 | Heliconundrums |  |
Chief of the gang was Enoch, tall and dry,
Square-shoulder'd, hatchet-faced, lank-hair'd, and spry:
He said Vermont had raised him; others said
He was a right New-Yorker, thorough bred.
Wherever borh, a level head had he,
And spake outside his nose sonorously.
Not quite his height was Bull, but fleshier far,
And ruddy-cheek'd as Baldwin apples are,
With somewhat of a mid protuberance:
Yet was he strong and active, and could dance
With any girl, and sing in tones so sweet
Two or three bars would take you off your feet:
Well-featured, with curl'd hair of chestnut hue,
And all good in him like a chestnut too.
The third was a young German, Ernest call'd
By friends: he wore green spectacles, was bald,
And beardless, but full pleasant was his face,
With kind blue eyes his glasses did disgrace:
His figure short, much rounded, not ill-made:
Serene his look, and his demeanour staid,
And all unlike the Frenchman at his side,
Brave Monsieur Jean Belleisle, quick, lively-eyed,
And windmill-action'd when he 'gan to talk.
Three steps to Ernest's two he took in his walk,
Yet hardly kept pace with him. Behind them
Sandy McIvor came, a man of phlegm
And moods sarcastic,—but he mean'd no harm:
A hard dry-manner'd Scot, but with a warm
Leal spirit Always he was arm in arm
With Denis 'Shaughnessy, his other self,
His supplement: for Denis was an elf,
Frolicsome, careless, noisy, and o'errun
With mirth and jest and unrelenting fun,
As champagne flasks are overflow'd with froth.
Certes this boy had fun enough for both
Himself and Sawney: all with pure intent
And consciènce. He shouted as he went
And gambol'd like the Bedlamkin he was.
This was the jovial crowd that mean'd to pass
A quiet night with King, their old-time friend;
And, as the fashion bade, a grace to lend
To their intrusion, take with them their treat,
Some drink material, some odd things to eat:
Mere punkin-pies and strawberry-jam short-cake,
An oyster stew, and eke a fair clam-bake
(“Unseasonable,” but then for friendship's sake):
These their regalia. Beside these they bore
Crackers and cheese and goodies, a good store,
And fixins whereof rooster-tails are made,
Apples for Jack, and herald-like display'd
A mighty demijohn upheld on high
As if they thought to flout the temperate sky;
And from their pockets out-poked many a neck
Of bottles label'd variously. What reck
We of the labels till the corks are out?
Square-shoulder'd, hatchet-faced, lank-hair'd, and spry:
He said Vermont had raised him; others said
He was a right New-Yorker, thorough bred.
Wherever borh, a level head had he,
And spake outside his nose sonorously.
Not quite his height was Bull, but fleshier far,
71
With somewhat of a mid protuberance:
Yet was he strong and active, and could dance
With any girl, and sing in tones so sweet
Two or three bars would take you off your feet:
Well-featured, with curl'd hair of chestnut hue,
And all good in him like a chestnut too.
The third was a young German, Ernest call'd
By friends: he wore green spectacles, was bald,
And beardless, but full pleasant was his face,
With kind blue eyes his glasses did disgrace:
His figure short, much rounded, not ill-made:
Serene his look, and his demeanour staid,
And all unlike the Frenchman at his side,
Brave Monsieur Jean Belleisle, quick, lively-eyed,
And windmill-action'd when he 'gan to talk.
Three steps to Ernest's two he took in his walk,
Yet hardly kept pace with him. Behind them
Sandy McIvor came, a man of phlegm
And moods sarcastic,—but he mean'd no harm:
A hard dry-manner'd Scot, but with a warm
Leal spirit Always he was arm in arm
With Denis 'Shaughnessy, his other self,
His supplement: for Denis was an elf,
Frolicsome, careless, noisy, and o'errun
With mirth and jest and unrelenting fun,
As champagne flasks are overflow'd with froth.
Certes this boy had fun enough for both
Himself and Sawney: all with pure intent
And consciènce. He shouted as he went
72
This was the jovial crowd that mean'd to pass
A quiet night with King, their old-time friend;
And, as the fashion bade, a grace to lend
To their intrusion, take with them their treat,
Some drink material, some odd things to eat:
Mere punkin-pies and strawberry-jam short-cake,
An oyster stew, and eke a fair clam-bake
(“Unseasonable,” but then for friendship's sake):
These their regalia. Beside these they bore
Crackers and cheese and goodies, a good store,
And fixins whereof rooster-tails are made,
Apples for Jack, and herald-like display'd
A mighty demijohn upheld on high
As if they thought to flout the temperate sky;
And from their pockets out-poked many a neck
Of bottles label'd variously. What reck
We of the labels till the corks are out?
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