 | The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe |  |
POST-PRANDIAL VERSES.
RECITED AT THE FESTIVAL OF THE PSI UPSILON FRATERNITY, IN BOSTON, JULY 21, 1853.
Dear Brothers, who sit at this bountiful board,
With excellent viands so lavishly stored
That, in newspaper phrase, t would undoubtedly groan,
If groaning were but a convivial tone,
Which it is n't,—and therefore, by sympathy led,
The table, no doubt, is rejoicing instead.
Dear Brothers, I rise,—and it won't be surprising
If you find me, like bread, all the better for rising,—
I rise to express my exceeding delight
In our cordial reunion this glorious night!
With excellent viands so lavishly stored
That, in newspaper phrase, t would undoubtedly groan,
If groaning were but a convivial tone,
Which it is n't,—and therefore, by sympathy led,
The table, no doubt, is rejoicing instead.
Dear Brothers, I rise,—and it won't be surprising
If you find me, like bread, all the better for rising,—
I rise to express my exceeding delight
In our cordial reunion this glorious night!
Success to “Psi Upsilon!”—Beautiful name!—
To the eye and the ear it is pleasant the same;
Many thanks to old Cadmus who made us his debtors,
By inventing, one day, those capital letters
Which still, from the heart, we shall know how to speak
When we've fairly forgotten the rest of our Greek!
To be open and honest in all that you do;
To every high trust to be faithful and true;
In aught that concerns morality's scheme,
To be more ambitious to be than to seem;
To cultivate honor as higher in worth
Than favor of fortune, or genius, or birth;
By every endeavor to render your lives
As spotless and fair as your—possible wives;
To treat with respect all the innocent rules
That keep us at peace with society's fools;
But to face every canon that e'er was designed
To batter a town or beleaguer a mind,
Ere you yield to the Moloch that Fashion has reared
One jot of your freedom, or hair of your beard,—
All this, and much more, I might venture to teach,
Had I only a “call”—and a “license to preach”;
But since I have not, to my modesty true,
I'll lay it all by, as a layman should do.
And drop a few lines, tipt with Momus's flies,
To angle for shiners—that lurk in your eyes!
To the eye and the ear it is pleasant the same;
Many thanks to old Cadmus who made us his debtors,
By inventing, one day, those capital letters
Which still, from the heart, we shall know how to speak
When we've fairly forgotten the rest of our Greek!
To be open and honest in all that you do;
To every high trust to be faithful and true;
In aught that concerns morality's scheme,
To be more ambitious to be than to seem;
To cultivate honor as higher in worth
Than favor of fortune, or genius, or birth;
By every endeavor to render your lives
As spotless and fair as your—possible wives;
To treat with respect all the innocent rules
That keep us at peace with society's fools;
But to face every canon that e'er was designed
To batter a town or beleaguer a mind,
Ere you yield to the Moloch that Fashion has reared
One jot of your freedom, or hair of your beard,—
All this, and much more, I might venture to teach,
Had I only a “call”—and a “license to preach”;
But since I have not, to my modesty true,
I'll lay it all by, as a layman should do.
72
To angle for shiners—that lurk in your eyes!
May you ne'er get in love or in debt with a doubt
As to whether or no you will ever get out;
May you ne'er have a mistress who plays the coquette,
Or a neighbor who blows on a cracked clarionet;
May you learn the first use of a lock on your door,
And ne'er, like Adonis, be killed by a bore;
Shun canting and canters with resolute force
(A “canter” is shocking, except in a horse);
At jovial parties mind what you are at,
Beware of your head and take care of your hat,
Lest you find that a favorite son of your mother
Has a brick in the one and an ache in the other;
May you never, I pray, to worry your life,
Have a weak-minded friend, or a strong-minded wife;
A tailor distrustful, or partner suspicious;
A dog that is rabid, or nag that is vicious;
Above all—the chief blessing the gods can impart—
May you keep a clear head and a generous heart;
Remember 't is blesséd to give and forgive;
Live chiefly to love, and love while you live;
And dying, when life's little journey is done,
May your last, fondest sigh, be PSI Upsilon!
As to whether or no you will ever get out;
May you ne'er have a mistress who plays the coquette,
Or a neighbor who blows on a cracked clarionet;
May you learn the first use of a lock on your door,
And ne'er, like Adonis, be killed by a bore;
Shun canting and canters with resolute force
(A “canter” is shocking, except in a horse);
At jovial parties mind what you are at,
Beware of your head and take care of your hat,
Lest you find that a favorite son of your mother
Has a brick in the one and an ache in the other;
May you never, I pray, to worry your life,
Have a weak-minded friend, or a strong-minded wife;
A tailor distrustful, or partner suspicious;
A dog that is rabid, or nag that is vicious;
Above all—the chief blessing the gods can impart—
May you keep a clear head and a generous heart;
Remember 't is blesséd to give and forgive;
Live chiefly to love, and love while you live;
And dying, when life's little journey is done,
May your last, fondest sigh, be PSI Upsilon!
| The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe | |