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A MERRY HOUR.
[_]
A. E. Sloan, Esq., of Cincinnati, delivered a course of three lectures, entitled “Merry Hours.” In advance of the course he selected the names of several persons and things which would be incidentally introduced in the lectures, and requested Dr. Smith to write for him, for his use, the prelude to each lecture. The notice was very sudden; but the impromptu responses are given below, as illustrations of the versatility of the poet, in “Mirthful Moments.”
Humorous Fragments, No. 1.
Lend your ears, gentle friends, throw your business aside,
“Tom Pidger” is going to trot out “his bride;”
On my word, you shall learn, drawn true to the life,
'Mid the frolic and fun, what makes “a good wife;”
Or lawyer's, or “minister's,” even your own,—
(Aside) if your willing to yield her your throne.
“Tom Pidger” is going to trot out “his bride;”
On my word, you shall learn, drawn true to the life,
'Mid the frolic and fun, what makes “a good wife;”
Or lawyer's, or “minister's,” even your own,—
(Aside) if your willing to yield her your throne.
If you 've done “Saratoga,” and drunk of its water,
On a trip with your wife, or your merry-tongued daughter;
If you've been at the seashore, where morals grow lax;
Or learned “early rising” from witty “J. Saxe,”—
I'll warrant you need, after such relaxation,
Some muscular fun, before your vocation
You ply, like an engine, through snow, sleet, and rain,
And buckle to labor and business again.
So smooth out the creases that furrow your brow,
While, juicy as apples just plucked from the bough,
I strive, gentle friends, to the best of my power,
To give, as per program, a right “merry hour.”
On a trip with your wife, or your merry-tongued daughter;
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Or learned “early rising” from witty “J. Saxe,”—
I'll warrant you need, after such relaxation,
Some muscular fun, before your vocation
You ply, like an engine, through snow, sleet, and rain,
And buckle to labor and business again.
So smooth out the creases that furrow your brow,
While, juicy as apples just plucked from the bough,
I strive, gentle friends, to the best of my power,
To give, as per program, a right “merry hour.”
Humorous Fragments, No. 2.
If I should open here at once, and empty all my budget,
Like some rich mine of gold, condensed in one enormous nugget,—
Talk in one breath of courtship, love, and ardor patriotic,
Mixing, like old Egyptian priests, hieratic and demotic,—
Your sides would shake, your brain would ache amid the varied clatter,
And echoes ring from all the hall, “Good, sir, what is the matter?”
Like some rich mine of gold, condensed in one enormous nugget,—
Talk in one breath of courtship, love, and ardor patriotic,
Mixing, like old Egyptian priests, hieratic and demotic,—
Your sides would shake, your brain would ache amid the varied clatter,
And echoes ring from all the hall, “Good, sir, what is the matter?”
So, mindful of your ease, I choose to give you in detail,—
Just as your daily letters, friend, come one by one by mail,—
How “Mr. Winkle” sought “the springs” where wit and beauty fed;
And “Pickwick at the Ipswich Inn” once missed his way to bed;
And Wendell Holmes, the autocrat,—his wit put under ban,—
Resolved, “I never more shall dare be witty as I can.”
Perhaps, to try another strain, and prove its potent magic,
My rendering of “Clarence' Dream,” will give you a touch of tragic.
So here you have a program true,—not baseless as false rumor,—
Apply your ears and you shall hear “fragments of wit and humor.”
Just as your daily letters, friend, come one by one by mail,—
How “Mr. Winkle” sought “the springs” where wit and beauty fed;
And “Pickwick at the Ipswich Inn” once missed his way to bed;
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Resolved, “I never more shall dare be witty as I can.”
Perhaps, to try another strain, and prove its potent magic,
My rendering of “Clarence' Dream,” will give you a touch of tragic.
So here you have a program true,—not baseless as false rumor,—
Apply your ears and you shall hear “fragments of wit and humor.”
Humorous Fragments, No. 3.
The light and dark, the grave and gay, make up the round of life;
Pathetic scenes and mirthful hours,—now rest, now battle's strife.
Chiefly in merry mood my steps from scene to scene shall roam;
A tear may dampen on your lids for the “dear folks at home;”
You needs must hear how “Harry Fifth” manœuvred for “his wife;”
And roguish Kate, with cunning grace, worried the Prince's life.
There 's something sweet in early “love;” I think you've found it so;
Some, in its budding promise yet,—some knew it long ago.
Sometimes the sly, winged Cupid puts a sting within your marrow;
But oftener smitten hearts declare, there's honey on his arrow.
Soho! you speak of “Yankee Land,” a noble country, truly;
I quite agree with you, my friend, I mean to praise it duly.
Amid the wealth of sea and soil, republic, kingdom, throne,
This gem of all the nations gleams, a diamond set alone.
You thought of courtship when I spoke just now of Henry V.;
Now leave the ship and keep the court, take land instead of sea.
Pathetic scenes and mirthful hours,—now rest, now battle's strife.
Chiefly in merry mood my steps from scene to scene shall roam;
A tear may dampen on your lids for the “dear folks at home;”
You needs must hear how “Harry Fifth” manœuvred for “his wife;”
And roguish Kate, with cunning grace, worried the Prince's life.
There 's something sweet in early “love;” I think you've found it so;
Some, in its budding promise yet,—some knew it long ago.
Sometimes the sly, winged Cupid puts a sting within your marrow;
But oftener smitten hearts declare, there's honey on his arrow.
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I quite agree with you, my friend, I mean to praise it duly.
Amid the wealth of sea and soil, republic, kingdom, throne,
This gem of all the nations gleams, a diamond set alone.
You thought of courtship when I spoke just now of Henry V.;
Now leave the ship and keep the court, take land instead of sea.
Call up your jury, Sheriff B., and summon in the Court;
“Bardell and Pickwick's” case is reached,—so read the clerk's report.
This fills the docket, gentle friends: these petals make the flower;
Unfolding, one by one, their scent will fill the “merry hour.”
Unconsciously the sunlit sands will trickle through the glass,
While wit high carnival maintains, and “Mirthful Moments” pass.
“Bardell and Pickwick's” case is reached,—so read the clerk's report.
This fills the docket, gentle friends: these petals make the flower;
Unfolding, one by one, their scent will fill the “merry hour.”
Unconsciously the sunlit sands will trickle through the glass,
While wit high carnival maintains, and “Mirthful Moments” pass.
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