcapa">ALF</span> a yard—half a yard—</div> - <div class="i1">Half a yard onward,</div> - <div class="i0">Through the first crush-room</div> - <div class="i1">Pressed the Four Hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Forward—the Fair Brigade!</div> - <div class="i1">On to the Throne, they said:</div> - <div class="i0">On to the Presence Room</div> - <div class="i1">Crushed the Four Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Forward, the Fair Brigade!</div> - <div class="i0">Was there a girl dismayed?</div> - <div class="i0">E'en though the chaperons knew</div> - <div class="i1">Some one had blundered.</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs not to make complaint,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs not to sink or faint,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs—but words cannot paint</div> - <div class="i0">Half the discomfiture</div> - <div class="i1">Of the Four Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Crowds on the right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Crowds on the left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Crowds all in front of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Stumbled and blundered:</div> - <div class="i0">On through the courtier-lined</div> - <div class="i0">Rooms—most tremendous grind—</div> - <div class="i0">Into the Presence-Room,</div> - <div class="i0">Leaving their friends behind,</div> - <div class="i1">Passed the Four Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flushed all their faces fair,</div> - <div class="i0">Flashed all their jewels rare,</div> - <div class="i0">Scratched all their shoulders bare,</div> - <div class="i0">Thrusting each other—while</div> - <div class="i1">Outsiders wondered:</div> - <div class="i0">Into the Presence Room,</div> - <div class="i0">Taking their turn they come,—</div> - <div class="i0">Some looking very glum</div> - <div class="i1">O'er trains sore-sundered:—</div> - <div class="i0">Kiss hand, and outwards back,</div> - <div class="i1">Fagged, the Four Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Crowds to the right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Crowds on the left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Crowds all in front of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Stumbled and blundered—</div> - <div class="i0">Back through more courtier-lined</div> - <div class="i0">Rooms—O, tremendous grind!—</div> - <div class="i0"><em>Débutantes</em> thirsty pined</div> - <div class="i0">For ice or cup o' tea:</div> - <div class="i0">No sofas horse-hair lined,</div> - <div class="i0">Not a chair or settee,</div> - <div class="i0">Poor dear Four Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Mothers to rage gave vent,</div> - <div class="i0">Husbands for broughams sent,</div> - <div class="i0">While at mismanagement</div> - <div class="i1">Both sorely wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Not till the sun had set,</div> - <div class="i0">Not till the lamps were lit,</div> - <div class="i0">Home from the Drawing Room</div> - <div class="i1">Got the Four Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Some, I heard, in despair</div> - <div class="i0">Of getting stool or chair,</div> - <div class="i0">Took to the floor, and there</div> - <div class="i1">Sat down and wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Now, my Lord Chamberlain,</div> - <div class="i0">Take my advice. Again</div> - <div class="i0">When there's a Drawing-room,</div> - <div class="i0">Shut doors, and don't let in</div> - <div class="i1">More than Two Hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, May 30, 1874.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ATTLE OF</span> B<span class="smcapa">ARTLEMY'S</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Snowballs to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Snowballs to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Snowballs in front of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Shattered and sundered.</div> - <div class="i0">"Forward the Blue Brigade!</div> - <div class="i0">Run 'em in! Who's afraid?"</div> - <div class="i0">Less easy done than said:</div> - <div class="i0">Not in the least dismayed,</div> - <div class="i0">Every bold student stayed,</div> - <div class="i0">And at the Blue Brigade</div> - <div class="i1">Volleyed and thundered.</div> - <div class="i0">Flashed every truncheon bare,</div> - <div class="i0">Helmets were tossed in air,</div> - <div class="i0">Robert gets quite a scare,</div> - <div class="i0">While every student there</div> - <div class="i1">Hooted and pelted.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="i1">* * * *</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Stormed at with jeer and yell,</div> - <div class="i0">Truncheon and helmet fell,</div> - <div class="i0">Back rushed they all, pell mell,—</div> - <div class="i1">How the force wondered;</div> - <div class="i0">Many a pretty maid,</div> - <div class="i0">Down in the area shade,</div> - <div class="i0">Weeps for her Bob betrayed,</div> - <div class="i0">Weeps for her Blue Brigade,</div> - <div class="i1">Knowing they blundered.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6"><em>Funny Folks</em>, December 25, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">HARGE OF THE</span> L<span class="smcapa">IGHT</span> B<span class="smcapa">RIGADE</span>.<br /> - -(No. 2.)</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>At the Alexandra Palace Banquet, given to the survivors -of the Baltic of Balaclava, on October</em> 25, 1875).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">P<span class="smcapa">AYING</span> sight! Left and right,</div> - <div class="i0">Crowds pressing onward,—</div> - <div class="i0">Sharp Alexandra Board</div> - <div class="i0">Dines the Two Hundred!</div> - <div class="i0">"Free passes grant them all!"</div> - <div class="i0">Veterans, short and tall—</div> - <div class="i0">Sharp Alexandra Board—</div> - <div class="i0">(Profits will not be small)—</div> - <div class="i0">Dines the Two Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Go it, the Light Brigade!"</div> - <div class="i0">Toast-Master, sore dismayed,</div> - <div class="i0">Queered by those heroes' chaff,</div> - <div class="i0">Boggled and blundered.</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs not to speechify,</div> - <div class="i0">Still less to make reply;</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs but to drain all dry,—</div> - <div class="i0">Into the drinkables</div> - <div class="i0">Walked the Two Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Bottles to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Bottles to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Bottles in front of them,</div> - <div class="i0">While the band thundered;</div> - <div class="i0">They knew no "Captain Cork"—</div> - <div class="i0">Boldly they went to work,</div> - <div class="i0">After the eatables</div> - <div class="i0">Fell to their knife and fork,—</div> - <div class="i0">Thirsty Two Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0"><em>À La Russe</em> might surprise,</div> - <div class="i0">Still they knew joints and pies,</div> - <div class="i0">Clearing the dishes there,</div> - <div class="i0"><em>Relevés</em> and <em>entrées</em>, while</div> - <div class="i0">Scared waiters wondered;</div> - <div class="i0">Then, plunged in 'bacca smoke,</div> - <div class="i0">Glasses and pipes they broke—</div> - <div class="i0">Comrades long sundered,</div> - <div class="i0">Big with old lark and joke,</div> - <div class="i0">Gleefully met again—</div> - <div class="i0">Jolly Two Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trophies to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Trophies to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">ARDIGAN'S</span> charger's head,</div> - <div class="i0">Piously sundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Back they reeled, from the spread,</div> - <div class="i0">Straight as they could, to bed—</div> - <div class="i0">They that had dined so well—</div> - <div class="i0">Nothing to pay per head—</div> - <div class="i0">Happy Two Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> - <div class="i0">When shall their glory fade?</div> - <div class="i0">O, what a meal they made!</div> - <div class="i0">Cockneydom wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Honour the Charge they made—</div> - <div class="i0">Bravo the Light Brigade!</div> - <div class="i0">Hearty Two Hundred!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6"><em>Punch</em>, November 6, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">N THE</span> R<span class="smcapa">INK</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">H<span class="smcapa">ALF</span> a mile, half a mile,</div> - <div class="i1">Half a mile onward,</div> - <div class="i0">On to the skating rink</div> - <div class="i1">Came the fair trio.</div> - <div class="i0">"Skates for the fair trio,</div> - <div class="i1">Oil them well before they go,"</div> - <div class="i2">Over the smooth rink</div> - <div class="i2">Slide the fair trio.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Forward the fair trio!</div> - <div class="i0">Was a false step made? No!</div> - <div class="i0">Not tho' they all knew</div> - <div class="i1">Some one had tumbled.</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs but to give a sigh,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs but to let him lie,</div> - <div class="i0">Theirs but to pass him by,</div> - <div class="i1">Away o'er the rink</div> - <div class="i1">Glide the fair trio.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Admirers to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Admirers to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Admirers in front of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Wonder'd and wonder'd.</div> - <div class="i0">"Outside edge," and never fell,</div> - <div class="i0">Boldly they skate and well,</div> - <div class="i0">"Treble threes and Q.'s."</div> - <div class="i0">Any step you choose,—</div> - <div class="i1">Over the smooth rink</div> - <div class="i1">Glide the fair trio.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Flash'd all their eyes so bright,</div> - <div class="i0">Flash'd as they turned in air,</div> - <div class="i0">Wounding every fellow there,</div> - <div class="i0">With a glance to left and right,</div> - <div class="i1">Other girls envying.</div> - <div class="i0">"Waltzing" and "Mercury stroke,"</div> - <div class="i0">Straight through the line they broke,</div> - <div class="i1">Whirling and twirling,</div> - <div class="i0">Light as the fairy folk,</div> - <div class="i1">Twisting and turning,—</div> - <div class="i0">Then they skate back, but not,</div> - <div class="i1">Not alone the fair trio.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Admirers to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Admirers to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Admirers on all sides of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Wonder'd and wonder'd.</div> - <div class="i0">Refreshed with coffee and tea,</div> - <div class="i0">Sweet cake, but no "Cherry B."</div> - <div class="i0">They whom none excel,</div> - <div class="i0">They who deserve so well,</div> - <div class="i0">They who no scandal tell,</div> - <div class="i1">Away o'er the rink</div> - <div class="i1">Glide the fair trio.</div> - <div class="i0">"When can their beauty fade?"</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! the grand show they made,</div> - <div class="i1">All the rink wonder'd;</div> - <div class="i0">Applaud all the skill displayed,</div> - <div class="i1">Admire the fair trio,</div> - <div class="i1">Charming fair trio.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>The Figaro</em>, April 10, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>H<span class="smcapa">OW A</span> H<span class="smcapa">UNDRED</span> G<span class="smcapa">UESTS</span> M<span class="smcapa">ET</span> T<span class="smcapa">HEIR</span> D<span class="smcapa">EATH</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote><p>"There seems to be hardly a single ailment not traceable -to the poulterer or butcher."—<em>Daily Paper.</em></p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"H<span class="smcapa">ALF</span> a duck, half a duck,</div> - <div class="i1">Guests do not shirk ye;</div> - <div class="i0">Eat, 'tis the Christmas luck,</div> - <div class="i1">Eat a whole turkey!"</div> - <div class="i0">Little thought they of pain,</div> - <div class="i0">Killed they the plate again,</div> - <div class="i0">Why would ye not refrain?</div> - <div class="i1">On to death, onward!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Death was to right of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Death was to left of them,</div> - <div class="i0">Death right in front of them,</div> - <div class="i1">Death in that conger!</div> - <div class="i0">Long did they feast, and well,</div> - <div class="i0"><em>How</em> long I cannot tell,</div> - <div class="i0">Till they began to yell,</div> - <div class="i1">"Cannot eat longer!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ate they the tables bare,</div> - <div class="i0">Swept they the platter clear,</div> - <div class="i1">While the host wondered.</div> - <div class="i0">Wrapped in the pudding's smoke,</div> - <div class="i0">Right through its midst they broke,</div> - <div class="i1">Mince pies were sundered!</div> - <div class="i0">Then sank they back; but not—</div> - <div class="i1">Not the same hundred.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Judy</em>, January 16, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>A W<span class="smcapa">ELCOME TO</span> A<span class="smcapa">LEXANDRA.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>As the Laureate might have adapted it to the opening -of the Alexandra Palace</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Muswellian Palace far over the lea,</div> - <div class="i10">A<span class="smcapa">LEXANDRA</span>!</div> - <div class="i0">Eastern and Western and South are we,</div> - <div class="i0">But all of us North in our welcome of thee,</div> - <div class="i10">A<span class="smcapa">LEXANDRA</span>!</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome it, <em>Times</em> and <em>Telegraph</em> fleet;</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome it, <em>Echo</em>, that sells in the street;</div> - <div class="i0">Break, <em>Daily News</em>, into rhetoric's flower;</div> - <div class="i0">Make "copy," O <em>Standard</em>, and new budded <em>Hour!</em></div> - <div class="i0">Blazon advertisements, concert and play,</div> - <div class="i0">Ballet, with Lancers, sportive and gay;</div> - <div class="i0">Bertram and Roberts, famed for supply,</div> - <div class="i0">Cut from the joint, or savoury pie,</div> - <div class="i0">Ices and jellies and nourishing things;</div> - <div class="i0">Speckman's wonderful Hall of the Kings;</div> - <div class="i0">Warble, O bugle, and trumpet blare,</div> - <div class="i0">Flags flutter out upon turrets and towers,</div> - <div class="i0">Clash, ye bells, in the rainy May air—</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome, welcome, this Palace of ours!</div> - <div class="i0">Palace of corridor, vestibule, hall,</div> - <div class="i0">Lofty in roofing, with pillars so tall,</div> - <div class="i0">Meet for dining and dancing; and, O!</div> - <div class="i0">Fireworks—the brightest that mortal may know;</div> - <div class="i0">Reach to the roof sudden rocket, and higher,</div> - <div class="i0">Melt into stars for the crowd's desire;</div> - <div class="i0">Flash, ye rockets, in showers of fire,</div> - <div class="i0">Flaming comets shoot swift on the wire—</div> - <div class="i0">Welcome it, welcome it, land and sea;</div> - <div class="i0">O joy to the populace yet unknown,</div> - <div class="i0">We come to thee, love, and make thee our own—</div> - <div class="i0">For Camden, Camberwell, Bloomsburee,</div> - <div class="i0">Highgate, Belgravia, or Battersea,</div> - <div class="i0">We are all of us Muswell in welcome of thee,</div> - <div class="i10">A<span class="smcapa">LEXANDRA</span>!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Funny Folks</em>, May 15, 1875.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="center">After Tennyson's</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">"Flower in the Crannied Wall."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">ERRIER</span> in my Granny's hall,</div> - <div class="i0">I whistle you out of my Granny's;</div> - <div class="i0">Hold you here, tail and all, in my hand,</div> - <div class="i0">Little terrier: but if I could understand</div> - <div class="i0">What you are, tail and all, and all in all,</div> - <div class="i0">I should know what "black and tan" is.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i18">C.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<blockquote><p><em>Kottabos</em>, Dublin, 1870.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<p>There have been numerous imitations of <em>In -Memoriam</em>, and Mr. William Dobson, in his -"Poetical Ingenuities," speaking of parodies, -observes:—"One appeared in <em>Punch</em> a number -of years ago, called 'Ozokerit,' a travesty of -Tennyson's 'In Memoriam,' which has been -considered one of the finest ever written." It -is unquestionably very clever. Singularly enough -it did not appear in the body of <em>Punch</em> at all, but -on the outside wrapper, as an advertisement, -so that many people who have bound sets of -<em>Punch</em> will not find the parody, which was as -follows:—</p> - - -<h3>O<span class="smcapa">ZOKERIT.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(By A. T., or some one who writes as well as <em>he</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wild whispers on the air did flit,</div> - <div class="i1">Wild whispers, shaped to mystic hints,</div> - <div class="i1">When bright in breadths of public prints</div> - <div class="i0">Shone that great name "Ozokerit."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And much the people marvelled when</div> - <div class="i1">That embryon thing should leap to view!</div> - <div class="i1">And "what is it," and "whereunto?"</div> - <div class="i0">Rang frequent in the mouths of men.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"This babbler! is he not to blame?</div> - <div class="i1">Or will he, in the cycled course</div> - <div class="i1">Of Time, with circumstance and force</div> - <div class="i0">Invest this nothing of a name?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And one his thought would thus declare,</div> - <div class="i1">"Our fooling makes this fellow blithe,</div> - <div class="i1">He joys to see conjecture writhe</div> - <div class="i0">And flutter in the wordy snare."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thereat one wiselier—"Watch and see</div> - <div class="i1">(When Time be ripe, which now is rathe)</div> - <div class="i1">His Titan-touch unfold the swathe</div> - <div class="i0">That darkly wraps the great 'To be.'"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Shine forth yet undiscovered star!</div> - <div class="i1">Shed largess of all precious balms!</div> - <div class="i1">We dimly grope with vacant palms</div> - <div class="i0">And wondering wait thy Avatar.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thou cam'st by Prejudice withstood</div> - <div class="i1">In vain, and lulling doubt to sleep:</div> - <div class="i1">But one—yet two in one—the cheap</div> - <div class="i0">Divinely wedded to the good.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A thing of beauty, form combined</div> - <div class="i1">With soul phlogistic, sent to cloy</div> - <div class="i1">Our Æon, with Promethean joy:—</div> - <div class="i0">A joy from central darkness mined.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Of regions haunted by the Hun;</div> - <div class="i1">Thence baled with cost of countless gold</div> - <div class="i1">To Lambeth's marish, and in mould</div> - <div class="i0">Of seeming-waxen tapers run:</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Whose radiance is as that of moons</div> - <div class="i1">Innumerous, making day of night;</div> - <div class="i1">With most intensity of light,</div> - <div class="i0">Emblazing fashion's gay saloons.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When sound of midnight morrice rings</div> - <div class="i1">On floor and roof, and all is noise,</div> - <div class="i1">Of jubilant Ophicleids, hautboys,</div> - <div class="i0">Clear twanging harp, and fiddle strings.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And shapes of silver-bosomed girls,</div> - <div class="i1">In bacchant revel wheeling, trace</div> - <div class="i1">The waltz with sweet disordered grace</div> - <div class="i0">Of twinkling feet and flashing curls.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>I<span class="smcapa">N</span> M<span class="smcapa">EMORIAM</span> T<span class="smcapa">ECHNICAM</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I count it true which sages teach—</div> - <div class="i1">That passion sways not with repose,</div> - <div class="i1">That love, confounding these with those,</div> - <div class="i0">Is ever welding each with each.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And so when time has ebbed away,</div> - <div class="i1">Like childish wreaths too lightly held,</div> - <div class="i1">The song of immemorial eld</div> - <div class="i0">Shall moan about the belted bay,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Where slant Orion slopes his star,</div> - <div class="i1">To swelter in the rolling seas,</div> - <div class="i1">Till slowly widening by degrees,</div> - <div class="i0">The grey climbs upward from afar,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And golden youth and passion stray</div> - <div class="i1">Along the ridges of the strand—</div> - <div class="i1">Not far apart, but hand in hand—</div> - <div class="i0">With all the darkness danced away!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Vere Vereker's Vengeance.</em> By Thomas Hood, the younger, -1865.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A N<span class="smcapa">EW</span> C<span class="smcapa">HRISTMAS</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(Adapted to the Times from In Memoriam).</p> - -<p class="center"><em>Apropos of the wet winter of</em> 1872.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">RING</span> out the clouds in that damp sky,</div> - <div class="i1">Which all this year so drear have made,</div> - <div class="i1">If, for the weather's clerk, her trade</div> - <div class="i0">A weather-washerwoman ply.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wring out the old, wring in the new,</div> - <div class="i1">Wring, weather-washerwoman, so,</div> - <div class="i1">That wet shod if the Old Year must go</div> - <div class="i0">The New may damps and dumps eschew.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wring out the wet that stands in clay,</div> - <div class="i1">Rots the potatoes in their bed,</div> - <div class="i1">Fingers and toes gives swedes instead</div> - <div class="i0">Of bellies in the usual way.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wring out my mouchoir, damp with flow</div> - <div class="i1">Of constant cold through warp and woof,</div> - <div class="i1">Bring in a patent waterproof,</div> - <div class="i0">Through whose seams raindrops will not go.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Wring out the shirts, wring out the skin,</div> - <div class="i1">To which I've been wet many times;</div> - <div class="i1">Ring out the raindrops' pattering chimes,</div> - <div class="i0">And bring some drier weather in!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, December 28, 1872.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>A N<span class="smcapa">EW</span> R<span class="smcapa">ING.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ring out, glad bells! with clappers strong;</div> - <div class="i1">Ring out the year that dies to-night!</div> - <div class="i1">Ring in the new year with the light!</div> - <div class="i0">Ring in the right, ring out the wrong.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ring out the squabbles at the Zoo!</div> - <div class="i1">Ring opera boxes in my reach,</div> - <div class="i1">And "natives" at a penny each!</div> - <div class="i0">Ring out Ward Hunt, whate'er you do.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ring out the tax collector's knocks—</div> - <div class="i1">The Hebrew usurer—the dun!</div> - <div class="i1">Ring coals in at a pound a ton,</div> - <div class="i0">Ring out the women's "tie-back" frocks!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ring out th' oppressors of the poor—</div> - <div class="i1">The rinderpest and Ouida's books!</div> - <div class="i1">Ring in some housemaids and some cooks,</div> - <div class="i0">Ring out the Reverend Edward Moore.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ring out all rates without delay!</div> - <div class="i1">Ring in the Law Courts, if you can!</div> - <div class="i1">Ring out, ring out, the <em>Englishman!</em></div> - <div class="i0">Ring out Kenealy, right away!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3"><em>O. P. Q. P. Smiff</em>, in <em>The Figaro</em>, January 5, 1876.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">OMING</span> M<span class="smcapa">ANNIKIN</span>.</h3> - -<p>Mr. Punch, having heard that many Conservatives looked -upon Lord Randolph Churchill as the "Coming Man" of -their party, expressed himself as follows:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ring out fools'-bells to limbo's dome,</div> - <div class="i1">Which copes the neo-Tory clique!</div> - <div class="i1">The man is coming whom they seek!</div> - <div class="i0">Ring out fools'-bells, and let him come!</div> - <div class="i0">Ring out the old, ring in the new.</div> - <div class="i1">Ring jangling bells a Bedlam chime;</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis the true <em>Simon Pure</em> this time;</div> - <div class="i0">Ring in the chief of Gnatdom's crew!</div> - </div> <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ring out old pride in race and blood,</div> - <div class="i1">That kept the fierce old fighters right;</div> - <div class="i1">Ring in crude slander and small spite,</div> - <div class="i0">The urchin love of flinging mud.</div> - <div class="i0">Ring out the gentleman! Ring in</div> - <div class="i1">The narrow heart, the rowdy hand.</div> - <div class="i1">Ring out the brave, the wise, the grand!</div> - <div class="i0">Ring in the Coming Mannikin!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Punch</em>, November 19, 1881.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p>The parody of <em>In Memoriam</em>, mentioned on -Page 61 as having appeared in the <em>St. James's -Gazette</em> of June 18, 1881, was written by Mr. -H. D. Traill, and has since been re-published, -by Messrs. Blackwood and Sons, in a volume -entitled <em>Recaptured Rhymes</em>. Parodies of D. G. -Rossetti, A. C. Swinburne, and Robert Browning -are contained in the same volume, and will be -quoted when the works of these authors are -reached.</p> - -<p>Detached portions of Tennyson's <em>Maud</em>, have -frequently been parodied, but the only case in -which any attempt appears to have been made -to imitate all its varying styles, and phases of -thought, occurs in a small volume published in -1859, entitled <em>Rival Rhymes in Honour of Burns</em>.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, the mere trick of imitating the -metre only does not constitute a good parody, -and this one lacks both in interest and humour. -It is, besides, very long. The following are -some of its best verses:—</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">OET'S</span> B<span class="smcapa">IRTH</span>:<br /> - -A M<span class="smcapa">YSTERY.</span><br /> - -<em>By the P—t L—te.</em></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">HATE</span> the dreadful hollow behind the dirty town,</div> - <div class="i0">At the corner of its lips are oozing a foul ferruginous slime,</div> - <div class="i0">Like the toothless tobacco-cramm'd mouth of a hag who enriches the crown</div> - <div class="i0">By consuming th 'excised weed,—parent of smuggling crime!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">'Tis night; the shivering stars, wrapt in their cloud-blankets dreaming,</div> - <div class="i0">Forget to light an old crone, who to cross the hollow would try;</div> - <div class="i0">But watchful Aldebaran, in Taurus's head swift gleaming,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a policeman, to help her, turns on his bull's-eye.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's a hovel of mud, and the crone, mudded and muddled,</div> - <div class="i0">Knocks, and an oxidized hinge creaks a rusty "Come in."</div> - <div class="i0">There are now in the hovel,—a woman in bed-gear huddled,</div> - <div class="i0">A careworn man, and a midwife, her functional fee to win.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Midwives are hard as millstones: Expectant father's emotions</div> - <div class="i0">Are dragg'd by the heart's wild tide, like seashore shingle,</div> - <div class="i0">Shrieking complaint, when the fierce assaults of the ocean</div> - <div class="i0">Beat them all round, without an exception single.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">1. D<span class="smcapa">ARKNESS</span>! Darkness! Darkness!</div> - <div class="i1">Ebon carved idol of wickedness!</div> - <div class="i1">Guilty deeds do love thee,</div> - <div class="i1">Innocent childhood fears thee;</div> - <div class="i1">Therefore these do prove thee</div> - <div class="i1">An unbless'd thing!—Who hears thee,</div> - <div class="i1">Grisly, gaunt, and lonely,—</div> - <div class="i1">Darkness! Darkness! Darkness!</div> - <div class="i1">Thy brother Silence only!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">2. Lightness! Lightness! Lightness!</div> - <div class="i1">Great quality in small things,</div> - <div class="i1">A pudding, above all things!</div> - <div class="i1">Great quality in great things,</div> - <div class="i1">And, not to understate things,</div> - <div class="i1">Thou art the essence of sunshine,</div> - <div class="i1">Lightness! Lightness! Lightness!</div> - <div class="i1">Whose brightness—</div> - <div class="i1">And whiteness—</div> - <div class="i1">Are but lackness</div> - <div class="i1">Of blackness.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> - <div class="i1">Therefore, Darkness! Darkness!</div> - <div class="i1">Ebon-carved idol of wickedness!</div> - <div class="i1">Let those who love you</div> - <div class="i1">And Silence, prove you</div> - <div class="i1">And seek!</div> - <div class="i1">Not I!</div> - <div class="i1">For why?—for why?—for why?</div> - <div class="i1">I'll speak!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Falling is the snow,</div> - <div class="i2">Every frosty flake</div> - <div class="i1">Making the round world</div> - <div class="i2">Like a wedding-cake.</div> - <div class="i1">What is't makes the snow?</div> - <div class="i1">Is it frost? No, no!</div> - <div class="i2">Petals of the rose</div> - <div class="i2">That in the heaven grows,</div> - <div class="i1">Thrown by angels down,</div> - <div class="i2">In Elysian play,</div> - <div class="i2">Make the snow, I say,</div> - <div class="i1">To produce a crown</div> - <div class="i2">For the bridal day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3"><em>Rival Rhymes, in Honour of Burns</em>, 1859.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>M<span class="smcapa">AUD</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcapa">AND OTHER</span> P<span class="smcapa">OEMS.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">By A. T. (D.C.L.)</p> - -<p class="center">S<span class="smcapa">ONG.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">HIRRUP</span>, chirp, chirp, chirp twitter,</div> - <div class="i0">Warble, flutter, and fly away;</div> - <div class="i0">Dicky birds, chickey birds—quick, ye bird,</div> - <div class="i0">Shut it up, cut it up, die away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Maud is going to sing!</div> - <div class="i0">Maud with the voice like lute strings,</div> - <div class="i0">(To which the sole species of string</div> - <div class="i0">I know of that rhymes is boot-strings).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Still, you may stop, if you please;</div> - <div class="i1">Roar as a chorus sonorous,</div> - <div class="i0">Robin, bob in at ease;</div> - <div class="i1">Tom-tit, prompt it for us.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Rose or thistle in, whistlin',</div> - <div class="i1">(What a beast is her brother!)</div> - <div class="i0">Maud has sung from her tongue rung;</div> - <div class="i1">Echo it out,</div> - <div class="i0">From each shoot shout,</div> - <div class="i0">From each root rout—</div> - <div class="i0">"She'll oblige us with another."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h4>Midsummer Madness,</h4> - -<p class="center">A S<span class="smcapa">OLILOQUY.</span></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">I am a hearthrug—</div> - <div class="i6">Yes, a rug—</div> - <div class="i0">Though I cannot describe myself as snug;</div> - <div class="i0">Yet I know that for me they paid a price</div> - <div class="i0">For a Turkey carpet that would suffice</div> - <div class="i0">(But we live in an age of rascal vice).</div> - <div class="i5">Why was I ever woven,</div> - <div class="i0">For a clumsy lout, with a wooden leg,</div> - <div class="i0">To come with his endless Peg! Peg!</div> - <div class="i7">Peg! Peg!</div> - <div class="i6">With a wooden leg,</div> - <div class="i0">Till countless holes I'm drove in.</div> - <div class="i0">("Drove," I have said, and it should be "driven"</div> - <div class="i0">A hearthrug's blunders should be forgiven,</div> - <div class="i0">For wretched scribblers have exercised</div> - <div class="i1">Such endless bosh and clamour,</div> - <div class="i0">So improvidently have improvised,</div> - <div class="i0">That they've utterly ungrammaticised</div> - <div class="i1">Our ungrammatical grammar).</div> - <div class="i5">And the coals</div> - <div class="i6">Burn holes,</div> - <div class="i5">Or make spots like moles,</div> - <div class="i0">And my lily-white tints, as black as your hat turn,</div> - <div class="i0">And the housemaid (a matricide, will-forging slattern),</div> - <div class="i5">Rolls</div> - <div class="i6">The rolls</div> - <div class="i5">From the plate, in shoals,</div> - <div class="i0">When they're put to warm in front of the coals;</div> - <div class="i0">And no one with me condoles,</div> - <div class="i0">For the butter stains on my beautiful pattern.</div> - <div class="i0">But the coals and rolls, and sometimes soles,</div> - <div class="i0">Dropp'd from the frying-pan out of the fire,</div> - <div class="i0">Are nothing to raise my indignant ire,</div> - <div class="i5">Like the Peg! Peg!</div> - <div class="i0">Of that horrible man with the wooden leg.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">This moral spread from me,</div> - <div class="i1">Sing it, ring it, yelp it—</div> - <div class="i0">Never a hearth-rug be,</div> - <div class="i1">That is if you can help it.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>A<span class="smcapa">N</span> E<span class="smcapa">XTRACT</span> (<span class="smcapa">NOT</span>) <span class="smcapa">FROM</span> T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON'S</span> "M<span class="smcapa">AUD</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">B<span class="smcapa">IRDS</span> in St. Stephen's garden,</div> - <div class="i1">Mocking birds, were bawling—</div> - <div class="i0">"Lord, Lord, Lord, John!"</div> - <div class="i1">They were crying and calling.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Where was John? In a fix!</div> - <div class="i1">Gone to Vienna, whither</div> - <div class="i0">They'd sent him out of the way,—</div> - <div class="i1">Tories and Whigs together.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Birds in St. Stephen's sang,</div> - <div class="i1">Chattering, chattering round him—</div> - <div class="i0">"John is here, here, here,</div> - <div class="i1">Back too soon, confound him!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They saw his dirty hands!</div> - <div class="i1">Meekly he bore their punning;</div> - <div class="i0">John<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> is not seventy yet,</div> - <div class="i1">But he's very little and cunning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He to show up himself!</div> - <div class="i1">How can he ever explain it?</div> - <div class="i0">John were certain of place,</div> - <div class="i1">If shuffling could retain it.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Look, a cab at the door,</div> - <div class="i1">Dizzy has snarled for an hour;</div> - <div class="i0">Go back, my Lord, for you're a bore,</div> - <div class="i1">And at last you're out of power.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8"><em>Our Miscellany.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>(Which ought to have come out, but didn't).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>G<span class="smcapa">RANNY'S</span> H<span class="smcapa">OUSE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">OMRADES</span>, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn,</div> - <div class="i0">Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the dinner horn.</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis the place, and all about it, as of old, the rat and mouse</div> - <div class="i0">Very loudly squeak and nibble, running over Granny's house;—</div> - <div class="i0">Granny's house, with all its cupboards, and its rooms as neat as wax,</div> - <div class="i0">And its chairs of wood unpainted, where the old cats rubbed their backs.</div> - <div class="i0">Many a night from yonder garret window, ere I went to rest,</div> - <div class="i0">Did I see the cows and horses come in slowly from the west;</div> - <div class="i0">Many a night I saw the chickens, flying upward through the trees,</div> - <div class="i0">Roosting on the sleety branches, when I thought their feet would freeze;</div> - <div class="i0">Here about the garden wandered, nourishing a youth sublime</div> - <div class="i0">With the beans, and sweet potatoes, and the melons which were prime;</div> - <div class="i0">When the pumpkin-vines behind me with their precious fruit reposed,</div> - <div class="i0">When I clung about the pear-tree, for the promise that it closed.</div> - <div class="i0">When I dipt into the dinner far as human eye could see,</div> - <div class="i0">Saw the vision of the pie, and all the dessert that would be.</div> - <div class="i0">In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast;</div> - <div class="i0">In the spring the noisy pullet gets herself another nest;</div> - <div class="i0">In the spring a livelier spirit makes the ladies' tongues more glib;</div> - <div class="i0">In the spring a young boy's fancy lightly hatches up a fib.</div> - <div class="i0">Then her cheek was plump and fatter than should be for one so old,</div> - <div class="i0">And she eyed my every motion, with a mute intent to scold.</div> - <div class="i0">And I said, "My worthy Granny, now I speak the truth to thee,—</div> - <div class="i0">"Better believe it,—I have eaten all the apples from one tree."</div> - <div class="i0">On her kindling cheek and forehead came a colour and a light,</div> - <div class="i0">As I have seen the rosy red flashing in the northern night;</div> - <div class="i0">And she turned,—her fist was shaken at the coolness of the lie;</div> - <div class="i0">She was mad, and I could see it, by the snapping of her eye,</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do thee wrong,"—</div> - <div class="i0">Saying, "I shall whip you, Sammy, whipping I shall go it strong."</div> - <div class="i0">She took me up, and turned me pretty roughly, when she'd done,</div> - <div class="i0">And every time she shook me, I tried to jerk and run;</div> - <div class="i0">She took off my little coat, and struck again with all her might,</div> - <div class="i0">And before another minute, I was free, and out of sight.</div> - <div class="i0">Many a morning, just to tease her, did I tell her stories yet,</div> - <div class="i0">Though her whisper made me tingle, when she told me what I'd get;</div> - <div class="i0">Many an evening did I see her where the willow sprouts grew thick,</div> - <div class="i0">And I rushed away from Granny at the touching of her stick.</div> - <div class="i0">O my Granny, old and ugly, O my Granny's hateful deeds,</div> - <div class="i0">O the empty, empty garret, O the garden gone to weeds,</div> - <div class="i0">Crosser than all fancy fathoms, crosser than all songs have sung,</div> - <div class="i0">I was puppet to your threat, and servile to your shrewish tongue,</div> - <div class="i0">Is it well to wish thee happy, having seen thy whip decline</div> - <div class="i0">On a boy with lower shoulders, and a narrower back than mine?</div> - <div class="i0">Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the dinner-horn,</div> - <div class="i0">They to whom my Granny's whippings were a target for their scorn;</div> - <div class="i0">Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a mouldered string?</div> - <div class="i0">I am shamed through all my nature to have loved the mean old thing;</div> - <div class="i0">Weakness to be wroth with weakness! woman's pleasure, woman's spite,</div> - <div class="i0">Nature made them quicker motions, a considerable sight.</div> - <div class="i0">Woman is the lesser man, and all thy whippings matched with mine</div> - <div class="i0">Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine.</div> - <div class="i0">Here at least when I was little, something, O, for some retreat</div> - <div class="i0">Deep in yonder crowded city where my life began to beat,</div> - <div class="i0">Where one winter fell my father, slipping off a keg of lard,</div> - <div class="i0">I was left a trampled orphan, and my case was pretty hard.</div> - <div class="i0">Or to burst all links of habit, and to wander far and fleet,</div> - <div class="i0">On from farm-house unto farm-house till I found my Uncle Pete,</div> - <div class="i0">Larger sheds and barns, and newer, and a better neighbourhood,</div> - <div class="i0">Greater breadth of field and woodlands, and an orchard just as good.</div> - <div class="i0">Never comes my Granny, never cuts her willow switches there;</div> - <div class="i0">Boys are safe at Uncle Peter's, I'll bet you what you dare.</div> - <div class="i0">Hangs the heavy-fruited pear-tree: you may eat just what you like.</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis a sort of little Eden, about two miles off the pike.</div> - <div class="i0">There, methinks, would be enjoyment, more than being quite so near</div> - <div class="i0">To the place where even in manhood I almost shake with fear.</div> - <div class="i0">There the passions, cramped no longer, shall have scope and breathing space.</div> - <div class="i0">I will 'scape that savage woman; she shall never rear my race;</div> - <div class="i0">Iron-jointed, supple-sinewed, they shall dive and they shall run;</div> - <div class="i0">She has caught me like a wild-goat, but she shall not catch my son.</div> - <div class="i0">He shall whistle to the dog, and get the books from off the shelf,</div> - <div class="i0">Not, with blinded eyesight, cutting ugly whips to whip himself.</div> - <div class="i0">Fool again, the dream of fancy! no, I don't believe it's bliss,</div> - <div class="i0">But I'm certain Uncle Peter's is a better place than this.</div> - <div class="i0">Let them herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of all glorious gains,</div> - <div class="i0">Like the horses in the stables, like the sheep that crop the lanes;</div> - <div class="i0">Let them mate with dirty cousins—what to me were style or rank,</div> - <div class="i0">I the heir of twenty acres, and some money in the bank?</div> - <div class="i0">Not in vain the distance beckons, forward let us urge our load,</div> - <div class="i0">Let our cart-wheels spin till sundown, ringing down the grooves of road;</div> - <div class="i0">Through the white dust of the turnpike she can't see to give us chase:</div> - <div class="i0">Better seven years at Uncle's than fourteen at Granny's place.</div> - <div class="i0">O, I see the blessed promise of my spirit hath not set!</div> - <div class="i0">If we once get in the wagon, we will circumvent her yet.</div> - <div class="i0">Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Granny's farm;</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Not for me she'll cut the willows, not at me she'll shake her arm.</div> - <div class="i0">Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over heath and holt,</div> - <div class="i0">Cramming all the blast before it,—guess it holds a thunderbolt:</div> - <div class="i0">Wish't would fall on Granny's house, with rain, or hail, or fire, or snow,</div> - <div class="i0">Let me get my horses started Uncle Pete-ward, and I'll go.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6"><em>Poems and Parodies</em>, by Phœbe Carey.</div> - <div class="i8">Boston, United States, 1854.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">QUATTER'S</span> 'B<span class="smcapa">ACCY</span> F<span class="smcapa">AMINE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I<span class="smcapa">N</span> blackest gloom he cursed his lot;</div> - <div class="i1">His breath was one long, weary sigh;</div> - <div class="i0">His brows were gathered in a knot</div> - <div class="i1">That only baccy could untie.</div> - <div class="i0">His oldest pipe was scraped out clean;</div> - <div class="i1">The deuce a puff was left him there;</div> - <div class="i1">A hollow sucking sound of air</div> - <div class="i0">Was all he got his lips between.</div> - <div class="i4">He only said, "My life is dreary,</div> - <div class="i5">The Baccy's done," he said,</div> - <div class="i4">He said, "I am aweary, aweary;</div> - <div class="i5">By Jove, I'm nearly dead."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The chimney-piece he searched in vain,</div> - <div class="i1">Into each pocket plunged his fist;</div> - <div class="i0">His cheek was blanched with weary pain,</div> - <div class="i1">His mouth awry for want of twist.</div> - <div class="i0">He idled with his baccy knife;</div> - <div class="i1">He had no care for daily bread:—</div> - <div class="i1">A single stick of Negro-head</div> - <div class="i0">Would be to him the staff of life.</div> - <div class="i4">He only said, "My life is dreary.</div> - <div class="i5">The Baccy's done," he said.</div> - <div class="i4">He said, "I am aweary, aweary;</div> - <div class="i5">I'd most as soon be dead."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Books had no power to mend his grief;</div> - <div class="i1">The magazines could tempt no more;</div> - <div class="i0">"Cut gold-leaf" was the only leaf</div> - <div class="i1">That he had cared to ponder o'er.</div> - <div class="i0">From chair to sofa sad he swings,</div> - <div class="i1">And then from sofa back to chair;</div> - <div class="i1">But in the depths of his despair</div> - <div class="i0">Can catch no "bird's-eye" view of things.</div> - <div class="i4">And still he said, "My life is dreary.</div> - <div class="i5">No Baccy, boys," he said.</div> - <div class="i4">He said, "I am aweary, aweary;</div> - <div class="i5">I'd just as soon be dead."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">His meals go by, he knows not how;</div> - <div class="i1">No taste in flesh, or fowl, or fish;</div> - <div class="i0">There's not a dish could tempt him now,</div> - <div class="i1">Except a cake of Caven-dish.</div> - <div class="i0">His life is but a weary drag;</div> - <div class="i1">He cannot choose but curse and swear,</div> - <div class="i1">And thrust his fingers through his hair,</div> - <div class="i0">All shaggy in the want of shag.</div> - <div class="i4">And still he said, "My life is dreary.</div> - <div class="i5">No Baccy, boys," he said.</div> - <div class="i4">He said, "I am aweary, aweary;</div> - <div class="i5">I'd rather far be dead."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To him one end of old cheroot</div> - <div class="i1">Were sweetest root that ever grew.</div> - <div class="i0">No honey were due substitute</div> - <div class="i1">For "Our Superior Honey-Dew."</div> - <div class="i0">One little fig of Latakia</div> - <div class="i1">Would buy all fruits of Paradise;</div> - <div class="i1">"Prince Alfred's Mixture" fetch a price</div> - <div class="i0">Above both Prince and Galatea.</div> - <div class="i4">Sudden he said, "No more be dreary!</div> - <div class="i5">The dray has come!" he said.</div> - <div class="i4">He said, "I'll smoke till I am weary,—</div> - <div class="i5">And then I'll go to bed."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<blockquote><p><em>Miscellaneous Poems</em>, by J. Brunton. Stephens. -(Macmillan and Co., London), 1880.</p></blockquote> - -<p>This book contains several other amusing -parodies of the poems of Swinburne, E. A. Poe, -and Coleridge, which will be quoted in future -parts of the collection. They all relate to Colonial -life, and are now difficult to meet with, as all -the unsold copies of the book have been returned -to the author, who resides in Australia.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> V<span class="smcapa">OICE AND THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">IQUE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(Amended Edition, by the P— L—.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> Voice and the Pique!</div> - <div class="i1">It was once a beautiful Voice</div> - <div class="i0">From a girl with roseate cheek,</div> - <div class="i1">Who made my heart rejoice.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But the Voice—or the girl—ah, which?</div> - <div class="i1">Against me took a Pique,</div> - <div class="i0">Because I was not so rich</div> - <div class="i1">As she thought—and the voice grew a squeak.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Hast thou no voice, O Pique?</div> - <div class="i1">Thou hast, uncommonly shrill:</div> - <div class="i0">And I know that a Maiden meek</div> - <div class="i1">May grow to a wife with a will.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Ah, misery comes, and miscarriage,</div> - <div class="i1">To all who wear fleshly fetters;</div> - <div class="i0">She's made a Capital marriage—</div> - <div class="i1">I mourn in Capital Letters.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, October 17, 1874.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">LAINT OF THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">LUMBER AND</span> B<span class="smcapa">UILDER</span>.</h3> - -<p>(In the case of Dee v. Dalgairns, the plaintiff, a plumber -by trade, sued the defendant Dalgairns, a Civil Engineer, -for the sum of thirty pounds for the erection of a lavatory. -The defendant made a counter claim of one hundred and -twenty pounds, on the ground that the work being improperly -done, sewer gas escaped into the house, and caused -the illness of six members of the household, and the death -of his son. He, therefore, claimed the doctor's bill and -other expenses. The Judge struck out the plaintiff's claim, -and gave judgment for the defendant).</p> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">OLO BY THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">LUMBER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I <span class="smcapa">SCAMP</span> the joints. I scamp the drains.</div> - <div class="i1">I am an artful Plumber;</div> - <div class="i0">You'll feel my hand in winter's rains,</div> - <div class="i1">You'll sniff it in the summer."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> - <div class="i0">"I dig, I delve, I patch, I pry,</div> - <div class="i1">And lay the pipes so badly,</div> - <div class="i0">That even bland Surveyors sigh,</div> - <div class="i1">And tenants chatter madly."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">(<em>Here the Jerry Builder breaks in with his Jeremiad</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I build my floors on rags and bones,</div> - <div class="i1">Or lush organic matter;</div> - <div class="i0">Or where the grass in swampy zones</div> - <div class="i1">Grows greener and grows fatter."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"My doors are sure to warp in time,</div> - <div class="i1">My slates let in the water;</div> - <div class="i0">Take equal parts of dust and slime.</div> - <div class="i1">And there you have my mortar."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I build my wall with many a trick,</div> - <div class="i1">So shrewd as to astound one;</div> - <div class="i0">With here and there a rotten brick,</div> - <div class="i1">And here and there a sound one."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>The Artful Plumber resumes his plaint;</em>—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The sewer-pipe I love to lay,</div> - <div class="i1">Connecting with the cistern;</div> - <div class="i0">And where's the law that dares to say,</div> - <div class="i1">The tenant should have <em>his</em> turn?"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>Finale by the Pair:</em>—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Why, here's a Judge who would restrain</div> - <div class="i1">Our right to scatter fever!</div> - <div class="i0">Should this decision stand, 'tis plain</div> - <div class="i1">We <em>can't</em> scamp on for ever!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15"><em>Punch.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>L<span class="smcapa">IBERAL</span> L<span class="smcapa">YRICS</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Apropos</em> of Mr. Gladstone's visit to Scotland).</p> - -<h3>A L<span class="smcapa">ONG</span> W<span class="smcapa">AY AFTER</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORD</span> T<span class="smcapa">ENNYSON'S</span> "B<span class="smcapa">ROOK</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I'<span class="smcapa">VE</span> spouted o'er the land o' Burns,</div> - <div class="i1">I've made a gushing sally,</div> - <div class="i0">Although I fear, with true Returns,</div> - <div class="i1">My speeches will not tally,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">From town to town I've hurried down,</div> - <div class="i1">I've talked on hills and ridges;</div> - <div class="i0">At railway stations played the clown,</div> - <div class="i1">And gabbled from their bridges.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I've chattered over stony ways.</div> - <div class="i1">I've chattered through the heather,</div> - <div class="i0">I've doused and soused the Rads with praise,</div> - <div class="i1">To keep myself together.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I chatter, chatter, my words flow</div> - <div class="i1">As fast as any river;</div> - <div class="i0">Tho' some men's language may be slow,</div> - <div class="i1">I can talk on for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I wind about, and in and out,</div> - <div class="i1">I bolster up each failing;</div> - <div class="i0">But though I wheedle, brag, and shout,</div> - <div class="i1">There's nothing like plain sailing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! bless me, what a lot of plots</div> - <div class="i1">My tongue elastic covers;</div> - <div class="i0">Though Tories ain't forget-me-nots,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor Rads precisely lovers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The Franchise is my party cry,</div> - <div class="i1">The Lords my latest craze is,</div> - <div class="i0">And till they both are settled—why,</div> - <div class="i1">All things may go to blazes!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Yet, still my eloquence shall flow</div> - <div class="i1">Like some loquacious river;</div> - <div class="i0">For men may come and men may go,</div> - <div class="i1">I gabble on for ever.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>England</em>, September 27, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> T<span class="smcapa">RAIN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">COME</span> from haunts of Smith and Son,</div> - <div class="i1">I agitate the vapours,</div> - <div class="i0">I take in Judy, Punch, and Fun,</div> - <div class="i1">And all the morning Papers;</div> - <div class="i0">And all the magazines besides,</div> - <div class="i1">Since Chambers's began,</div> - <div class="i0">And all varieties of guides,</div> - <div class="i1">And all degrees of man.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I roll away like "thunder live,"</div> - <div class="i1">With half a ship the freight of;</div> - <div class="i0">Six hundred miles a day at five</div> - <div class="i1">Times ten an hour the rate of.</div> - <div class="i0">Twice twenty streets I intersect,</div> - <div class="i1">And flash o'er twenty runnels.</div> - <div class="i0">With many loops the towns connect,</div> - <div class="i1">And vanish in the tunnels.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And out again I curve, and so</div> - <div class="i1">Pursue my destination;</div> - <div class="i0">For men may come and men may go,</div> - <div class="i1">And stop at any station.</div> - <div class="i0">I echo down the mountain pass,</div> - <div class="i1">I pass fine ruins over,</div> - <div class="i0">As light as harebell in the grass,</div> - <div class="i1">Or leveret in the clover.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Like Orpheus the trees I charm,</div> - <div class="i1">And set the hedgerows dancing;</div> - <div class="i0">With here a forest, there a farm</div> - <div class="i1">Retiring and advancing.</div> - <div class="i0">I draw them all along, and thread</div> - <div class="i1">The counties everywhere,</div> - <div class="i0">As men must have their daily bread,</div> - <div class="i1">So I my daily fare.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Chambers' Journal.</em></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Another imitation (and a very long one) of -the same original, appeared in <em>Punch</em>, October 11, -1884, and a parody entitled <em>The Mill</em> was in -<em>Judy</em>, April 26, 1884.</p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>S<span class="smcapa">ONG</span> S<span class="smcapa">UPPOSED TO BE</span> S<span class="smcapa">UNG BY</span> M<span class="smcapa">R</span>. B<span class="smcapa">URNE</span>-J<span class="smcapa">ONES</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Come into my studio Maud,</div> - <div class="i1">If you've chalk'd your face, my own;</div> - <div class="i0">Come into my studio, Maud,</div> - <div class="i1">I am here at the easel alone;</div> - <div class="i0">And the <em>pot-pourri's</em> odour is wafted abroad,</div> - <div class="i1">And the scent of the patchouli blown.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"For I've shut the bright morning out,</div> - <div class="i1">With a saffron yellow blind;</div> - <div class="i0">And I've thrown my brick-dust velvet about,</div> - <div class="i1">And the sage-green curtain untwined;</div> - <div class="i0">So haste, my darling, the sun to flout</div> - <div class="i1">In your rust-red robe enshrined.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"All night, as you may have heard,</div> - <div class="i1">I've toss'd in a <em>fantaisie</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">Whether to paint my dear little bird</div> - <div class="i1">As a 'Nocturne' or 'Symphony;'</div> - <div class="i0">But now I have pass'd my æsthetic word,</div> - <div class="i1">An 'arrangement' you are to be.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> - <div class="i0">"I said to the corpse: 'There is to be one</div> - <div class="i1">Who'll be ghastly as your cold clay;</div> - <div class="i0">Aye, bluer than you before I have done,</div> - <div class="i1">And with hair like glorified hay.'</div> - <div class="i0">Come, Maud, it is time that we had begun,</div> - <div class="i1">So hasten, my love, I pray,</div> - <div class="i0">Or we shan't be able to keep out the sun;</div> - <div class="i1">Don't bismuth yourself all day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I said to our surgeon: 'You often go</div> - <div class="i1">Where women suffer and pine,</div> - <div class="i0">But I bet that a painted face I'll show</div> - <div class="i1">Of a love-sick model of mine,</div> - <div class="i0">That will beat them all for hopeless woe</div> - <div class="i1">And cadaverous design!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"And our surgeon said, 'No doubt you will,</div> - <div class="i1">For the epicene women you paint</div> - <div class="i0">Are bilious ghosts in want of a pill,</div> - <div class="i1">With undoubted strumous taint;</div> - <div class="i0">So hollow-eyed and cheek'd, no skill</div> - <div class="i1">Could save them from feeling faint.'</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Queen Corpse of my graveyard garden of girls,</div> - <div class="i1">Come hither, o'er carpets dun,</div> - <div class="i0">In your rust-red robe and you're soot-black pearls;</div> - <div class="i1">Queen, spectre, and corpse in one!</div> - <div class="i0">Shine out, corpse candles, above her curls,</div> - <div class="i1">And be the picture's sun!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Oh, come! for I've managed to mix</div> - <div class="i1">A charnel-house-ish hue;</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, come! that your lord may fix</div> - <div class="i1">This cholera-morbus blue!</div> - <div class="i0">The patchouli whispers: 'She's near, she's near!'</div> - <div class="i1">And her musk-drops say: ''Tis true!'</div> - <div class="i0">And the creak of her slippers, I hear, I hear,</div> - <div class="i1">They're the colour of liquid glue.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"She is coming, my bilious sweet;</div> - <div class="i1">I can see her tawny head;</div> - <div class="i0">Her footsteps are far from fleet,</div> - <div class="i1">She's tied back till she scarce can tread;</div> - <div class="i0">But yet shall her face yours meet,</div> - <div class="i1">When the months of the winter have fled,</div> - <div class="i0">On the walls of the Grosvenor hung complete</div> - <div class="i1">In dissecting-room blue and red!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Truth</em>, December 26, 1878.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>C<span class="smcapa">OME INTO</span> "T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> G<span class="smcapa">ARDEN</span>," M<span class="smcapa">AUD</span>!</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>A very Ideal Idyl of the (we hope not very remote) -Future.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">C<span class="smcapa">OME</span> into "the Garden," M<span class="smcapa">AUD</span>!</div> - <div class="i1">For the Mudford blight is flown;</div> - <div class="i0">Come into "the Garden," M<span class="smcapa">AUD</span>!</div> - <div class="i1">I am here by the "Hummums" alone;</div> - <div class="i0">No garbage stenches are wafted abroad,</div> - <div class="i1">And the slime from the pavement's gone.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For a breeze of morning blows,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet my hand is not compelled</div> - <div class="i0">To hold up my handkerchief close to my nose,</div> - <div class="i1">As it had to be always held,</div> - <div class="i0">When the shops in the market of old would unclose,</div> - <div class="i1">And the cry of the porters swelled.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">All night have the suburbs heard</div> - <div class="i1">The wheels of the waggons grind;</div> - <div class="i0">All night has the driver, with seldom a word,</div> - <div class="i1">His horses nodded behind;</div> - <div class="i0">And your waggoner is as early a bird</div> - <div class="i1">As in Babylon one may find.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I say to myself, "No, there is not one</div> - <div class="i1">To block up the street and stay</div> - <div class="i0">Till the hum of the City hath well begun."</div> - <div class="i1">I chortle in joyaunce gay.</div> - <div class="i0">"Now half to the Southern suburbs are gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And half to the North. Hooray!</div> - <div class="i0">Low on the wood, and loud on the stone</div> - <div class="i1">The last wheel echoes away."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I say, this <em>is</em> better now, goodness knows,</div> - <div class="i1">Than it was but a short time syne.</div> - <div class="i0">Oho! my Lord Duke, I am glad to suppose</div> - <div class="i1">That much of the credit is thine,</div> - <div class="i0">And that I need not go softly and hold my nose,</div> - <div class="i1">Or feel sick like a man on the brine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No scent of rank refuse goes into my blood</div> - <div class="i1">As I stand in the central hall;</div> - <div class="i0">And long in "the Garden" I've strolled and stood,</div> - <div class="i1">Without feeling qualmish at all.</div> - <div class="i0">And I say, "This is really exceeding good,</div> - <div class="i1">An improvement that's far from small."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">The paths, roads, and gutters are almost sweet,</div> - <div class="i1">And the stodge, like fœtid size,</div> - <div class="i0">That used to impede one, and foul one's feet,</div> - <div class="i1">No longer offends one's eyes.</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis a pleasantish place for two lovers to meet—</div> - <div class="i1">Quite an urban paradise.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So, sweetest, most sensitive-nostril'd of girls,</div> - <div class="i1">Come hither!—the stenches are gone.</div> - <div class="i0">Foul dust blows no more in malodorous whirls,</div> - <div class="i1">No cabbage-leaves rot in the sun,</div> - <div class="i0">Damp-reek from choked gutter won't straighten your curls,</div> - <div class="i1">So come—'twill be really good fun!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, December 16, 1882.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>Punch</em> has long been calling attention to the -disgraceful condition of Covent Garden Market, -but hitherto without the slightest success. The -Duke of Bedford appears to totally ignore the -fact that property has its duties, as well as -its privileges; and it seems probable that even -the simplest remedies and improvements on his -estate will be neglected, until public attention -is drawn to the foul market and its adjacent -slums, by the outbreak of some epidemic.</p> - -<p>There was another parody of "Come into the -Garden, Maud," in <em>Punch</em>, May 23, 1868.</p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - -<h3>A<span class="smcapa">NGLING</span> <span class="smcapa">IN THE</span> R<span class="smcapa">YE</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(A wicked parody on Tennyson's "Old and New Year.")</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">I <span class="smcapa">STOOD</span> by a river in the wet,</div> - <div class="i2">Where trout and grayling often met,</div> - <div class="i2">And waters were rushing and rolling;</div> - <div class="i1">And I said: "O Fish, a dainty dish,</div> - <div class="i1">Is there aught that is worth the trolling?"</div> - <div class="i1">Fishes enough there are rising,</div> - <div class="i1">Nibbles so often cajoling,</div> - <div class="i1">Matter enough for surmising,</div> - <div class="i1">But aught that is worth the trolling?</div> - <div class="i1">Waves at my feet were rolling,</div> - <div class="i1">Winds o'er the Rye were sailing,</div> - <div class="i0">But, alas! for all my trolling</div> - <div class="i0">For wily trout and grayling!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">E. H. R<span class="smcapa">ICHES</span>, L.L.D.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center"><em>College Rhymes</em>, 1868 (T. and G. Shrimpton), Oxford.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> - -<p>The following scientific <em>jeu d'esprit</em> is wafted -to us all the way from San Francisco. Professor -O. C. Marsh, of Yale College, is a champion -of Darwinism. He has, however, few -followers in America, where Agassiz, Dawson, -and other men of science, hold more orthodox -views.</p> - - -<h3>A P<span class="smcapa">ARODY.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(Addressed to Professor O. C. Marsh, by a -Non-uniformitarian.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">B<span class="smcapa">REAK</span>, break, break</div> - <div class="i0">At thy cold, grey stones, O. C.!</div> - <div class="i0">And I would that my tongue could utter</div> - <div class="i0">The thoughts that arise in me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O well for the five-toed horse!</div> - <div class="i0">That his bones are at rest in the clay:</div> - <div class="i0">O well for the ungulate brute!</div> - <div class="i0">That he roams o'er the prairie to-day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thy rocks bear the record of life,</div> - <div class="i0">Evolved from Time's earliest dawn.</div> - <div class="i0">But O for the view of a vanished form,</div> - <div class="i0">And the link that is missing and gone!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Break, break, break</div> - <div class="i0">At thy fossils, and stones, O. C.!</div> - <div class="i0">But the gentle charm of Uniform Law</div> - <div class="i0">Can never quite satisfy me.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">EARS</span>, I<span class="smcapa">DLE</span> T<span class="smcapa">EARS</span>.</h3> - -<p>(The Right Hon. Spencer Walpole, Home Secretary, -shed tears when he heard that the Hyde Park Railings had -been pulled down by the people to whom he had denied -access to the Park).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">EARS</span>, idle tears—a sweet sensation scene—</div> - <div class="i0">Tears at the thought of that Hyde Park affair</div> - <div class="i0">Rise in the eye, and trickle down the nose,</div> - <div class="i0">In looking on the haughty E<span class="smcapa">DMOND</span> B<span class="smcapa">EALES</span>,</div> - <div class="i0">And thinking of the shrubs that are no more.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">(<em>Three verses omitted</em>).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Punch</em>, August 25, 1866.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In one of the early Christmas numbers of -<em>Fun</em> there appeared a parody entitled "The -Dream of Unfair Women." It concluded -thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"A <span class="smcapa">MAID</span>, blue-stockinged, broke the silence drear,</div> - <div class="i0">And flashing forth a winning smile, said she:</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis long since I have seen a man, come here,</div> - <div class="i1">Play croquet now with me!'"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"She spooned, and cheated, and had ancles thick.</div> - <div class="i0">I let her win, the game was such a bore,</div> - <div class="i0">Her bright ball quivered at the coloured stick,</div> - <div class="i1">Touched—and—we played no more."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The trick of Tennyson's blank verse, as displayed -in some of his early and lighter poems, -was admirably imitated by Bayard Taylor in -the "Diversions of the Echo Club," (now -published by Messrs. Chatto and Windus). -The parody is entitled "Eustace Green; or, -the Medicine Bottle."</p> - -<p>In the second volume of "Echoes from the -Clubs" several instances are given of plagiarisms -committed by Tennyson; whilst in "The Figaro" -of October 27, 1875, whole passages from his -tragedy of Queen Mary are shown to have been -borrowed.</p> - -<p>Long extracts from the second scene, of the -second act, are printed side by side with similar -passages taken from the twenty-eighth chapter -of Ainsworth's old novel, "The Tower of -London," showing conclusively that Tennyson -had either appropriated from Ainsworth without -acknowledgment, or that both authors had gone -to the same source for inspiration. Again, -the beauties of "The Idylls of the King" are -generally insisted on without any mention being -made of the fact that in all the main incidents -the poems simply retell the old "History of -King Arthur, and of the Knights of the Round -Table," as compiled by Sir Thomas Malory -more than four centuries ago. Indeed, some of -the most pathetic passages of the old original -have been utterly marred; their simple charm -and quaint pathos being lost in the over elaboration -of detail affected by the Laureate. The -beauty of his blank verse is admitted, and the -Idylls have been frequently parodied. Unfortunately, -most of the parodies are too long to -quote in full in this Part.</p> - - -<h3>A<span class="smcapa">N</span> I<span class="smcapa">DYLL OF</span> P<span class="smcapa">HATTE AND</span> L<span class="smcapa">EENE.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> hale John Sprat—oft called for shortness, Jack—</div> - <div class="i0">Had married—had, in fact, a wife—and she</div> - <div class="i0">Did worship him with wifely reverence.</div> - <div class="i0">He, who had loved her when she was a girl,</div> - <div class="i0">Compass'd her, too, with sweet observances;</div> - <div class="i0">His love shone out in every act he did;</div> - <div class="i0">E'en at the dinner table did it shine.</div> - <div class="i0">For he—liking no fat himself—he never did,</div> - <div class="i0">With jealous care piled up her plate with lean,</div> - <div class="i0">Not knowing that all lean was hateful to her.</div> - <div class="i0">And day by day she thought to tell him o't,</div> - <div class="i0">And watched the fat go out with envious eye,</div> - <div class="i0">But could not speak for bashful delicacy.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At last it chanced that on a winter day,</div> - <div class="i0">The beef—a prize joint!—little was but fat;</div> - <div class="i0">So fat, that John had all his work cut out,</div> - <div class="i0">To snip out lean in fragments for his wife,</div> - <div class="i0">Leaving, in very sooth, none for himself;</div> - <div class="i0">Which seeing, she spoke courage to her soul,</div> - <div class="i0">Took up her fork, and, pointing to the joint</div> - <div class="i0">Where 'twas the fattest, piteously she said:</div> - <div class="i0">"O, husband! full of love and tenderness!</div> - <div class="i0">What is the cause that you so jealously</div> - <div class="i0">Pick out the lean for me? I like it not!</div> - <div class="i0">Nay! loathe it—'tis on the fat that I would feast;</div> - <div class="i0">O me, I fear you do not like my taste!"</div> - <div class="i0">Then he, dropping his horny-handled carving knife,</div> - <div class="i0">Sprinkling therewith the gravy o'er her gown,</div> - <div class="i0">Answer'd, amazed: "What! you like fat, my wife!</div> - <div class="i0">And never told me. O, this is not kind!</div> - <div class="i0">Think what your reticence has wrought for us:</div> - <div class="i0">How all the fat sent down unto the maid—</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Who likes not fat—for such maids never do—</div> - <div class="i0">Has been put in the waste-tub, sold for grease,</div> - <div class="i0">And pocketed as servants' perquisite!</div> - <div class="i0">O, wife! this news is good; for since, perforce,</div> - <div class="i0">A joint must be nor fat nor lean, but both;</div> - <div class="i0">Our different tastes will serve our purpose well;</div> - <div class="i0">For, while you eat the fat—the lean to me</div> - <div class="i0">Falls as my cherished portion. Lo! 'tis good!"</div> - <div class="i0">So henceforth—he that tells the tale relates—</div> - <div class="i0">In John Sprat's household waste was quite unknown;</div> - <div class="i0">For he the lean did eat, and she the fat,</div> - <div class="i0">And thus the dinner-platter was all cleared.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>The Figaro</em>, February 12, 1873.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">ASSING OF</span> M<span class="smcapa">'ARTHUR</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>An Idyll of the Ninth of November</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So through the morn the noise of bustle roll'd</div> - <div class="i0">About the precincts of the Mansion House,</div> - <div class="i0">Until at last M'Arthur, the Lord Mayor,</div> - <div class="i0">Was with his Secretary left alone.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then Mayor M'Arthur to Sir Soulsby spake:</div> - <div class="i0">"The sequel of to-day doth terminate</div> - <div class="i0">The goodliest series of civic jaunts</div> - <div class="i0">Whereof my mind holds record. Of a truth,</div> - <div class="i0">It was a glorious time! I think that I</div> - <div class="i0">Shall never more, in any future year,</div> - <div class="i0">Delight my soul with welcoming to feasts,</div> - <div class="i0">And taking chairs, as in the year just gone;</div> - <div class="i0">For my Chief Magistracy perisheth.</div> - <div class="i0">But now delay not! to the window run,</div> - <div class="i0">Watch what thou see'st, and lightly bring me word."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then did the bold Sir Soulsby answer make:</div> - <div class="i0">"No call have I to follow thy behest;</div> - <div class="i0">Look for thyself—thine eyes are good as mine!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">To whom replied M'Arthur, much in wrath:</div> - <div class="i0">"Ah, miserable and unkind, and untrue,</div> - <div class="i0">Ungrateful Secretary! Woe is me!</div> - <div class="i0">Authority forgets the late Lord Mayor,</div> - <div class="i0">When he lies widow'd of official pow'r</div> - <div class="i0">That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art;</div> - <div class="i0">Thou think'st with thine old master to have done,</div> - <div class="i0">And wouldst neglect him for the new forthwith.</div> - <div class="i0">Yet, for a man may fail in duty once</div> - <div class="i0">And presently repent him, get thee hence:</div> - <div class="i0">But if thou spare to go and bring me word,</div> - <div class="i0">I will arise and clout thee with my hands."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then quickly rose Sir Soulsby, and he ran</div> - <div class="i0">To the great window by the street, and cried:</div> - <div class="i0">"Your lordship, I perceive a gallant coach,</div> - <div class="i0">Drawn by four glossy horses, waits below,</div> - <div class="i0">With well-fed coachman sitting on the box.</div> - <div class="i0">And gold-laced lackeys hanging on behind."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then groaned M'Arthur, "Take me to the coach,"</div> - <div class="i0">So to the coach they came. There lackeys three</div> - <div class="i0">Leap'd to the ground, and seized his Lordship's arms,</div> - <div class="i0">And hitch'd him up, and closely shut the door.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Then loudly did the bold Sir Soulsby cry:</div> - <div class="i0">"Ah! my Lord Mayor M'Arthur, dost thou go?</div> - <div class="i0">Shall I not show my sorrow in my eyes?</div> - <div class="i0">For now I see thy glorious time is dead,</div> - <div class="i0">When every morning brought some famous scheme,</div> - <div class="i0">And every scheme resulted in success.</div> - <div class="i0">Such time hath not been since I first became,</div> - <div class="i0">A sort of fixture in the Mansion House.</div> - <div class="i0">But now thy term of office hath expired,</div> - <div class="i0">And I no longer serving thee, must stay</div> - <div class="i0">To travail 'mong new faces, other minds."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly M'Arthur answer'd from the coach:</div> - <div class="i0">"The old Mayor changeth, yielding place to new,</div> - <div class="i0">Lest one good citizen have all the fun.</div> - <div class="i0">Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?</div> - <div class="i0">My reign is o'er, nor may it do thee harm</div> - <div class="i0">If thou dost never see my face again.</div> - <div class="i0">But now farewell. I am going a long way</div> - <div class="i0">With these thou see'st—if, indeed, we can</div> - <div class="i0">(For narrow and becrowded is the route)—</div> - <div class="i0">Before the new Lord Mayor to Westminster,</div> - <div class="i0">Where many worthies are awaiting us;</div> - <div class="i0">Thence the brave Show must citywards return</div> - <div class="i0">To be dissolved at the famed Guildhall,</div> - <div class="i0">And I at length in limbo shall repose—</div> - <div class="i0">Limbo of Aldermen who've passed the chair."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So said he; and the gallant coach-and-four</div> - <div class="i0">Moved off, like some prodigious equipage</div> - <div class="i0">That seems quite natural in pantomime,</div> - <div class="i0">But strange in real life. Sir Soulsby stood</div> - <div class="i0">Long meditating, till the gold cock'd hats</div> - <div class="i0">Those lackeys wore, looked like a single spark,</div> - <div class="i0">And down Cheapside the cheering died away.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6"><em>The St. James's Gazette</em>, November 9, 1881.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>G<span class="smcapa">ARNET.</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>An Idyll of the Queen</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">G<span class="smcapa">ARNET</span> the Brave, G<span class="smcapa">ARNET</span> the Fortunate,</div> - <div class="i0">G<span class="smcapa">ARNET</span> the Victor, made by Ashantee,</div> - <div class="i0">Heard once again War's summons to the East,</div> - <div class="i0">Heard and rejoiced, and straightway set himself</div> - <div class="i0">To strenuous strife, and subtle shift, to toil</div> - <div class="i0">All-various, and the crowning of his fame,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For from the sand-flats hard by Nilus' shore</div> - <div class="i0">Arose Rebellion's clamant voice, rang out</div> - <div class="i0">The cry of slaughtered Britons, echoed soon</div> - <div class="i0">By thunderous bellowing of brave B<span class="smcapa">EAUCHAMP'S</span> guns.</div> - <div class="i0">Then peaceful G<span class="smcapa">LADSTONE</span> sudden stood and smote</div> - <div class="i0">With rounded fist the Council-board, as though</div> - <div class="i0">It were the Commons' Table, and his foe,</div> - <div class="i0">D<span class="smcapa">IZZY</span>, once more before him, smote and cried,</div> - <div class="i0">"By Jingo, this <em>won't</em> do!!!"—lapsing in heat</div> - <div class="i0">To passing invocation of a name</div> - <div class="i0">Late odious in his ears. Whereon arose</div> - <div class="i0">Conflicting chorussings of praise and blame—</div> - <div class="i0">This atrabilious, half-ironic that—</div> - <div class="i0">From doubting Tories, dubious Liberals,</div> - <div class="i0">Much-gibing G<span class="smcapa">REENWOOD</span>, pert, implacable;</div> - <div class="i0">And peevish P<span class="smcapa">ASSMORE</span>, sourly posing sole</div> - <div class="i0">As Abdiel—with the hump.</div> - <div class="i12">But G<span class="smcapa">ARNET</span>, glad</div> - <div class="i0">With a great gladness Sand-boys may not match,</div> - <div class="i0">And cheer beyond the chirping cricket's, set</div> - <div class="i0">His face toward far Pharaoh-land, where still,</div> - <div class="i0">Pyramid-perched, the Forty Centuries</div> - <div class="i0">Of the thrasonic Corsican looked down,</div> - <div class="i0">Twigging the coming Pocket-Cæsar.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, October 7, 1882.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>J<span class="smcapa">ACK</span> S<span class="smcapa">PRATT</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>After Tennyson</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITHIN</span> the limits of well-ordered law</div> - <div class="i0">They lived, this thrifty squire and eke his spouse;</div> - <div class="i0">No discord marred the genial dinner hour,</div> - <div class="i0">Where union rooted in dis-union stood,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> - <div class="i0">And tastes divergent served the end in view;</div> - <div class="i0">What he would not, she would, what she not, he;</div> - <div class="i0">So in all courtesie the meal progressed</div> - <div class="i0">And soon the viands wholly passed from sight.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">J. M. L<span class="smcapa">OWRY</span>, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The plot of the Idyll, "Gareth and Lynnette," -was given, in burlesque style, by Mr. Martin -Wood in "The Bath and Cheltenham Gazette" -shortly after the appearance of the original.</p> - -<p>"The Quest of the Holy Poker," a parody in -blank verse appeared in <em>Punch</em>, March 5, 1870.</p> - -<p>Three long Idyllic parodies, entitled "Willie -and Minnie" appeared in <em>Kottabos</em>, a Trinity -College magazine, published in Dublin by Mr. -W. McGee, in 1876.</p> - -<p><em>The St. Paul's Magazine</em> of January, 1872, contained -a most amusing political Idyll, entitled -"<em>The Latest Tournament</em>"—an Idyll of the Queen -(respectfully inscribed to Alfred Tennyson, Esq., -Poet Laureate). This parody, which consists -of nearly 400 lines, describes, in a mock-heroic -style, all the principal political celebrities of the -day, its satire being aimed at the supposed -Republican tendencies of the Liberal party.</p> - -<p>"The Prince's Noses," a modern Idyll, by -W. J. Linton, a parody of Tennyson's blank -verse, appeared in <em>Scribner's Monthly Magazine</em>, -April, 1880.</p> - -<p><em>Punch</em>, May 27, 1882, contained a poem -entitled "On the Hill; or, Tennysonian Fragments, -picked up near the Grand Stand." This -was an imitation of style only.</p> - -<p>"Tory Revels" (<em>slightly altered from Tennyson</em>) -in <em>Punch</em>, August 26, 1882, commenced thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> G<span class="smcapa">YPES</span> T<span class="smcapa">OLLODDLE</span>, all an Autumn day,</div> - <div class="i0">Gave his broad, breezy lands, till set of sun,</div> - <div class="i0">Up to the Tories."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>and described a Conservative political picnic. It -concluded:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Then there were fireworks; and overhead</div> - <div class="i0">S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> G<span class="smcapa">YPES</span> T<span class="smcapa">OLLODDLE'S</span> aisles of lofty limes</div> - <div class="i0">Made noise with beer and bunkum, and with squibs."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Wheel World</em>, October, 1882, contained a -long parody, entitled "London to Leicester; a -Bicycling Idyl, by Talfred Ennyson (Poet -Laureate to the Mental Wanderers, B.C.)" -This is written in very blank verse, and is -chiefly interesting to 'Cyclists.</p> - -<p><em>Pastime</em>, June 29, 1883, contained "T<span class="smcapa">ENNIS</span>, a -Fragment of the Lost Tennisiad," and July 27, -1883, "The Lay of the Seventh Tournament," -both being parodies of Tennyson's "Idylls of -the King."</p> - -<p>The small detached poems which Lord -Tennyson has written for the magazines of -late years, have been the cause of numerous -and very unflattering parodies.</p> - -<p>The following "Prefatory Poem," by Alfred -Tennyson, appeared in the first number of the -"Nineteenth Century," published in March, 1877, -by Messrs. Henry S. King and Co., London:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HOSE</span> that of late had fleeted far and fast</div> - <div class="i0">To touch all shores, now leaving to the skill</div> - <div class="i0">Of others their old craft, seaworthy still,</div> - <div class="i0">Have charter'd this; where mindful of the past,</div> - <div class="i0">Our true co-mates regather round the mast;</div> - <div class="i0">Of diverse tongue, but with a common will,</div> - <div class="i0">Here, in this roaring moon of daffodil</div> - <div class="i0">And crocus, to put forth and brave the blast;</div> - <div class="i0">For some descending from the sacred peak</div> - <div class="i0">Of hoar, high-templed faith, have leagued again</div> - <div class="i0">Their lot with ours, to rove the world about;</div> - <div class="i0">And some are wilder comrades, sworn to seek</div> - <div class="i0">If any golden harbour be for men</div> - <div class="i0">In seas of Death and sunless gulfs of Doubt.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Upon which Mr. John Whyte (of the Public -Library, Inverness) wrote the following:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"I felt sure on reading the above lines that I had seen -among my papers something nearly as prosy. The following -is, I consider, not only quite as stiff as the foregoing, -but it seems to me to prove beyond question that the one -was suggested by the other. Whether the Poet Laureate or -the author of 'The Last Hat' is the plagiarist, I leave others -to decide.</p></blockquote> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> L<span class="smcapa">AST</span> H<span class="smcapa">AT</span> L<span class="smcapa">EFT</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HOSE</span> low-born cubs who sneaked away so fast,</div> - <div class="i0">Have picked all the best hats, and left the worst</div> - <div class="i0">To others. For their craft may they be cursed</div> - <div class="i0">Who left me this! I mind me of the past—</div> - <div class="i0">I stalked along, and felt tall as a mast,</div> - <div class="i0">In my new beaver; with this bashed old pot,</div> - <div class="i0">Under the shining moon, like seedy sot,</div> - <div class="i0">I must go creeping forth, or brave the blast</div> - <div class="i0">Bareheaded. Should I chance to meet the <em>beak</em>,</div> - <div class="i0">I swear by faith, I'll send him on their trail;</div> - <div class="i0">The lot we'll follow the old world about,</div> - <div class="i0">Among their wilder comrades, sworn to seek</div> - <div class="i0">And find the thief; their doom be, if we fail—</div> - <div class="i0">Disease and death—long years of mumps and gout!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> C<span class="smcapa">ITY</span> M<span class="smcapa">ONTENEGRO</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>One More Sonnet for the Laureate's New Book</em>).</p> - -<p>(<em>Apropos</em> of the hideous obstruction which marks the site -of old Temple Bar, and remarkable as being a very close -parody of Tennyson's sonnet on "Montenegro," which -appeared in the Nineteenth Century, May, 1877).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I <span class="smcapa">ROSE</span> to show them a half-sovran tail,</div> - <div class="i1">To turn to chaff their "freedom" on this height,</div> - <div class="i1">Grim, comic, savage; worse by day and night</div> - <div class="i0">Than any Turk: yet here, all over scale,</div> - <div class="i0">I watch the passer as his footsteps fail,</div> - <div class="i1">With dauntless hundreds struggling main and might</div> - <div class="i1">To cross,—the one policeman out of sight,—</div> - <div class="i0">And reach this haven where the strongest quail.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> - <div class="i0">O, smallest among steeples! Precious throne</div> - <div class="i1">Of Freedom! Why, I merely swell the swarm</div> - <div class="i0">That surge and seethe in curses and in tears!</div> - <div class="i0">Great Gog and Magog! Never since thine own</div> - <div class="i1">Odd dodges drew the cloud and brake the storm,</div> - <div class="i0">Have you produced a mightier crop of jeers!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Punch</em>, December 11, 1880.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>R<span class="smcapa">IZPAH</span>, 1883.</h3> - -<p class="center">(<em>Written expressly for this collection</em>).</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">R<span class="smcapa">AILING</span>, railing, railing, the crowd from town and lea,</div> - <div class="i0">When William's voice was heard, "O poet a peer to be!"</div> - <div class="i0">"Why should he call me, I wonder, in that high-born house to go,</div> - <div class="i0">For my politics won't bear searching, and my creed's rather mixed, you know?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"We should be laughed at, my William, 'twould be the jest of the town;</div> - <div class="i0">Even the knights would jeer, and the press sure to cry it down.</div> - <div class="i0">Why, I can but rule my own land; when I tried awhile for the stage,</div> - <div class="i0">I only drew empty houses, in this cynical latter age.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Anything failed again? Nay, what is there left to fail?—</div> - <div class="i0">'Harold,' or 'Mary,' or 'May,' or even the 'Lover's Tale?'</div> - <div class="i0">What am I saying, and why? fails!—that must be a lie!</div> - <div class="i0">Fails—what fails?—not my faith in play writing, not I.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Why will you call up here?—who are you?—what have you heard</div> - <div class="i0">That you all sit so solemn and quiet?—nobody's spoken a word.</div> - <div class="i0">O, to make of me—yes, his lordship! none of the scribbling crew</div> - <div class="i0">Have crept in by their rhymes before, as I have dared to do.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Ah! you that have lived so soft, what do you know of the spite,</div> - <div class="i0">The cutting and slashing critiques that the wretched papers write?</div> - <div class="i0">I have known it; when you were amused in the stalls the first night of a play,</div> - <div class="i0">And chattered and gossipped together, and forgot it the very next day.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Nay, but it's kind of you, William, to gild my declining life,</div> - <div class="i0">And make me a peer, a baron, above all this petty strife;</div> - <div class="i0">But I haven't left off scribbling, and shall not—no, not I;</div> - <div class="i0">But I'll write whenever I will, for the public's sure to buy.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"I whipt Miss Bulwer for jeering, and gave it him, slightly riled,</div> - <div class="i0">For mocking at me, or my poems, has always driven me wild.</div> - <div class="i0">To be idle—I couldn't be idle—I do not write for a whim,</div> - <div class="i0">And a guinea a line is better than a short "Italian Hymn."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"So, William, I thank you gladly; I think you meant to be kind;</div> - <div class="i0">And I will not heed the mob, whilst they'll very quickly find</div> - <div class="i0">The poems will read as well by a Lord as ever they did before,</div> - <div class="i0">And the publishers sell more copies, and more, and more, and more.</div> - <div class="i0">See how it reads for yourself, to be stuck up on every wall,</div> - <div class="i0">Lord Tennyson's Poems complete, in a specially printed Vol."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i20">W.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>The Nineteenth Century</em> for November, 1881, -contained a very uncomfortable kind of poem, -by Tennyson, entitled "D<span class="smcapa">ESPAIR</span>, a Dramatic -Monologue." The argument of the poem was -that "a man and his wife having lost faith in a -God, and hope of a life to come, and being -utterly miserable in this, resolve to end themselves -by drowning. The woman is drowned, -but the man is rescued by a minister of the sect -he had abandoned."</p> - -<p><em>The Fortnightly Review</em> of the following month -contained a parody which not only turned inside -out the arguments of the original poem, but was -so exquisitely worded as a burlesque that it -was by many attributed to the pen of no less a -poet than Mr. A. C. Swinburne.</p> - - -<h3>D<span class="smcapa">ISGUST</span>: A D<span class="smcapa">RAMATIC</span> M<span class="smcapa">ONOLOGUE</span>.</h3> - -<blockquote> - -<p>(A woman and her husband, having been converted from -free thought to Calvinism, and being utterly miserable in -consequence, resolve to end themselves by poison. The -man dies, but the woman is rescued by application of the -stomach-pump).</p></blockquote> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p6">I.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">P<span class="smcapa">ILLS</span>? talk to me of your pills? Well, that, I must say is cool.</div> - <div class="i0">Can't bring my old man round? he was always a stubborn old fool.</div> - <div class="i0">If I hadn't taken precautions—a warning to all that wive—</div> - <div class="i0">He might not have been dead, and I might not have been alive.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">II.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You would like to know, if I please, how it was that our troubles began?</div> - <div class="i0">You see, we were brought up Agnostics, I and my poor old man.</div> - <div class="i0">And we got some idea of selection and evolution, you know—</div> - <div class="i0">Professor Huxley's doing—where does he expect to go!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">III.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Well, then came trouble on trouble on trouble—I may say, a peck—</div> - <div class="i0">And his cousin was wanted one day on the charge of forging a cheque—</div> - <div class="i0">And his puppy died of the mange—my parrot choked on its perch.</div> - <div class="i0">This was the consequence, was it, of not going weekly to church?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IV.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So we felt that the best if not only thing that remained to be done</div> - <div class="i0">On an earth everlastingly moving about a perpetual sun,</div> - <div class="i0">Where worms breed worms to be eaten of worms that have eaten their betters—</div> - <div class="i0">And reviewers are barely civil—and people get spiteful letters—</div> - <div class="i0">And a famous man is forgot ere the minute hand can tick nine—</div> - <div class="i0">Was to send in our P.P.C., and purchase a packet of strychnine.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">V.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nay—but first we thought it was rational—only fair—</div> - <div class="i0">To give both parties a hearing—and went to the meeting-house there,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> - <div class="i0">At the curve of the street that runs from the Stag to the old Blue Lion.</div> - <div class="i0">"Little Zion" they call it—a deal more "little" than "Zion."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the preacher preached from the text, "Come out of her." Hadn't we come?</div> - <div class="i0">And we thought of the Shepherd in Pickwick—and fancied a flavour of rum</div> - <div class="i0">Balmily borne on the wind of his words—and my man said, "Well,</div> - <div class="i0">Let's get out of this, my dear—for his text has a brimstone smell."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">So we went, O God, out of chapel—and gazed, ah God, at the sea.</div> - <div class="i0">And I said nothing to him. And he said nothing to me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">VIII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And there, you see, was an end of it all. It was obvious, in fact,</div> - <div class="i0">That, whether or not you believe in the doctrine taught in a tract,</div> - <div class="i0">Life was not in the least worth living. Because, don't you see?</div> - <div class="i0">Nothing that can't be, can, and what must be, must. Q.E.D.</div> - <div class="i0">And the infinitesimal sources of Infinite Unideality</div> - <div class="i0">Curve in to the central abyss of a sort of a queer Personality.</div> - <div class="i0">Whose refraction is felt in the nebulæ strewn in the pathway of Mars</div> - <div class="i0">Like the pairings of nails Æonian—clippings and snippings of stars—</div> - <div class="i0">Shavings of suns that revolve and evolve and involve—and at times</div> - <div class="i0">Give a sweet astronomical twang to remarkably hobbling rhymes.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">IX.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And the sea curved in with a moan—and we thought how once—before</div> - <div class="i0">We fell out with those atheist lecturers—once, ah, once and no more,</div> - <div class="i0">We read together, while midnight blazed like the Yankee flag,</div> - <div class="i0">A reverend gentleman's work—the Conversion of Colonel Quagg.</div> - <div class="i0">And out of its pages we gathered this lesson of doctrine pure—</div> - <div class="i0">Zephaniah Stockdolloger's gospel—a word that deserves to endure</div> - <div class="i0">Infinite millions on millions of Infinite Æons to come—</div> - <div class="i0">"Vocation," says he, "is vocation, and duty duty. Some."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">X.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And duty, said I, distinctly points out—and vocation, said he,</div> - <div class="i0">Demands as distinctly—that I should kill you, and that you should kill me.</div> - <div class="i0">The reason is obvious—we cannot exist without creeds—who can?</div> - <div class="i0">So we went to the chemist's—a highly respectable church-going man—</div> - <div class="i0">And bought two packets of poison. You wouldn't have done so. Wait.</div> - <div class="i0">It's evident, Providence is not with you, ma'am, the same thing as Fate.</div> - <div class="i0">Unconscious cerebration educes God from a fog,</div> - <div class="i0">But spell God backwards, what then? Give it up? the answer is, dog.</div> - <div class="i0">(I don't exactly see how this last verse is to scan,</div> - <div class="i0">But that's a consideration I leave to the secular man).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XI.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I meant of course to go with him—as far as I pleased—but first</div> - <div class="i0">To see how my old man liked it—I thought perhaps he might burst.</div> - <div class="i0">I didn't wish it—but still it's a blessed release for a wife—</div> - <div class="i0">And he saw that I thought so—and grinned in derision—and threatened my life</div> - <div class="i0">If I made wry faces—and so I took just a sip—and he—</div> - <div class="i0">Well—you know how it ended—he didn't get over me.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="p6">XII.</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Terrible, isn't it? Still, on reflection, it might have been worse.</div> - <div class="i0">He might have been the unhappy survivor, and followed my hearse.</div> - <div class="i0">"Never do it again?" Why, certainly not. You don't</div> - <div class="i0">Suppose I should think of it, surely? But anyhow—there—I won't.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<p>There still remain a great many parodies of -Tennyson's poems to be quoted, and every day -increases their number. It will, therefore, be -necessary to return to this author in some future -part of this collection; the following references -are given to some of the more easily accessible -parodies, which space will not now permit me to -quote in full:—</p> - -<p>"Edinburgh Sketches and Miscellanies." By -Eric. Edinburgh and Glasgow: John Menzies -and Company, 1876, contains <em>Codger's Hall</em>, -a long and humorous parody of <em>Locksley Hall;</em> -Once a Week, Echoes from the Clubs, and The -Weekly Dispatch, October 19, 1884, also contained -parodies of the same poem.</p> - -<p><em>Lady Clara Vere de Vere</em> was the subject of an -advertising parody, of which the best verse -ran:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"Lady Clara Vere de Vere,</div> - <div class="i0">You put strange fancies in my head!</div> - <div class="i0">Do you remember that rich silk</div> - <div class="i1">You wore last year at Maidenhead?</div> - <div class="i1">Now "velveteen" is all the go;</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis richer far, and costs much less,</div> - <div class="i0">The lion on your old stone gates</div> - <div class="i1">Is not more ancient than that dress."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>whilst the Charge of the Light Brigade was -thus imitated by a Birmingham tea-dealer:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Half a League! Half a League!</div> - <div class="i0">Half a League, onward!</div> - <div class="i0">Into Gant's tea shop</div> - <div class="i4">Walk many hundred.</div> - <div class="i0">Tea is the people's cry,</div> - <div class="i0">Which is the kind to buy?</div> - <div class="i0">Gant's at Two Shillings try,</div> - <div class="i4">Say many hundred!</div> - <div class="i0">Tea-men to right of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Tea-men to left of us,</div> - <div class="i0">Grocers all round us,</div> - <div class="i4">Find they have blundered."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>There was another parody on the Charge of the -Light Brigade, in <em>Punch</em>, December 19, 1868.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The Song of the 'Skyed' one, as sung at -the Academy on the first Monday in May," was -a parody, in ten verses, commencing:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">A<span class="smcapa">WAKE</span> I must, and early, a proceeding that I hate,</div> - <div class="i0">And cab it to Trafalgar Square, and ascertain my fate;</div> - <div class="i0">For to-morrow's the Art-Derby, the looked-for opening day</div> - <div class="i0">Of the Fine Art Exhibition, yearly shown by the R.A.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This appeared in <em>Punch</em>, May 11, 1861.</p> - -<p><em>The May Queen</em> was also imitated in a poem -contained in <em>Modern Society</em>, March 29, 1884. It -was entitled "Baron Honour," and was a very -severe, and rather vulgar, skit on Lord Tennyson's -adulation of the Royal Family.</p> - -<p>In <em>The Weekly Dispatch</em>, September 9, 1883, -five parodies were printed in a competition to -anticipate the Poet Laureate's expected poem -in commemoration of the late John Brown; a -subject on which, however, Lord Tennyson has -not as yet published a poem. In the same newspaper -six parodies of <em>Hands All Round</em> were -inserted on April 2, 1882.</p> - -<p>These were very entertaining, and were -severally entitled: "Pots all Round;" "Tennysonian -Toryism Developed;" "Drinks all -Round;" "Cheers all Round;" "Hands all -Round (with the mask off)"; and "Howls all -Round."</p> - -<p><em>Truth</em>, February 14, 1884, contained a parody -entitled "In Memoriam; a Collie Dog." <em>Punch</em> -also had a parody with the title "In Memoriam" -on July 9, 1864.</p> - -<p>"The Two Voices, as heard by Jones of the -Treasury about Vacation time," was the title of -a long parody in <em>Punch</em>, September 7, 1861.</p> - -<p>There was also a political parody, on the same -original, in <em>Punch</em>, May 11, 1878.</p> - -<p>"Recollections of the Stock Exchange," a -long parody of <em>Recollections of the Arabian Nights</em>, -and dealing with the topic of Turkish Stocks, -appeared in <em>Punch</em>, December 18, 1875.</p> - -<p>"The Duchess's Song," after Tennyson, was -in <em>Punch</em>, September 3, 1881; and <em>British Birds</em>, -by Mortimer Collins (1878), contained, amongst -others, a capital parody of Tennyson.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> P<span class="smcapa">OETASTERS</span>: A D<span class="smcapa">RAMATIC</span> C<span class="smcapa">ANTATA</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center"><em>Chorus of Poetasters.</em></p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">A<span class="smcapa">N</span> itch of rhymes has seized the times</div> - <div class="i3">Till every cobbler's turned a poet,</div> - <div class="i2">And he who taught the secret ought</div> - <div class="i3">In justice to be made to know it.</div> - <div class="i0">Rhyme, brothers, rhyme, vast odes and epics vaster,</div> - <div class="i0">And post them to the Master, Master, Master.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Bards, pour your benison on Baron Tennyson,</div> - <div class="i3">Who vulgarised the art of rhyming,</div> - <div class="i2">And set the twaddle that fills each noddle</div> - <div class="i3">In endless jingle-jangle chiming:</div> - <div class="i0">Rhyme, brothers, rhyme, each puling poetaster,</div> - <div class="i0">And inundate the Master, Master, Master.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3"><em>Recitative and Aria: Lord Tennyson.</em></div> - <div class="i0">Bards, idle bards, I know not what ye mean!</div> - <div class="i0">Words powerfully expressive of despair</div> - <div class="i0">Rise to my lips and flash from out my eyes</div> - <div class="i0">In looking o'er the reams each post-bag yields.</div> - <div class="i0">But, mark me, I'll return the stuff no more.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When morning sees the groaning board</div> - <div class="i1">With my baronial breakfast spread—</div> - <div class="i1">With bacon crisp and snow-white bread,</div> - <div class="i0">And fragrant coffee freshly poured.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I greet with joy the cheerful sight,</div> - <div class="i1">When, hark! there comes the postman's knock:</div> - <div class="i1">I thrill as with a lightning shock</div> - <div class="i0">And bid adieu to appetite.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">For song and stave and madrigal</div> - <div class="i1">Make dark to me the opening day,</div> - <div class="i1">And sonnet, ode, and roundelay</div> - <div class="i0">Sink on my spirit like a pall.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And lunch-time brings another host,</div> - <div class="i1">At each delivery they throng,</div> - <div class="i1">While any hour may bring along</div> - <div class="i0">Three tragedies by parcels-post;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And twelve-book epics ton on ton,</div> - <div class="i1">Each with its laudatory ode</div> - <div class="i1">Of drivelling dedications, load</div> - <div class="i0">The vans of Carter, Paterson.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I can nor eat, nor drink, nor sleep</div> - <div class="i1">In peace; I vow that from to-day</div> - <div class="i1">I'll have them carted straight away</div> - <div class="i0">Unopened to the rubbish-heap.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Call in the dustman!—Lo! 'tis done!</div> - <div class="i1">The contract signed, I breathe again.</div> - <div class="i1">Come, load at once thy lingering wain</div> - <div class="i0">Blest henchman of oblivion!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5"><em>Finale: Chorus of Poetasters.</em></div> - <div class="i0">Not return nor e'en acknowledge!</div> - <div class="i1">Dares he treat our verses thus?</div> - <div class="i0">Knows he not the might malignant</div> - <div class="i1">Of a poetaster's "cuss?"</div> - <div class="i0">Dreads he not our "spiteful letters,"</div> - <div class="i1">Epigrams, satiric skits?</div> - <div class="i0">Let him learn that would-be poets</div> - <div class="i1">Also shine as would-be wits.</div> - <div class="i0">Who is he to scorn our verses?</div> - <div class="i1">British taxpayers are we;</div> - <div class="i0">Is he not the Poet Laureate?</div> - <div class="i1">Don't we stand his salary?</div> - <div class="i0">Straightway we'll transfer allegiance</div> - <div class="i1">To some other, blander bard,</div> - <div class="i0">Whom no paltry peerage renders</div> - <div class="i1">Uppish, arrogant, and hard.</div> - <div class="i0">Mr. Browning, for example,</div> - <div class="i1">Won't treat brother poets thus.</div> - <div class="i0">Though we may not understand him,</div> - <div class="i1">Doubtless he'll appreciate us;</div> - <div class="i0">He'll return with mild laudation</div> - <div class="i1">Our effusions every one.</div> - <div class="i0">Poetasters, snap your fingers</div> - <div class="i1">At the played-out Tennyson!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">W. A.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6"><em>St. James's Gazette</em>, June 24, 1884.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<h2><a name="THE_REVEREND_CHARLES_WOLFE" id="THE_REVEREND_CHARLES_WOLFE"></a>The Reverend Charles Wolfe.</h2> - - -<p>Since the June and July parts were published -containing parodies on "The Burial of Sir John -Moore," <em>Truth</em> has had a Parody Competition -with that poem as the selected original. The -Editor of <em>Truth</em> published no less than twenty-four -parodies, many of which were very amusing.</p> - -<p>Some of the best are given complete, with a -few extracts from the remainder:—</p> - - - -<h2>PARODIES OF<br /> -"THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE."</h2> - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> D<span class="smcapa">EATH OF THE</span> "C<span class="smcapa">HILDERSES</span>."</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> half-sovereigns were we, but ten-shilling bits,</div> - <div class="i1">The thin, jaundiced children of Childers;</div> - <div class="i0">To name us the public were put to their wits,</div> - <div class="i1">As some called us "Guilders," some "Gilders."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We buried our heads in our cradle, the Mint,</div> - <div class="i1">And were sparingly fed by our nurses;</div> - <div class="i0">In our life, which was brief, we received without stint</div> - <div class="i1">Abuse, imprecations, and curses.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless retorts did we ever return</div> - <div class="i1">To those who so coldly received us:</div> - <div class="i0">But we patiently bore each contemptuous spurn,</div> - <div class="i1">Till sweet death in his mercy relieved us.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were our moments on earth,</div> - <div class="i1">And they were brief snatches of sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">Our parents were told at the time of our birth,</div> - <div class="i1">We were only for idiots to borrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought, as we lay in our embryo mould,</div> - <div class="i1">Of the fun we should have when grown older;</div> - <div class="i0">But we learnt that all glittering things are not gold,</div> - <div class="i1">That a "gilder" is hardly a "golder."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they talked of our humble alloy,</div> - <div class="i1">And how we were base and degraded;</div> - <div class="i0">And tried in all possible ways to annoy</div> - <div class="i1">Our lives, which already were faded.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Though half our heavy blows and kicks,</div> - <div class="i1">We never thought once of returning;</div> - <div class="i0">We passed over the "Styx" without passing the "Pyx,"</div> - <div class="i1">Or the wonders of life ever learning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly but gladly, too tired to laugh,</div> - <div class="i1">We made room for the use of our betters;</div> - <div class="i0">Heavy our grave-stone, and our epitaph</div> - <div class="i1">Was a column of newspaper letters.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">D<span class="smcapa">ALETH.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">EASON</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a "drum" was given, nor dance of note,</div> - <div class="i1">From the "course" at fair Goodwood we'd hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a soul here but uttered farewell, and shot</div> - <div class="i1">Out of town, looking jaded and worried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And lightly they'll talk of the "Master" that's gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And o'er his own "Hashes" abuse him;</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll reck, if they'll let him sail on</div> - <div class="i1">In the yacht which was built to amuse him!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of our heavy trunks were down,</div> - <div class="i1">When the clock struck the hour for departing;</div> - <div class="i0">And we heard the distant discordant groan</div> - <div class="i1">Of the engine ready for starting!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and smoothly we glided out</div> - <div class="i1">Of the station so grim and so gritty;</div> - <div class="i0">We cared not a doit, and we raised not a doubt,</div> - <div class="i1">For we'd left care behind in the "city!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">O<span class="smcapa">RCHIS.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF MY</span> F<span class="smcapa">ELLOW</span> L<span class="smcapa">ODGER'S</span> B<span class="smcapa">ANJO</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a "strum" was heard, not a tune or a note,</div> - <div class="i1">As his chords to the damp earth I hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a soul there was by when I stripped off my coat,</div> - <div class="i1">O'er the grave where the banjo I buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I buried it darkly at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">The sods with a fire shovel turning.</div> - <div class="i0">My heart throbbing fast with a wild delight,</div> - <div class="i1">And revenge in my heart fiercely burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless fingers I close to it pressed,</div> - <div class="i1">Not as much as once did I sound it,</div> - <div class="i0">But I laid it gently down to its rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With a <em>Daily News</em> wrapped round it.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Quickly and gladly I laid it down</div> - <div class="i1">To a place where no more it could worry,</div> - <div class="i0">I stirred not a twine and I raised not a tone,</div> - <div class="i1">But I silently left in my glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">G<span class="smcapa">ARRYOWEN</span> J<span class="smcapa">ACK</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> F<span class="smcapa">ATE OF</span> G<span class="smcapa">ENERAL</span> G<span class="smcapa">ORDON.</span></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a drum was heard, not a martial note,</div> - <div class="i1">As our Gordon to Khartoum was hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">But into the desert our hero we shot,</div> - <div class="i1">And there in the desert he's buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useful soldiers were with him sent,</div> - <div class="i1">Neither horseman nor footman we found him;</div> - <div class="i0">But alone, on a camel, our warrior went,</div> - <div class="i1">With the foe and the desert all round him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the prayers he made,</div> - <div class="i1">Not a word of complaint or of sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">But we coldly declined to give him our aid,</div> - <div class="i1">And told him to wait—till "to-morrow!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And he thought as he lay on his anxious bed,</div> - <div class="i1">Or the foe-threatened city defended:</div> - <div class="i0">"'Tis plain that the men who are over my head</div> - <div class="i1">Have ideas I've not quite comprehended."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">And lightly men talk of his fanatic ways,</div> - <div class="i1">Because life and wealth he nought reckons;</div> - <div class="i0">But little he recks of their blame or their praise,</div> - <div class="i1">And goes straight where his own honour beckons.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Not half of his heavy task is done,</div> - <div class="i1">That of "rescuing and retiring"—</div> - <div class="i0">He will not retire, for he has rescued none,</div> - <div class="i1">And thousands upon him are firing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly I lay my pen down,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis a mean and pitiful story;</div> - <div class="i0">God grant we mayn't have to carve on his stone,</div> - <div class="i1">"England left him alone in his glory."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">G<span class="smcapa">UINEA</span> P<span class="smcapa">IG.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> F<span class="smcapa">UNERAL OF</span> O<span class="smcapa">NE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ORE</span> V<span class="smcapa">ICTIM AT</span> -M<span class="smcapa">ONTE</span> C<span class="smcapa">ARLO</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a franc he had, not a louis nor note,</div> - <div class="i1">As forth from the tables he hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Resolved to discharge one fatal shot,</div> - <div class="i1">And leave his corpse to be buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They buried him deeply at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">The soil with their mattocks turning;</div> - <div class="i0">When the sinking moon refused her light,</div> - <div class="i1">And the lamps had ceased from burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> - <div class="i0">A useful coffin enclosed his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">Which the Administration found him;</div> - <div class="i0">And he lay like a suicide sadly at rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With none of his friends around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Silent and secret they left him there,</div> - <div class="i1">The wound in his head fresh and gory;</div> - <div class="i0">Replaced all the plants and the shrubs as they were,</div> - <div class="i1">And hoped to discredit the story.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">J<span class="smcapa">ANE</span> K<span class="smcapa">ENNEDY</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF THE</span> D<span class="smcapa">UKE OF</span> W<span class="smcapa">ELLINGTON</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> drums were heard, and the funeral notes,</div> - <div class="i1">As his corpse to the City was carried;</div> - <div class="i0">The soldiers discharged their farewell shots,</div> - <div class="i1">Near the grave where our hero we buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We buried him grandly in noon's full light,</div> - <div class="i1">The clay to earth's bosom returning;</div> - <div class="i0">With the cheerful sunbeams shining bright,</div> - <div class="i1">And within the lantern burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Three costly coffins encased his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">(In sheet and in shroud they had wound him);</div> - <div class="i0">And he lay like a conqueror taking his rest</div> - <div class="i1">With his marshal compeers round him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Many and long were the prayers we said,</div> - <div class="i1">And we murmured last words of sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">As we steadfastly gazed on the grave of the dead,</div> - <div class="i1">And we sighed, "Who will lead us to-morrow?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought as they filled in his narrow bed,</div> - <div class="i1">Of his struggles across the billows;</div> - <div class="i0">And we dreamt that all ages would honour the dead,</div> - <div class="i1">As a Captain above his fellows.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly men speak of him now that he's gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And grudge e'en the recompense paid him:</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll reck if they'll let him sleep on,</div> - <div class="i1">In the tomb where a grateful land laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">At length our grievous task was done,</div> - <div class="i1">And the masses were slowly retiring,</div> - <div class="i0">And the clangour ceased of the minute gun,</div> - <div class="i1">That for hours had been steadily firing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Solemnly, sadly, we left him alone,</div> - <div class="i1">With his roll of deeds famous in story;</div> - <div class="i0">We carved him a trophy, we praised him in stone,</div> - <div class="i1">And to-day—we've forgotten his glory!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">O<span class="smcapa">BSERVER</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF THE</span> B<span class="smcapa">ACHELOR</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a laugh was heard, not a frivolous note,</div> - <div class="i1">As the groom to the wedding we carried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a jester discharged his farewell shot</div> - <div class="i1">As the bachelor went to be married.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We married him quickly that morning bright,</div> - <div class="i1">The leaves of our Prayer-books turning,</div> - <div class="i0">In the chancel's dimly religious light;</div> - <div class="i1">And tears in our eyelids burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless nosegay adorned his chest,</div> - <div class="i1">Not in chains, but in laws we bound him;</div> - <div class="i0">And he looked like a bridegroom trying his best</div> - <div class="i1">To look used to the scene around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and small were the fees it cost,</div> - <div class="i1">And we spoke not a word of sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">But we silently gazed on the face of the lost,</div> - <div class="i1">And we bitterly thought of the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought as we hurried them home to be fed,</div> - <div class="i1">And tried our low spirits to rally,</div> - <div class="i0">That the weather looked very like squalls overhead</div> - <div class="i1">For the passage from Dover to Calais.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they'll talk of the bachelor gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And o'er his frail fondness upbraid him;</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll reck if they let him alone,</div> - <div class="i1">With his wife that the parson has made him!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of our heavy lunch was done</div> - <div class="i1">When the clock struck the hour for retiring;</div> - <div class="i0">And we judged from the knocks which had now begun,</div> - <div class="i1">That their cabby was rapidly tiring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we led them down,</div> - <div class="i1">From the scene of his lame oratory;</div> - <div class="i0">We told the four-wheeler to drive them to town,</div> - <div class="i1">And we left them alone in their glory!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">Y<span class="smcapa">ELRAP.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ARRIAGE OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> F<span class="smcapa">REDERICK</span> B<span class="smcapa">OORE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a laugh was heard, not a time-worn jest,</div> - <div class="i1">In the brougham in which we were carried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not one displayed himself at his best,</div> - <div class="i1">For our friend was going to be married.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Calmly and sadly we stood that day,</div> - <div class="i1">To the sorrowful end of the story;</div> - <div class="i0">But when all was o'er he hurried away,</div> - <div class="i1">And left us alone in our glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">H<span class="smcapa">OCKWOOD.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>A V<span class="smcapa">ISIT OF</span> W<span class="smcapa">ORKING</span> M<span class="smcapa">EN TO THE</span> H<span class="smcapa">EALTH</span> E<span class="smcapa">XHIBITION</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a grumble was heard, not a guttural note,</div> - <div class="i1">As we off to the Healtheries hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a cove of the party, but paid his shot,</div> - <div class="i1">Though the seedy young man appeared flurried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we dawdled down</div> - <div class="i1">From the Doultons, and dresses, and dairies,</div> - <div class="i0">We carved not a name, we grazed not a stone,</div> - <div class="i1">But went straight to our alleys and "aireys."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">B<span class="smcapa">OB</span> R<span class="smcapa">IDLEY</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> R<span class="smcapa">EMOVAL OF THE</span> H<span class="smcapa">OUSE OF</span> L<span class="smcapa">ORDS</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a sound was heard but a general drone,</div> - <div class="i1">As remorselessly onwards we hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a soul but discharged a farewell groan</div> - <div class="i1">For the House where those zeros erst worried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But after our pleasant task was done,</div> - <div class="i1">When the clock struck the hour for assembling,</div> - <div class="i0">We stood in the distance and scanned the fun,</div> - <div class="i1">As the Lords came suddenly trembling.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Joyously, gladly, we heard them bemoan</div> - <div class="i1">The fate of their famed upper storey;</div> - <div class="i0">We'd moved every stick and we'd razed every stone,</div> - <div class="i1">And bereft them of home and of glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">E<span class="smcapa">STRELLA.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">PINSTER</span> H<span class="smcapa">OUSEHOLDER</span> M<span class="smcapa">ARTYR</span>, -<span class="smcapa">OR THE</span> M<span class="smcapa">AN IN</span> P<span class="smcapa">OSSESSION</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a sigh was heard, not a funeral note,</div> - <div class="i1">As the malice of Gladstone she parried:</div> - <div class="i0">"No taxes from me; I pay not a shot!"</div> - <div class="i1">So her furniture off was carried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They carried it darkly—a deed of night,</div> - <div class="i1">For desk, tables, and chairs oft returning,</div> - <div class="i0">By the struggling moonbeams' misty light,</div> - <div class="i1">And a lantern dimly burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> - <div class="i0">The man in possession ate, drank of her best,</div> - <div class="i1">In well-aired holland sheets he wound him;</div> - <div class="i0">And he lay like a warrior taking his rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With his pipe alight—confound him!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the prayers he said,</div> - <div class="i1">And he spoke not a word of sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">And he steadfastly smoked till Jane wished him dead,</div> - <div class="i1">As she bitterly thought of the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">He chaffed the girl thus: "When you makes my bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And smoothes down my lonely pillow,</div> - <div class="i0">Don't you go for a stranger, nor wish me dead,</div> - <div class="i1">If you don't want to wear the willow."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly he talked when the "spirits" were gone,</div> - <div class="i1">For pipe-ashes why should she upbraid him?</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'd spy if she'd let him smoke on,</div> - <div class="i1">In the bed where Britannia had laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of the tyrant's task was done,</div> - <div class="i1">When the clock told the hour for retiring;</div> - <div class="i0">The minion quailed at the sound of the gun,</div> - <div class="i1">Which to signal her triumph was firing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Of that spinster householder martyr's crown,</div> - <div class="i1">O, never shall perish the story:</div> - <div class="i0">Her friends paid her taxes, she had the renown—</div> - <div class="i1">Thus we leave her alone in her glory!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">J. M<span class="smcapa">C</span>G<span class="smcapa">RIGOR</span> A<span class="smcapa">LLAN</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>All the above are from <em>Truth</em>, July 31, 1884.</p> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">URDER OF A</span> B<span class="smcapa">EETHOVEN</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONATA</span>.</h3> - -<p class="center">(Executed by Miss——)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">S<span class="smcapa">UCH</span> a strum was heard—not a single right note,</div> - <div class="i1">When to make you play every one worried;</div> - <div class="i0">Yet I would not discharge one satirical shot</div> - <div class="i1">As to the piano you hurried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">You hurried so quickly, 'twas scarcely right,</div> - <div class="i1">I knew not the piece you'd been learning;</div> - <div class="i0">But I saw by the flickering candle-light</div> - <div class="i1">Your cheeks were with nervousness burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless music encumbered the rest;</div> - <div class="i1">No pieces had any one found you;</div> - <div class="i0">But you played it by heart, no doubt doing your best,</div> - <div class="i1">Though the people would talk around you.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dreary and long was the thing you played,</div> - <div class="i1">And we listened in suffering sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">And I thought to myself that, if any one stayed,</div> - <div class="i1">You'd have finished, no doubt, by the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they'll talk of the piece when it's done,</div> - <div class="i1">And wonder whoe'er could have made it;</div> - <div class="i0">But nothing she'll reck if they let her strum on</div> - <div class="i1">At the piece till she's thoroughly played it.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">When you'd made but some fifty mistakes, or more,</div> - <div class="i1">And no more such torture requiring,</div> - <div class="i0">I managed to get to the open door,</div> - <div class="i1">And succeeded in quickly retiring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">I've but one thing more in conclusion to say,</div> - <div class="i1">Though you no doubt will think it a story;</div> - <div class="i0">'Tis this, that no matter wherever you play,</div> - <div class="i1">You will get neither money nor glory!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">M<span class="smcapa">OZART.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> B<span class="smcapa">URIAL OF THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">AUPER</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a knell was heard, not a requiem note,</div> - <div class="i1">As his corpse to the churchyard we hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a mourner had donned his sable coat,</div> - <div class="i1">By the grave where our pauper we buried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We buried him quickly at shut of night,</div> - <div class="i1">The sods with our keen shovels turning;</div> - <div class="i0">By the closing day's last glimmering light,</div> - <div class="i1">And the lantern palely burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No oaken coffin enclosed his breast,</div> - <div class="i1">In a sheet for a shroud we wound him:</div> - <div class="i0">And he lay as a pauper should, taking his rest,</div> - <div class="i1">With his four deal planks nailed around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the prayers we said,</div> - <div class="i1">And we shed not a tear of sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">But we carelessly looked on the face of the dead,</div> - <div class="i1">And we heedlessly thought of the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And smooth'd down its green turf billow;</div> - <div class="i0">That haply a stranger would lay a wan head</div> - <div class="i1">To-night on his tenantless pillow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they'll talk of the poor soul that's gone</div> - <div class="i1">At the "House," and maybe they'll upbraid him,</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on</div> - <div class="i1">In the grave where his parish has laid him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of our thankless job was done,</div> - <div class="i1">When the cold sky grew sullen and low'ring;</div> - <div class="i0">And the raindrops came pattering one by one,</div> - <div class="i1">And soon all the heavens were pouring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Swiftly and smoothly we sodded him down,</div> - <div class="i1">In his last bed of shame, gaunt and hoary;</div> - <div class="i0">We raised not a cross, and we scored not a stone,</div> - <div class="i1">But we left him to earth with his story.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">S<span class="smcapa">EFTON.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"These gentlemen (the Tory party) can really get no -sleep at night, owing to their burning anxiety to enfranchise -their fellow men."—<em>Vide</em> Sir Wilfrid Lawson's Speech.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a snore was heard, not a slumberous note,</div> - <div class="i1">For my Lords are too awfully worried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a Peer but bewails the Bill's sad lot,</div> - <div class="i1">Tho' he feels that it musn't be hurried.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They think of it sadly, at dead of night,</div> - <div class="i1">The thing in their mind's eye turning,</div> - <div class="i0">By the somewhat foggy, misty light</div> - <div class="i1">In their noble bosoms burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless logic confused their heads,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis but little they ever heed it;</div> - <div class="i0">But they tossed and they turned on their sleepless beds,</div> - <div class="i1">And one and all they d——d it.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Few and short were the prayers they said"—</div> - <div class="i1">The fact I record with sorrow;</div> - <div class="i0">They thought of the day when the Bill would be read,</div> - <div class="i1">And they wished there were <em>no</em> to-morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">They thought of the words Mr. Gladstone had said—</div> - <div class="i1">Each word was a thorn in their pillow—</div> - <div class="i0">Of laurels that still would encircle <em>his</em> head,</div> - <div class="i1">While they would be wearing the willow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Nightly they burn for their brothers to be</div> - <div class="i1">Enfranchised, as they would have made 'em;</div> - <div class="i0">And little they'll reck, till the "rustic" be free,</div> - <div class="i1">Of how a cold world may upbraid 'em.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of the weary night was gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And my Lords were still busy enquiring,</div> - <div class="i0">"The deuce, now! the deuce! what IS to be done?</div> - <div class="i1">And they found that the effort was tiring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly they laid them down,</div> - <div class="i1">And they murmured the old, old story,</div> - <div class="i0">"We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,</div> - <div class="i1">But we MUST have a share in the glory!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i15">D<span class="smcapa">ARBY</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>A M<span class="smcapa">EMBER OF A</span> D<span class="smcapa">EFEATED</span> C<span class="smcapa">RICKET</span> E<span class="smcapa">LEVEN</span> <em>loq.</em></h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a ball was missed, not a catch uncaught,</div> - <div class="i1">As the course 'tween the wickets we scurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a fielder but was a famous shot,</div> - <div class="i1">At the stumps, whither, backward, we hurried,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We slogged the ball wildly with all our might,</div> - <div class="i1">The sods with our willow-bats turning:</div> - <div class="i0">But the leather was caught, and held so tight,</div> - <div class="i1">And our cheeks with shame were burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless figures my scoring blest,</div> - <div class="i1">Not in cut or in drive I found them;</div> - <div class="i0">But they lay like the egg of the duck in a nest,</div> - <div class="i1">With a line drawn all around them.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few, too few, were the runs we could claim,</div> - <div class="i1">And we spoke many words of sorrow,</div> - <div class="i0">And we steadfastly gazed on the state of the game,</div> - <div class="i1">As we bitterly thought of the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought as we watched how our wickets fell,</div> - <div class="i1">And reckoned the meagre scoring,</div> - <div class="i0">That the foe and the stranger would thrash us all well,</div> - <div class="i1">And we, far behind them, deploring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly they'll think of the runs we've put on,</div> - <div class="i1">And o'er a cold luncheon upbraid us;</div> - <div class="i0">But little we'd reck if bad weather came on,</div> - <div class="i1">And the rain further playing forbade us.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But half of our heavy task was done,</div> - <div class="i1">When the clock struck the hour for refraining;</div> - <div class="i0">And we saw by the distant and setting sun,</div> - <div class="i1">That the light was steadily waning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly did we disappear,</div> - <div class="i1">From the field of our shame-laden story;</div> - <div class="i0">We gave not a groan, we raised not a cheer,</div> - <div class="i1">But we left them alone to their glory.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">F<span class="smcapa">RIAR</span> T<span class="smcapa">UCK</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The above are from <em>Truth</em>, August 7, 1884.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> M<span class="smcapa">ARRIAGE OF</span> S<span class="smcapa">IR</span> J<span class="smcapa">OHN</span> S<span class="smcapa">MITH</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">N<span class="smcapa">OT</span> a sigh was heard, nor a funeral tone,</div> - <div class="i1">As the man to his bridal we hurried;</div> - <div class="i0">Not a woman discharged her farewell groan,</div> - <div class="i1">On the spot where the fellow was married.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We married him just about eight at night,</div> - <div class="i1">Our faces paler turning,</div> - <div class="i0">By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,</div> - <div class="i1">And the gas-lamp's steady burning.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">No useless watch-chain covered his vest,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor over-dressed we found him;</div> - <div class="i0">But he looked like a gentleman wearing his best,</div> - <div class="i1">With a few of his friends around him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Few and short were the things we said,</div> - <div class="i1">And we spoke not a word of sorrow,</div> - <div class="i0">But we silently gazed on the man that was wed,</div> - <div class="i1">And we bitterly thought of the morrow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">We thought, as we silently stood about,</div> - <div class="i1">With spite and anger dying,</div> - <div class="i0">How the merest stranger had cut us out,</div> - <div class="i1">With only half our trying.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Lightly we'll talk of the fellow that's gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And oft for the past upbraid him;</div> - <div class="i0">But little he'll reck if we let him live on,</div> - <div class="i1">In the house where his wife conveyed him.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But our heavy task at length was done,</div> - <div class="i1">When the clock struck the hour for retiring;</div> - <div class="i0">And we heard the spiteful squib and pun</div> - <div class="i1">The girls were sullenly firing.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Slowly and sadly we turned to go,—</div> - <div class="i1">We had struggled, and we were human;</div> - <div class="i0">We shed not a tear, and we spoke not our woe,</div> - <div class="i1">But we left him alone with his woman.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10"><em>Poems and Parodies</em>, by Phœbe Carey.</div> - <div class="i11">Boston, United States, 1854.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<blockquote> - -<p>We buried him slyly on Monday night, the sods with our -shooting-sticks turning, for he wrote a new poem, and -read it with might, in spite of the Editor's warning.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="center">Q<span class="smcapa">UADS.</span></p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - - -<h2>Thomas Hood.</h2> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> H<span class="smcapa">ORSE</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> shins all hash'd and torn,</div> - <div class="i1">With carcases skin and bone,</div> - <div class="i0">Two nags with a 'bus hung on at the square,</div> - <div class="i1">With hunger almost gone—</div> - <div class="i0">"Ya hip—hip—hip!"</div> - <div class="i1">Shouted one on the dicky borne,</div> - <div class="i0">"Should we pick up a fare now, my five-year-olds,</div> - <div class="i1">To-morrow you <em>may</em> get corn."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Trot, trot, trot!</div> - <div class="i0">Till our giddy brains run round!</div> - <div class="i1">Trot, trot, trot!</div> - <div class="i0">And that on Christian ground!</div> - <div class="i1">Run, gallop, and trot,</div> - <div class="i2">Trot, gallop, and run,</div> - <div class="i0">Till we weary and weary over again</div> - <div class="i1">That our dreadful task were done.</div> - <div class="i0">O! others of our race</div> - <div class="i1">More favoured than we two!</div> - <div class="i0">You little think in your day of grace,</div> - <div class="i1">That this fate may come to you!</div> - <div class="i2">Soft, soft, soft!</div> - <div class="i0">You sleep without a throe!</div> - <div class="i1">Hard, hard, hard!</div> - <div class="i0">We struggle through drifted snow!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">(<em>Eight verses omitted</em>).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">J. M. C<span class="smcapa">RAWFORD</span>, Greenock, March, 1844.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Many years ago <em>The New York Herald</em> had a -long parody of the "Song of the Shirt," entitled -<em>The Lament of Ashland</em>. It commenced:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> brows all clammy and cold,</div> - <div class="i1">With face all haggard and wan,</div> - <div class="i0">The "Hero of Bladensburgh" sat in his chair,</div> - <div class="i1">And uttered a fearful groan;</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> - <div class="i0">Wake, wake, wake!</div> - <div class="i1">Ye Whigs from your drowsy bed;</div> - <div class="i0">And wake, wake, wake!</div> - <div class="i1">Ere my hopes are all perished and fled."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>There were seven more verses, but as the -parody was of purely local interest, they are not -here quoted.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">OST</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> "Bluchers" cobbled and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With post-bag heavy alway,</div> - <div class="i0">A postman tramped on his twentieth round,</div> - <div class="i1">On good St. Valentine's day.</div> - <div class="i0">Rat-tat! rat! tat!</div> - <div class="i1">At every knocker almost,</div> - <div class="i0">Each time, in a voice that was somewhat flat,</div> - <div class="i1">He sang the "Song of the Post!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Tramp! tramp! tramp!</div> - <div class="i1">When the sweep is up the flue;</div> - <div class="i0">And tramp! tramp! tramp!</div> - <div class="i1">Till the supper beer is due.</div> - <div class="i0">It's oh! to be a slave,</div> - <div class="i1">Along with the barbarous Turk,</div> - <div class="i0">Where Scudamore can verse outpour</div> - <div class="i1">For Britons, besides his work!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Trudge! trudge! trudge!</div> - <div class="i1">Till I'm trodden down at heel;</div> - <div class="i0">Trudge! trudge! trudge!</div> - <div class="i1">Till I'm faint for want of a meal.</div> - <div class="i0">Bell, and knocker, and box,</div> - <div class="i1">Box, and knocker, and bell;</div> - <div class="i0">Till over the letters I all but nod,</div> - <div class="i1">And drop them in a spell.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh, girls with lovers fond!</div> - <div class="i1">Oh, men who want to get wives!</div> - <div class="i0">It's not a mere custom you're keeping up;</div> - <div class="i1">You're wearing out postmen's lives!</div> - <div class="i0">If you must send Valentines,</div> - <div class="i1">Don't post them by tens and twelves;</div> - <div class="i0">Or, if you do, I would pray of you</div> - <div class="i1">To deliver them yourselves!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">But why do I pray of you,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose hearts so hard must be,</div> - <div class="i0">Since your scented rhymes you'll not post betimes,</div> - <div class="i1">In spite of Lord M—'s decree?</div> - <div class="i0">In spite of Lord M—'s decree,</div> - <div class="i1">In your tardy ways you keep;</div> - <div class="i0">Oh, crime! that boots should be so dear,</div> - <div class="i1">And Valentines so cheap!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Tramp! tramp! tramp!</div> - <div class="i1">Through street, and terrace, and square.</div> - <div class="i0">Rap! rap! rap!</div> - <div class="i1">Valentines everywhere!</div> - <div class="i0">Maid, and master, and miss,</div> - <div class="i1">Miss, and master, and maid;</div> - <div class="i0">There are some for them all, as they come at the call</div> - <div class="i1">Of the knocker, so long delayed.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">There's none too poor or base</div> - <div class="i1">A Valentine to send—</div> - <div class="i0">A halfpenny buys an ugly one</div> - <div class="i1">That will serve to spite a friend.</div> - <div class="i0">They are sent by the high and the low—</div> - <div class="i1">By the noble, and many a scamp,</div> - <div class="i0">Who has to steal the envelope,</div> - <div class="i1">And cadge for the penny stamp!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! could I but finish my task!</div> - <div class="i1">That I for my <em>feet</em> might care,</div> - <div class="i0">And my neck that's gall'd by the heavy weight,</div> - <div class="i1">I've had this day to bear.</div> - <div class="i0">Oh! but for one short hour,</div> - <div class="i1">To feel as I used to feel,</div> - <div class="i0">Before I'd developed such terrible corns,</div> - <div class="i1">Or was trodden so down at heel.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With "Bluchers" cobbled and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With post-bag heavy alway,</div> - <div class="i0">A postman tramped on his twentieth round,</div> - <div class="i1">On good St. Valentine's day.</div> - <div class="i0">Rat-tat! tat! tat!</div> - <div class="i1">At every knocker almost;</div> - <div class="i0">And still, in a voice that was somewhat flat,</div> - <div class="i0">(Many wondered whate'er he was at),</div> - <div class="i1">He sang the "Song of the Post!"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">(<em>Fourteen verses in all</em>).</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Truth</em>, February 8, 1877.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> D<span class="smcapa">ANCE</span>.</h3> - -<p>"It really seems the ambition of each fashionable woman -to render her dress more like a skin than that of her neighbour, -besides exhibiting as large a portion of the real flesh as -can be done without the apology for raiment absolutely -dropping off!"—<em>The World</em>, January 31, 1877.</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> arms a-wearied of fanning herself,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids heavy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A wallflower sat on a stiff-backed chair,</div> - <div class="i1">Wishing herself in bed.</div> - <div class="i1">Turn, twirl, and turn,</div> - <div class="i0">With hop, with glide, and prance;</div> - <div class="i1">And still, as she sleepily gazed on that throng,</div> - <div class="i0">She muttered the "Song of the Dance."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dance, dance, dance,</div> - <div class="i1">Till I hear the milkman's cry;</div> - <div class="i0">Dance, dance, dance,</div> - <div class="i1">Till the sun is seen on high.</div> - <div class="i1">It's O to be a nigger,</div> - <div class="i0">Nor mind to clothless feel,</div> - <div class="i1">If civilised folk will try how little</div> - <div class="i0">They need their bodies conceal!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dance, dance, dance,</div> - <div class="i1">Till the heat is horrid to bear;</div> - <div class="i0">Dance, dance, dance,</div> - <div class="i1">Till I long for a cushioned chair.</div> - <div class="i1">Waltz, gallop, and waltz;</div> - <div class="i0">A lancer, a stray quadrille,</div> - <div class="i1">Till the whirl and the music make me doze,</div> - <div class="i0">And dreaming I watch them still.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">O men with wives and sisters,</div> - <div class="i1">Have ye no eyes to see</div> - <div class="i0">That the scanty dress of the ballet-girl</div> - <div class="i1">By your kin ne'er worn should be?</div> - <div class="i0">Twirl, turn, and twirl;</div> - <div class="i1">Morality, where art thou?</div> - <div class="i0">The dance and the dress of the stage—and worse—</div> - <div class="i1">Are those of the ball-room now!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> - <div class="i0">But why do I talk of morality</div> - <div class="i1">Since Fashion its morals makes?</div> - <div class="i0">What Fashion does is never wrong,</div> - <div class="i1">So Purity never quakes.</div> - <div class="i1">For Purity only takes</div> - <div class="i0">Her sip of the cup that Fashion fills;</div> - <div class="i1">And we know that cup is made of gold,</div> - <div class="i0">And that gold will cover a thousand ills.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dance, dance, dance;</div> - <div class="i1">They never tired appear:</div> - <div class="i0">And all in hopes that a wished-for vow,</div> - <div class="i1">May fall on their foolish ear,</div> - <div class="i0">Alas, how the morn will show,</div> - <div class="i1">The work of the midnight air;</div> - <div class="i0">And the paint will trace on many a face,</div> - <div class="i1">And show false locks of hair!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Dance, dance, dance;</div> - <div class="i1">How sweetly they keep time,</div> - <div class="i0">As they dance, dance, dance,</div> - <div class="i1">In a measure quite sublime!</div> - <div class="i0">They waltz, waltz, waltz,</div> - <div class="i1">Keep time to the glorious band;</div> - <div class="i0">But, ah! there is many a blushing look,</div> - <div class="i1">And pressure of many a hand!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Thus wearied out with fanning herself,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids heavy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">This wallflower sat on a stiff-backed chair,</div> - <div class="i1">Wishing herself in bed.</div> - <div class="i0">While all were swinging with turn and twirl,</div> - <div class="i1">With hop, and glide, and prance,</div> - <div class="i0">She muttered this song to herself, and said,</div> - <div class="i0">"Alas", where is morality fled,</div> - <div class="i1">Since true is my "Song of the Dance?"</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i10">C<span class="smcapa">ECIL</span> M<span class="smcapa">AXWELL</span> L<span class="smcapa">YTE</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><em>London Society</em>, November, 1877.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> S<span class="smcapa">OLDIER'S</span> S<span class="smcapa">HIRT</span>.</h3> - -<p>(In 1879 it was announced that the wages of the women -working at the Army Clothing Department, Pimlico, had -been reduced from 20 to 25 per cent.)</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> fingers weary and worn,</div> - <div class="i1">With eyelids heavy and red,</div> - <div class="i0">A woman sat 'neath a Government roof,</div> - <div class="i1">Plying her needle and thread.</div> - <div class="i0">As she stitch'd, stitch'd, stitch'd,</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas plain she was most expert;</div> - <div class="i0">And she sang to herself in a voice low-pitch'd,</div> - <div class="i1">The "Song of the Soldier's Shirt."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">There's no rest in youth or age!</div> - <div class="i0">And alas! I have now to work</div> - <div class="i1">For a cruelly lessen'd wage!</div> - <div class="i0">I sit at my task all day,</div> - <div class="i1">And never my duty shirk,</div> - <div class="i0">But slop-shop prices would better pay</div> - <div class="i1">Than this cheap Government work.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Work! work! work!</div> - <div class="i1">My labour never flags,</div> - <div class="i0">And yet with my pittance I scarce can buy</div> - <div class="i1">A crust of bread—and rags.</div> - <div class="i0">I work for the greatest Power,</div> - <div class="i1">That ever the world has known,</div> - <div class="i0">Yet my pay's so small that I cannot call</div> - <div class="i1">My body and soul my own.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Oh! is there no other way</div> - <div class="i1">Of bringing expenditure down?</div> - <div class="i0">Must they needs reduce <em>our</em> paltry pay</div> - <div class="i1">Of all who serve the Crown?</div> - <div class="i0">Heaven grant that they yet may see</div> - <div class="i1">Some way the wrong to redress,</div> - <div class="i0">For every penny they take from me</div> - <div class="i1">Means a slice of bread the less!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">* * * *</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">As she stitch'd, stitch'd, stitch'd,</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas plain she was most expert;</div> - <div class="i0">And she sang in a voice that was low and sweet</div> - <div class="i0">(Oh! that it may reach to Downing Street!)</div> - <div class="i1">This "Song of the Soldier's Shirt."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12"><em>Truth</em>, May 1, 1879.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<h3>T<span class="smcapa">HE</span> S<span class="smcapa">ONG OF THE</span> P<span class="smcapa">EN</span>.</h3> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">W<span class="smcapa">ITH</span> a weary, swimming brain,</div> - <div class="i1">With a throbbing aching head,</div> - <div class="i0">Sat a newspaper hack in his garret lone,</div> - <div class="i1">Driving a goose-quill for bread.</div> - <div class="i0">A well-smoked briar was in his hand,</div> - <div class="i1">He'd filled it again and again,</div> - <div class="i0">And between the whiffs, in a quavering voice,</div> - <div class="i1">He sang this "Song of the Pen."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Write! write! write!</div> - <div class="i1">Though my head is ready to split;</div> - <div class="i0">Write! write! write!</div> - <div class="i1">Though I fall asleep as I sit.</div> - <div class="i0">Write! write! write!</div> - <div class="i1">When the summer sun is high!</div> - <div class="i0">Write! write! write!</div> - <div class="i1">When the stars light up the sky.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Write! write! write!</div> - <div class="i1">For my pen must never tire;</div> - <div class="i0">First I've a railway smash to do,</div> - <div class="i1">And then the report of a fire.</div> - <div class="i0">I must put in a word of praise for those</div> - <div class="i1">Who rendered efficient aid;</div> - <div class="i0">And, if time enough, I must give a puff,</div> - <div class="i1">To the chief of the Fire Brigade.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Write! write! write!</div> - <div class="i1">I'd need be a writing machine;</div> - <div class="i0">For unlike the workers on <em>Once a Week</em>,</div> - <div class="i1">I've no Leisure Hour between,</div> - <div class="i0">But it's write! write! write!</div> - <div class="i1">Though my inkstand is nearly dry,</div> - <div class="i0">Like a government office, I must contract</div> - <div class="i1">With M<span class="smcapa">ORRELL</span> for a fresh supply.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Now I must haste to the gallows tree,</div> - <div class="i1">To see them strangle a sinner;</div> - <div class="i0">And write a report the saints may read,</div> - <div class="i1">As they take their breakfast or dinner.</div> - <div class="i0">Then concoct a puff for some wonderful pill,</div> - <div class="i1">Or marvellous sarsaparilla;</div> - <div class="i0">And hurry away to hear P<span class="smcapa">UNSHON</span> preach,</div> - <div class="i1">Or S<span class="smcapa">PURGEON</span> on the gorilla.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="i6">(<em>Three verses omitted.</em>)</div> - - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">With a weary, swimming brain,</div> - <div class="i1">With a throbbing, aching head,</div> - <div class="i0">Sat a newspaper hack in his garret lone,</div> - <div class="i1">Driving a goose-quill for bread.</div> - <div class="i0">Write! write! write!</div> - <div class="i1">They're asking for "copy" again;</div> - <div class="i0">While his goose-quill over the foolscap flew,</div> - <div class="i0">He thought of the troubles each author knew,</div> - <div class="i1">And sang this "Song of the Pen."</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">A<span class="smcapa">NONYMOUS</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The song in <em>Enid</em>, here alluded to, runs thus:—</p> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">Turn, fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;</div> - <div class="i0">Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm and cloud;</div> - <div class="i1">Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.</div> - <div class="i2">* <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span> <span class="mleft4">*</span></div> - <div class="i2">Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;</div> - <div class="i2">Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;</div> - <div class="i3">For man is man and master of his fate.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;</div> - <div class="i2">Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;</div> - <div class="i3">Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> A room for each man, and plenty of excellent provisions were -amongst the inducements held out to the deluded victims who enlisted -in the Papal Brigade to fight against Italian unity.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <em>Apropos</em> of the clamorous meeting of the Clergy, in Freemason's -Hall, December, 1868, the Archbishop of York in the Chair. 1439 votes -were recorded at the division.</p></div> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> This appears to be a covert allusion to the lady-bird.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> We shall not publish the vocabulary with this song.—E<span class="smcapa">D.</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> "Bonnie Jean's" maiden name.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Corpses.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> To shoot.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Alluding to Napoleon III.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Suggested by a paragraph in <em>The Times</em>, November, 1859.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> The Lawn Tennis Annual.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Sir Peter Laurie had endeavoured to put down the sale of plaster -casts of nude figures by the Italian image boys in the streets.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Lord John Russell.</p></div> - -</div> - - -<div class="transnote"> -<h5>Transcriber notes:</h5> - -<p>P. <a href="#Page_4">4</a>. 'Athough this poem' changed 'Athough' to Although'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_5">5</a>. 'See hears' changed 'See' to 'She'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_7">7</a>. 'well know song', changed 'know' to 'known'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_10">10</a>. 'thinks on earth', changed 'thinks' to 'things'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_13">13</a>. 'it this were done?" changed 'it' to 'if'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. 'In Memmoriam', changed 'Memmoriam' to 'Memoriam'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_33">33</a>. 'Note... Robort Southey', changed 'Robort' to 'Robert'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_38">38</a>. 'Bold y he spoke,' changed 'Bold y' to 'Boldly'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_41">41</a>. 'baek to' changed to 'back to'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_62">62</a>. 'On greening glass', changed 'glass' to 'grass'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_64">64</a>. 'Leattle Intelligencer' changed to 'Seattle Intelligencer'.<br /> -p. <a href="#Page_78">78</a>. 'corpuleut' changed to 'corpulent'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. 'On your poor occiput alight, We fell so sore!', changed 'fell' to 'felt'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_95">95</a>. Completed the poem with a full-stop "In these lines replies discover.", rather than a semi-colon.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_98">98</a>. 'Le me cross', change 'Le' to 'Let'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_108">108</a>. 'a corse' changed to 'a corpse'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_119">119</a>. 'late Ssssion', changed 'Ssssion' to 'Session'.<br /> -P. <a href="#Page_156">156</a>. Last stanza of poem, 'Promise May', changed to 'Promise of May'.<br /> -Fixed various punctuation.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Parodies of the Works of English and -American Authors, Vol I, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARODIES *** - -***** This file should be named 62396-h.htm or 62396-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/3/9/62396/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Jane Robins and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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