University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Poems

By Alfred Domett
  
  

collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
SCENE III.
  
expand section 
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
expand section 
  
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
  
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


34

SCENE III.

The School. A Disciple of Socrates. Strepsiades Knocking.
Disc.
Go to the devil with you! who is't knocking?

Streps.
'Tis one Strepsiades, from Cicynna.

Disc.
Some snob, by Jove! some rude, unpolished clown,
Who thus unheedfully exerts his heels
To batter the reverberating door,
And brings miscarriage on the labouring brain,
Abortiveness on its sublime conception!

Streps.
Beg pardon, sir—I live a long way off;
But say, what was the thing that so miscarried?

Disc.
Inhibited is speech except with scholars.

Streps.
Ne'er fear to speak to me, then! I am come
A sort of scholar to the school myself!

Disc.
I will expound then—fitting 'tis you learn
And be initiated in the mysteries.
Socrates had inquired of Chœrephon
As to a flea—how many of its paces
He thought a flea could leap; for one just then,
With morsure satiated of Chœrephon,
Had vaulted to the occiput of Socrates.

Streps.
And did he measure them?

Disc.
Oh, beautifully!
Of wax he chose a lump—which first exposed

35

To due proportion of caloric, he
With nice precision liquefied; and then
Grasping the little insect by the back,
Deep into the mass its legs the sage immersed.
There fitting time he held him, till the wax
Its pristine state of density resumed.
Forth then he drew the flea; and then, observe
The bright effects of skill—its legs were cased
In Persian boots—such boots as ladies wear;
He pulled these off, and measured them, and thus
The size of the flea's sole exactly hit on.

Streps.
By Jupiter! the 'cuteness of the thing!

Disc.
Oh! if you knew another demonstration
Of Socrates!

Streps.
I pr'ythee say, what was it?

Disc.
Chœrephon proposed to him concerning gnats,
As to which theory he most inclined:
Whether their powers cantatory reside,
Or in their heads, or haply in their tails?

Streps.
And what was his idea about the gnat?

Disc.
He said that the intestinal canal
Is narrow in the gnat—that through its form
So slender, trumpet-like, cylindrical,
The irruent atmospheric fiercely rushes—

36

That its momentum meets caudine compression
And forth results mysterious melody.

Streps.
The gnat, then, wears his horn upon his tail,
Not on his head, like other animals—
But oh! thrice happy he, supremely blest,
In power of intestine-explication!
How would he slip the clutches of a bailiff,
To justice give the go-bye, and escape
The meshes of the law—who can discern
The twinings of the ileum of a gnat!

 

Is there not, in the original, though not to the degree insisted on in the translation, a clownish bluntness about the thoughts and expressions of the countryman, contrasted with a preciseness and pompous verbosity in those of the student?