 | Heliconundrums |  |
I know by the smoke all so gracefully curl'd
Round the mouth o' the meerschaum that Lone Jack is lit,
And I say, if there's peace to be found in the world
With a chimney that smokes, this is it! this is it!
And here, if the wine may have leave to come forth
We mad devils have brought into this blissful sphere,
We would pledge to our Host truest service and love,
And the same to our Hostess most charming and dear.
With leave, Tom! (Bull went on to say) I will move
(As he uncork'd the Clicquot) we start fair with this.
And I think you will own, if good wine's to be had,
Here it is! here it is!
And now, the snow-white damask spread,
The viands in fit order placed,
With Enoch at the table's head,
Tom at his right, the left side graced
By Madam — “next his heart”
(So Denis for his part
Apostrophising as the rest took seats),
They pass'd around the dainty meats,
The sandwiches of chaff and wine.
Admit the chaff is not cut fine:
Say badinage! when hearts are young
Some waggery's allow'd: the tongue
Serves as salt-cellar. While I prate
These chafferers empty every plate;
And having fully bribed their throats
Prepare for warbling. Take we notes!
Of course Bull must lay down the law.
The Scot remonstrates: Hoot awa!
Let me begin!
A hieland laddie I was born:
A' laaland laws I haud in scorn—
Denis breaks in—
Och! I was born in Liverpool,
And I hate the English laws,
For me father was an Irishman:
Shure I've the plinty cause.
Then Bull, half wroth, with look to make a pause,
Be hangd t' ye both! we'll have no politics.
Choose other singing! Denis! do you mix!
Perhaps Miss Belle will favour us the first
With her sweet voice? Whereat a general burst,
Applause! Miss Belle bow'd gracefully at this.
How came she of the party? I shall miss
Her song to tell. A winsome lassie she,
Like yet unlike her sister Queen: some see
No likeness, Belle being little, as yet slim:
If scant of fun, without caprice or whim,
And all straight-forward as an arrow is:
A maiden many have to love, I wis.—
Unhesitating, although used to sing,
She trill'd unquaveringly a pretty thing
Of love — a man's love-song: it is the way
Young virgins teach shy bachelors what to say.
That over, praised, Bull clear'd his ample throat,
And stuck his thumbs in sleeve-holes of his coat,
And closed his eyes, and lay back in his chair,
And gave as his opinion Jane was fair
But cruel, and his heart was breaking fast,
Nigh sixteen stone. And when that woe was past
Enoch, all asking, led a college chaunt sublime
(Writ by the Sage of Concord in the days
Of studious youth and more poetic haze):
How the Bull-Frog and the Squirrel
Had a quarrel, both one time.
'Twas a mountain of a bull-frog (quite an Og
Of Bashan, said our Englishman): the mess
Was Squirrel he was riled to be thought less
Than this mud-mounting bully of a frog.
But here's the strain:—
Bull-Frog and Squirrel, turn and turn again.
Round the mouth o' the meerschaum that Lone Jack is lit,
And I say, if there's peace to be found in the world
With a chimney that smokes, this is it! this is it!
And here, if the wine may have leave to come forth
We mad devils have brought into this blissful sphere,
We would pledge to our Host truest service and love,
And the same to our Hostess most charming and dear.
With leave, Tom! (Bull went on to say) I will move
(As he uncork'd the Clicquot) we start fair with this.
And I think you will own, if good wine's to be had,
Here it is! here it is!
75
The viands in fit order placed,
With Enoch at the table's head,
Tom at his right, the left side graced
By Madam — “next his heart”
(So Denis for his part
Apostrophising as the rest took seats),
They pass'd around the dainty meats,
The sandwiches of chaff and wine.
Admit the chaff is not cut fine:
Say badinage! when hearts are young
Some waggery's allow'd: the tongue
Serves as salt-cellar. While I prate
These chafferers empty every plate;
And having fully bribed their throats
Prepare for warbling. Take we notes!
Of course Bull must lay down the law.
The Scot remonstrates: Hoot awa!
Let me begin!
A hieland laddie I was born:
A' laaland laws I haud in scorn—
Denis breaks in—
Och! I was born in Liverpool,
And I hate the English laws,
For me father was an Irishman:
Shure I've the plinty cause.
Then Bull, half wroth, with look to make a pause,
Be hangd t' ye both! we'll have no politics.
Choose other singing! Denis! do you mix!
Perhaps Miss Belle will favour us the first
76
Applause! Miss Belle bow'd gracefully at this.
How came she of the party? I shall miss
Her song to tell. A winsome lassie she,
Like yet unlike her sister Queen: some see
No likeness, Belle being little, as yet slim:
If scant of fun, without caprice or whim,
And all straight-forward as an arrow is:
A maiden many have to love, I wis.—
Unhesitating, although used to sing,
She trill'd unquaveringly a pretty thing
Of love — a man's love-song: it is the way
Young virgins teach shy bachelors what to say.
That over, praised, Bull clear'd his ample throat,
And stuck his thumbs in sleeve-holes of his coat,
And closed his eyes, and lay back in his chair,
And gave as his opinion Jane was fair
But cruel, and his heart was breaking fast,
Nigh sixteen stone. And when that woe was past
Enoch, all asking, led a college chaunt sublime
(Writ by the Sage of Concord in the days
Of studious youth and more poetic haze):
How the Bull-Frog and the Squirrel
Had a quarrel, both one time.
'Twas a mountain of a bull-frog (quite an Og
Of Bashan, said our Englishman): the mess
Was Squirrel he was riled to be thought less
Than this mud-mounting bully of a frog.
But here's the strain:—
Bull-Frog and Squirrel, turn and turn again.
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