 | Lapsus Calami |  |
LAPSUS CALAMI
PIO FUNDATORI.
Post quatuor iam lustra deponens togamiam iam futurus rusticus,
alumnus olim, vile consecro tibi,
Henrice rex, opusculum
apud Jemabad, id. Mart. mdcccxci.
1
To C. S. C.
Oh, when the grey courts of Christ's College glowed
With all the rapture of thy frequent lay,
When printers' devils chuckled as they strode,
And blithe compositors grew loudly gay:
Did Granta realise that here abode,
Here in the home of Milton, Wordsworth, Gray,
A poet not unfit to cope with any
That ever wore the bays or turned a penny?
With all the rapture of thy frequent lay,
When printers' devils chuckled as they strode,
And blithe compositors grew loudly gay:
Did Granta realise that here abode,
Here in the home of Milton, Wordsworth, Gray,
A poet not unfit to cope with any
That ever wore the bays or turned a penny?
The wit of smooth delicious Matthew Prior,
The rhythmic grace which Hookham Frere displayed,
The summer lightning wreathing Byron's lyre,
The neat inevitable turns of Praed,
Rhymes to which Hudibras could scarce aspire,
Such metric pranks as Gilbert oft has played,
All these good gifts and others far sublimer
Are found in thee, beloved Cambridge rhymer.
The rhythmic grace which Hookham Frere displayed,
The summer lightning wreathing Byron's lyre,
The neat inevitable turns of Praed,
Rhymes to which Hudibras could scarce aspire,
Such metric pranks as Gilbert oft has played,
All these good gifts and others far sublimer
Are found in thee, beloved Cambridge rhymer.
2
And scholarship as sound as his whose name
Matched thine (he lives to mourn, alas, thy death,
And now enjoys the plenitude of fame,
And oft to crowded audience lectureth,
Or writes to prove religion is the same
As science, unbelief a form of faith):—
Ripe scholar! Virgil's self would not be chary
Of praises for thy Carmen Seculare.
Matched thine (he lives to mourn, alas, thy death,
And now enjoys the plenitude of fame,
And oft to crowded audience lectureth,
Or writes to prove religion is the same
As science, unbelief a form of faith):—
Ripe scholar! Virgil's self would not be chary
Of praises for thy Carmen Seculare.
Whene'er I take my “pint of beer” a day,
I “gaze into my glass” and think of thee:
When smoking, after “lunch is cleared away,”
Thy face amid the cloud I seem to see;
When “that sweet mite with whom I used to play,”
Or “Araminta,” or “the fair Miss P.”
Recur to me, I think upon thy verses,
Which still my beating heart and quench my curses.
I “gaze into my glass” and think of thee:
When smoking, after “lunch is cleared away,”
Thy face amid the cloud I seem to see;
When “that sweet mite with whom I used to play,”
Or “Araminta,” or “the fair Miss P.”
Recur to me, I think upon thy verses,
Which still my beating heart and quench my curses.
Ah, Calverley! if in these lays of mine
Some sparkle of thy radiant genius burned,
Or were in any poem—stanza—line
Some faint reflection of thy muse discerned:
If any critic would remark in fine
“Of C. S. C. this gentle art he learned;”
I should not then expect my book to fail,
Nor have my doubts about a decent sale.
Some sparkle of thy radiant genius burned,
Or were in any poem—stanza—line
Some faint reflection of thy muse discerned:
If any critic would remark in fine
“Of C. S. C. this gentle art he learned;”
I should not then expect my book to fail,
Nor have my doubts about a decent sale.
3
To R. K.
As long I dwell on some stupendous
And tremendous (Heaven defend us!)
Monstr'-inform'-ingens-horrendous
Demoniaco-seraphic
Penman's latest piece of graphic.
Browning.
And tremendous (Heaven defend us!)
Monstr'-inform'-ingens-horrendous
Demoniaco-seraphic
Penman's latest piece of graphic.
Browning.
Will there never come a season
Which shall rid us from the curse
Of a prose which knows no reason
And an unmelodious verse:
When the world shall cease to wonder
At the genius of an Ass,
And a boy's eccentric blunder
Shall not bring success to pass:
Which shall rid us from the curse
Of a prose which knows no reason
And an unmelodious verse:
When the world shall cease to wonder
At the genius of an Ass,
And a boy's eccentric blunder
Shall not bring success to pass:
When mankind shall be delivered
From the clash of magazines,
And the inkstand shall be shivered
Into countless smithereens:
When there stands a muzzled stripling,
Mute, beside a muzzled bore:
When the Rudyards cease from kipling
And the Haggards Ride no more.
From the clash of magazines,
And the inkstand shall be shivered
Into countless smithereens:
When there stands a muzzled stripling,
Mute, beside a muzzled bore:
When the Rudyards cease from kipling
And the Haggards Ride no more.
4
The Grand Old Pipe.
I have ceased to believe in the Leader
Whom I loved in the days of my youth:
Is he, or am I the seceder?
It were hard to determine the truth.
But my enmity is not impassioned:
I'll forgive and forget if I can,
And I'm smoking a pipe which is fashioned
Like the face of the Grand Old Man.
Whom I loved in the days of my youth:
Is he, or am I the seceder?
It were hard to determine the truth.
But my enmity is not impassioned:
I'll forgive and forget if I can,
And I'm smoking a pipe which is fashioned
Like the face of the Grand Old Man.
It was made in the days when his collars
Were still of the usual size,
And before the recipients of dollars
Were known as his trusted allies:
But I love, as I lounge in the garden,
Or work at my chambers, to gaze
At the face of the master of Hawarden,
As he was in the Grand Old Days.
Were still of the usual size,
And before the recipients of dollars
Were known as his trusted allies:
But I love, as I lounge in the garden,
Or work at my chambers, to gaze
At the face of the master of Hawarden,
As he was in the Grand Old Days.
My pipe was my one consolation
When its antitype kindled the flame
Which threatened the brave population
Of Ulster with ruin and shame:
I forgot that our ruler was dealing
With scamps of the Sheridan type,
While the true orange colour was stealing
O'er the face of my Grand Old Pipe.
When its antitype kindled the flame
Which threatened the brave population
Of Ulster with ruin and shame:
I forgot that our ruler was dealing
With scamps of the Sheridan type,
While the true orange colour was stealing
O'er the face of my Grand Old Pipe.
5
Did his conduct grow ever absurder
Till no remnant of reason seemed left?
Did he praise the professors of murder?
Does he preach the evangel of theft?
When he urges our eloquent neighbours
To keep other men's land in their gripe,
Grows he black in his face with his labours?
Well, so does my Grand Old Pipe.
Till no remnant of reason seemed left?
Did he praise the professors of murder?
Does he preach the evangel of theft?
When he urges our eloquent neighbours
To keep other men's land in their gripe,
Grows he black in his face with his labours?
Well, so does my Grand Old Pipe.
For the sake of its excellent savour,
For the many sweet smokes of the past,
My pipe keeps its hold on my favour,
Tho' now it is blackening fast:
And, remembering how long he has striven,
And the merits he used to possess,
And his fall, let him now be forgiven,
Though he has made a Grand Old Mess.
For the many sweet smokes of the past,
My pipe keeps its hold on my favour,
Tho' now it is blackening fast:
And, remembering how long he has striven,
And the merits he used to possess,
And his fall, let him now be forgiven,
Though he has made a Grand Old Mess.
6
Drinking Song.
To A. S.
There are people, I know, to be found,
Who say and apparently think
That sorrow and care may be drowned
By a timely consumption of drink.
Who say and apparently think
That sorrow and care may be drowned
By a timely consumption of drink.
Does not man, these enthusiasts ask,
Most nearly approach the divine
When engaged in the soul-stirring task
Of filling his body with wine?
Most nearly approach the divine
When engaged in the soul-stirring task
Of filling his body with wine?
Have not beggars been frequently known
When satisfied, soaked and replete,
To imagine their bench was a throne
And the civilised world at their feet?
When satisfied, soaked and replete,
To imagine their bench was a throne
And the civilised world at their feet?
Lord Byron has finely described
The remarkably soothing effect
Of liquor, profusely imbibed,
On a soul that is shattered and wrecked.
The remarkably soothing effect
Of liquor, profusely imbibed,
On a soul that is shattered and wrecked.
In short, if your body or mind
Or your soul or your purse come to grief,
You need only get drunk, and you'll find
Complete and immediate relief.
Or your soul or your purse come to grief,
You need only get drunk, and you'll find
Complete and immediate relief.
For myself, I have managed to do
Without having recourse to this plan,
So I can't write a poem for you,
And you'd better get someone who can.
Without having recourse to this plan,
So I can't write a poem for you,
And you'd better get someone who can.
SINCERE FLATTERY.
9
I. Of F. W. H. M.
1. To One that smokes.
Spare us the hint of slightest desecration,Spotless preserve us an untainted shrine;
Not for thy sake, oh goddess of creation,
Not for thy sake, oh woman, but for mine.
10
2. To A. T. M.
See where the K., in sturdy self-reliance,
Thoughtful and placid as a brooding dove
Stands, firmly sucking, in the cause of science,
Just such a peppermint as schoolboys love.
Thoughtful and placid as a brooding dove
Stands, firmly sucking, in the cause of science,
Just such a peppermint as schoolboys love.
Suck, placid K.: the world will be thy debtor;
Though thine eyes water and thine heart grow faint,
Suck: and the less thou likest it the better;
Suck for our sake, and utter no complaint.
Though thine eyes water and thine heart grow faint,
Suck: and the less thou likest it the better;
Suck for our sake, and utter no complaint.
Near thee a being, passionate and gentle,
Man's latest teacher, wisdom's pioneer,
Calmly majestically monumental,
Stands: the august Telepathist is here.
Man's latest teacher, wisdom's pioneer,
Calmly majestically monumental,
Stands: the august Telepathist is here.
Waves of perception, subtle emanations,
Thrill through the ether, circulate amain;
Delicate soft impalpable sensations,
Born of thy palate, quiver in his brain.
Thrill through the ether, circulate amain;
Delicate soft impalpable sensations,
Born of thy palate, quiver in his brain.
Lo! with a voice unspeakably dramatic,
Lo! with a gesture singularly fine,
He makes at last a lucid and emphatic
Statement of what is in that mouth of thine.
Lo! with a gesture singularly fine,
He makes at last a lucid and emphatic
Statement of what is in that mouth of thine.
11
He could detect that peppermint's existence,
He read its nature in the book of doom;
Standing at some considerable distance;
Standing, in fact, in quite another room.
He read its nature in the book of doom;
Standing at some considerable distance;
Standing, in fact, in quite another room.
Was there a faint impenetrable essence
Wafted towards him from the sucking K.?
Did some pale ghost inform him of its presence?
Or did it happen in some other way?
Wafted towards him from the sucking K.?
Did some pale ghost inform him of its presence?
Or did it happen in some other way?
These are the questions nobody can answer,
These are the problems nobody can solve;
Only we know that Man is an Advancer:
Only we know the Centuries revolve.
These are the problems nobody can solve;
Only we know that Man is an Advancer:
Only we know the Centuries revolve.
12
II. Of R. B.
1. To A. S.
Birthdays? yes, in a general way;
For the most if not for the best of men:
You were born (I suppose) on a certain day:
So was I: or perhaps in the night: what then?
For the most if not for the best of men:
You were born (I suppose) on a certain day:
So was I: or perhaps in the night: what then?
Only this: or at least, if more,
You must know, not think it, and learn, not speak:
There is truth to be found on the unknown shore,
And many will find where few will seek.
You must know, not think it, and learn, not speak:
There is truth to be found on the unknown shore,
And many will find where few will seek.
For many are called and few are chosen,
And the few grow many as ages lapse:
But when will the many grow few: what dozen
Is fused into one by Time's hammer-taps?
And the few grow many as ages lapse:
But when will the many grow few: what dozen
Is fused into one by Time's hammer-taps?
A bare brown stone in a babbling brook:—
It was wanton to hurl it there, you say:
And the moss, which clung in the sheltered nook
(Yet the stream runs cooler), is washed away.
It was wanton to hurl it there, you say:
And the moss, which clung in the sheltered nook
(Yet the stream runs cooler), is washed away.
That begs the question: many a prater
Thinks such a suggestion a sound “stop thief!”
Which, may I ask, do you think the greater,
Sergeant-at-arms or a Robber Chief?
Thinks such a suggestion a sound “stop thief!”
Which, may I ask, do you think the greater,
Sergeant-at-arms or a Robber Chief?
13
And if it were not so? still you doubt?
Ah! yours is a birthday indeed if so.
That were something to write a poem about,
If one thought a little. I only know.
Ah! yours is a birthday indeed if so.
That were something to write a poem about,
If one thought a little. I only know.
P.S.
There's a Me Society down at Cambridge,
Where my works, cum notis variorum,
Are talked about; well, I require the same bridge
That Euclid took toll at as Asinorum:
Where my works, cum notis variorum,
Are talked about; well, I require the same bridge
That Euclid took toll at as Asinorum:
And, as they have got through several ditties
I thought were as stiff as a brick-built wall,
I've composed the above, and a stiff one it is,
A bridge to stop asses at, once for all.
I thought were as stiff as a brick-built wall,
I've composed the above, and a stiff one it is,
A bridge to stop asses at, once for all.
14
2. The Last Ride together.
(From Her point of view.)
When I had firmly answered “No,”
And he allowed that that was so,
I really thought I should be free
For good and all from Mr B.,
And that he would soberly acquiesce:
I said that it would be discreet
That for a while we should not meet;
I promised I would always feel
A kindly interest in his weal;
I thanked him for his amorous zeal;
In short, I said all I could but “yes.”
And he allowed that that was so,
I really thought I should be free
For good and all from Mr B.,
And that he would soberly acquiesce:
I said that it would be discreet
That for a while we should not meet;
I promised I would always feel
A kindly interest in his weal;
I thanked him for his amorous zeal;
In short, I said all I could but “yes.”
I said what I'm accustomed to;
I acted as I always do;
I promised he should find in me
A friend,—a sister, if that might be:
But he was still dissatisfied:
He certainly was most polite;
He said exactly what was right,
He acted very properly,
Except indeed for this, that he
Insisted on inviting me
To come with him for “one more last ride.”
I acted as I always do;
I promised he should find in me
A friend,—a sister, if that might be:
But he was still dissatisfied:
He certainly was most polite;
He said exactly what was right,
He acted very properly,
Except indeed for this, that he
Insisted on inviting me
To come with him for “one more last ride.”
15
A little while in doubt I stood:
A ride, no doubt, would do me good:
I had a habit and a hat
Extremely well worth looking at:
The weather was distinctly fine:
My horse too wanted exercise,
And time, when one is riding, flies:
Besides it really seemed, you see,
The only way of ridding me
Of pertinacious Mr B.:
So my head I graciously incline.
A ride, no doubt, would do me good:
I had a habit and a hat
Extremely well worth looking at:
The weather was distinctly fine:
My horse too wanted exercise,
And time, when one is riding, flies:
Besides it really seemed, you see,
The only way of ridding me
Of pertinacious Mr B.:
So my head I graciously incline.
I won't say much of what happened next:
I own I was extremely vexed:
Indeed I should have been aghast
If any one had seen what passed:
But nobody need ever know
That, as I leaned forward to stir the fire,
He advanced before I could well retire,
And I suddenly felt, to my great alarm,
The grasp of a warm unlicensed arm,
An embrace in which I found no charm;
I was awfully glad when he let me go.
I own I was extremely vexed:
Indeed I should have been aghast
If any one had seen what passed:
But nobody need ever know
That, as I leaned forward to stir the fire,
He advanced before I could well retire,
And I suddenly felt, to my great alarm,
The grasp of a warm unlicensed arm,
An embrace in which I found no charm;
I was awfully glad when he let me go.
Then we began to ride: my steed
Was rather fresh, too fresh indeed,
And at first I thought of little, save
The way to escape an early grave,
As the dust rose up on either side.
My stern companion jogged along
On a brown old cob both broad and strong:
He looked as he does when he's writing verse,
Or endeavouring not to swear and curse,
Or wondering where he has left his purse:
Indeed it was a sombre ride.
Was rather fresh, too fresh indeed,
And at first I thought of little, save
The way to escape an early grave,
As the dust rose up on either side.
My stern companion jogged along
On a brown old cob both broad and strong:
16
Or endeavouring not to swear and curse,
Or wondering where he has left his purse:
Indeed it was a sombre ride.
I spoke of the weather to Mr B.:
But he neither listened nor spoke to me:
I praised his horse, and I smiled the smile
Which was wont to move him once on a while;
I said I was wearing his favourite flowers:
But I wasted my words on the desert air,
For he rode with a fixed and gloomy stare:
I wonder what he was thinking about:
As I don't read verse, I sha'n't find out:
It was something subtle and deep, no doubt,
A theme to detain a man for hours.
But he neither listened nor spoke to me:
I praised his horse, and I smiled the smile
Which was wont to move him once on a while;
I said I was wearing his favourite flowers:
But I wasted my words on the desert air,
For he rode with a fixed and gloomy stare:
I wonder what he was thinking about:
As I don't read verse, I sha'n't find out:
It was something subtle and deep, no doubt,
A theme to detain a man for hours.
Ah! there was the corner where Mr S.
So nearly induced me to whisper “yes”:
And here it was that the next but one
Proposed on horseback, or would have done,
Had his horse not most opportunely shied;
Which perhaps was due to the unseen flick
He received from my whip: 'twas a scurvy trick,
But I never could do with that young man:
I hope his present young woman can.
Well, I must say, never, since time began,
Did I go for a duller or longer ride.
So nearly induced me to whisper “yes”:
And here it was that the next but one
Proposed on horseback, or would have done,
Had his horse not most opportunely shied;
Which perhaps was due to the unseen flick
He received from my whip: 'twas a scurvy trick,
But I never could do with that young man:
I hope his present young woman can.
Well, I must say, never, since time began,
Did I go for a duller or longer ride.
He never smiles and he never speaks:
He might go on like this for weeks:
He rolls a slightly frenzied eye
Towards the blue and burning sky,
And the cob bounds on with tireless stride.
If we aren't at home for lunch at two
I don't know what Papa will do;
But I know full well he will say to me
“I never approved of Mr B.:
“It's the very devil that you and he
“Ride, ride together, for ever ride.”
He might go on like this for weeks:
17
Towards the blue and burning sky,
And the cob bounds on with tireless stride.
If we aren't at home for lunch at two
I don't know what Papa will do;
But I know full well he will say to me
“I never approved of Mr B.:
“It's the very devil that you and he
“Ride, ride together, for ever ride.”
18
3. Midsummer.
Persons at various times have said
That the hot dank steam of a sun-scorched day
Is a thing to thank God for: strike me dead
If I let such a falsehood lack its nay.
That the hot dank steam of a sun-scorched day
Is a thing to thank God for: strike me dead
If I let such a falsehood lack its nay.
When Philip of Spain, or our own red Mary,
Desired to be rid of an impious man,
Did they freeze him to death? they were not so chary
Of man's worst weapon, the frying pan.
Desired to be rid of an impious man,
Did they freeze him to death? they were not so chary
Of man's worst weapon, the frying pan.
The fire, or the frying pan—well, the adage
Tells us the difference is but small,
And the fact remains that in that last bad age
When man had all torture-tricks at call,
Tells us the difference is but small,
And the fact remains that in that last bad age
When man had all torture-tricks at call,
They knew what was best and did it duly,
And broiled those most whom they loved the least.
Man, is it thou that hast proved unruly?
They are broiling thee, thou sinful beast.
And broiled those most whom they loved the least.
Man, is it thou that hast proved unruly?
They are broiling thee, thou sinful beast.
Languid and frenzied, most despairing
When least's to despair at, such we grow,
When the sun's rays down on our heads, naught sparing,
Burn and blister. I'd have you know
When least's to despair at, such we grow,
When the sun's rays down on our heads, naught sparing,
Burn and blister. I'd have you know
I have strung together these sad reflections
To prove to my tutor, a stern stark man,
That my chance of a decent place in collections
Drooped and died when the heat began.
To prove to my tutor, a stern stark man,
That my chance of a decent place in collections
Drooped and died when the heat began.
19
III. Of W. W. (Americanus).
[The clear cool note of the cuckoo which has ousted the legitimate nest-holder]
The clear cool note of the cuckoo which has ousted the legitimate nest-holder,The whistle of the railway guard despatching the train to the inevitable collision,
The maiden's monosyllabic reply to a polysyllabic proposal,
The fundamental note of the last trump, which is presumably D natural;
All of these are sounds to rejoice in, yea to let your very ribs re-echo with:
But better than all of them is the absolutely last chord of the apparently inexhaustible pianoforte player.
20
IV. Of W. W. (Britannicus).
Poetic lamentation on the insufficiency of steam locomotion in the Lake district.
Bright Summer spreads his various hue
O'er nestling vales and mountains steep,
Glad birds are singing in the blue,
In joyous chorus bleat the sheep.
But men are walking to and fro,
Are riding, driving far and near,
And nobody as yet can go
By train to Buttermere.
O'er nestling vales and mountains steep,
Glad birds are singing in the blue,
In joyous chorus bleat the sheep.
But men are walking to and fro,
Are riding, driving far and near,
And nobody as yet can go
By train to Buttermere.
The sunny lake, the mountain track,
The leafy groves are little gain,
While Rydal's pleasant pathways lack
The rattle of the passing train.
But oh! what poet would not sing
That heaven-kissing rocky cone,
On whose steep side the railway king
Shall set his smoky throne?
The leafy groves are little gain,
While Rydal's pleasant pathways lack
The rattle of the passing train.
But oh! what poet would not sing
That heaven-kissing rocky cone,
On whose steep side the railway king
Shall set his smoky throne?
Helvellyn in those happy days
With tunnelled base and grimy peak
Will mark the lamp's approaching rays,
Will hear the whistle's warning shriek:
Will note the coming of the mails,
And watch with unremitting stare
The dusky grove of iron rails
Which leads to Euston-square.
With tunnelled base and grimy peak
Will mark the lamp's approaching rays,
Will hear the whistle's warning shriek:
Will note the coming of the mails,
And watch with unremitting stare
The dusky grove of iron rails
Which leads to Euston-square.
21
Wake, England, wake! 'tis now the hour
To sweep away this black disgrace—
The want of locomotive power
In so enjoyable a place.
Nature has done her part, and why
Is mightier man in his to fail?
I want to hear the porters cry,
“Change here for Ennerdale!”
To sweep away this black disgrace—
The want of locomotive power
In so enjoyable a place.
Nature has done her part, and why
Is mightier man in his to fail?
I want to hear the porters cry,
“Change here for Ennerdale!”
Man! nature must be sought and found
In lonely pools, on verdant banks;
Go, fight her on her chosen ground,
Turn shapely Thirlmere into tanks:
Pursue her to her last retreats,
And if perchance a garden plot
Is found among the London streets,
Smoke, steam and spare it not.
In lonely pools, on verdant banks;
Go, fight her on her chosen ground,
Turn shapely Thirlmere into tanks:
Pursue her to her last retreats,
And if perchance a garden plot
Is found among the London streets,
Smoke, steam and spare it not.
Presumptuous nature! do not rate
Unduly high thy humble lot,
Nor vainly strive to emulate
The fame of Stephenson and Watt.
The beauties which thy lavish pride
Has scattered through the smiling land
Are little worth till sanctified
By man's completing hand.
Unduly high thy humble lot,
Nor vainly strive to emulate
The fame of Stephenson and Watt.
The beauties which thy lavish pride
Has scattered through the smiling land
Are little worth till sanctified
By man's completing hand.
22
V. Of T. G.
Ode on a retrospect of Eton College.
Ye bigot spires, ye Tory towers,
That crown the watery lea,
Where grateful science still adores
The aristocracy:
A happy usher once I strayed
Beneath your lofty elm trees' shade,
With mind untouched by guilt or woe:
But mad ambition made me stray
Beyond the round of work and play
Wherein we ought to go.
That crown the watery lea,
Where grateful science still adores
The aristocracy:
A happy usher once I strayed
Beneath your lofty elm trees' shade,
With mind untouched by guilt or woe:
But mad ambition made me stray
Beyond the round of work and play
Wherein we ought to go.
My office was to teach the young
Idea how to shoot:
But, ah! I joined with eager tongue
Political dispute:
I ventured humbly to suggest
That all things were not for the best
Among the Irish peasantry:
And finding all the world abuse
My simple unpretending views,
I thought I'd go and see.
Idea how to shoot:
But, ah! I joined with eager tongue
Political dispute:
I ventured humbly to suggest
That all things were not for the best
Among the Irish peasantry:
And finding all the world abuse
My simple unpretending views,
I thought I'd go and see.
I boldly left the College bounds:
Across the sea I went,
To probe the economic grounds
Of Irish discontent.
My constant goings to and fro
Excited some alarm; and so
Policemen girded up their loins,
And, from his innocent pursuits,—
Morose unsympathetic brutes,—
They snatched a fearful Joynes.
Across the sea I went,
23
Of Irish discontent.
My constant goings to and fro
Excited some alarm; and so
Policemen girded up their loins,
And, from his innocent pursuits,—
Morose unsympathetic brutes,—
They snatched a fearful Joynes.
Escaped, I speedily returned
To teach the boys again:
But ah, my spirit inly burned
To think on Ireland's pain.
Such wrongs must out: and then, you see,
My own adventures might not be
Uninteresting to my friends:
I therefore ventured to prepare
A little book, designed with care,
To serve these humble ends.
To teach the boys again:
But ah, my spirit inly burned
To think on Ireland's pain.
Such wrongs must out: and then, you see,
My own adventures might not be
Uninteresting to my friends:
I therefore ventured to prepare
A little book, designed with care,
To serve these humble ends.
Our stern head-master spoke to me
Severely:—“You appear
“(Horresco referens) to be
“A party pamphleteer.
“If you must write, let Caesar's page
“Or Virgil's poetry engage
“Your all to numerous leisure hours:
“But now annihilate and quash
“This impious philanthropic bosh:
“Or quit these antique towers.”
Severely:—“You appear
“(Horresco referens) to be
“A party pamphleteer.
“If you must write, let Caesar's page
“Or Virgil's poetry engage
“Your all to numerous leisure hours:
“But now annihilate and quash
“This impious philanthropic bosh:
“Or quit these antique towers.”
24
It seems that he who dares to write
Is all unfit to teach:
And literary fame is quite
Beyond an usher's reach.
I dared imprisonment in vain:
The little bantling of my brain
I am compelled to sacrifice.
The moral, after all, is this:—
That here, where ignorance is bliss,
’Tis folly to be wise.
Is all unfit to teach:
And literary fame is quite
Beyond an usher's reach.
I dared imprisonment in vain:
The little bantling of my brain
I am compelled to sacrifice.
The moral, after all, is this:—
That here, where ignorance is bliss,
’Tis folly to be wise.
25
VI. Of Lord B.
A Grievance.
Dear Mr Editor: I wish to say—
If you will not be angry at my writing it—
But I've been used, since childhood's happy day,
When I have thought of something, to inditing it:
I seldom think of things: and, by the way,
Although this metre may not be exciting, it
Enables one to be extremely terse,
Which is not what one always is in verse.
If you will not be angry at my writing it—
But I've been used, since childhood's happy day,
When I have thought of something, to inditing it:
I seldom think of things: and, by the way,
Although this metre may not be exciting, it
Enables one to be extremely terse,
Which is not what one always is in verse.
I used to know a man,—such things befall
The observant wayfarer through Fate's domain:
He was a man, take him for all in all,
We shall not look upon his like again:
I know that statement's not original:
What statement is, since Shakspere? or, since Cain,
What murder? I believe 'twas Shakspere said it, or
Perhaps it may have been your Fighting Editor.
The observant wayfarer through Fate's domain:
He was a man, take him for all in all,
We shall not look upon his like again:
I know that statement's not original:
What statement is, since Shakspere? or, since Cain,
What murder? I believe 'twas Shakspere said it, or
Perhaps it may have been your Fighting Editor.
26
Though why an Editor should fight, or why
A Fighter should abase himself to edit,
Are problems far too difficult and high
For me to solve with any sort of credit:
Some greatly more accomplished man than I
Must tackle them: let's say then Shakspere said it:
And, if he did not, Lewis Morris may
(Or even if he did). Some other day,
A Fighter should abase himself to edit,
Are problems far too difficult and high
For me to solve with any sort of credit:
Some greatly more accomplished man than I
Must tackle them: let's say then Shakspere said it:
And, if he did not, Lewis Morris may
(Or even if he did). Some other day,
When I have nothing pressing to impart,
I should not mind dilating on this matter:
I feel its import both in head and heart,
And always did,—especially the latter:
I could discuss it in the busy mart
Or on the lonely housetop: hold! this chatter
Diverts me from my purpose. To the point:
The time, as Hamlet said, is out of joint,
I should not mind dilating on this matter:
I feel its import both in head and heart,
And always did,—especially the latter:
I could discuss it in the busy mart
Or on the lonely housetop: hold! this chatter
Diverts me from my purpose. To the point:
The time, as Hamlet said, is out of joint,
And I perhaps was born to set it right;
A fact I greet with perfect equanimity;
I do not put it down to “cursed spite”:
I don't see any cause for cursing in it: I
Have always taken very great delight
In such pursuits since first I read divinity:
Whoever will may write a nation's songs
As long as I'm allowed to right its wrongs.
A fact I greet with perfect equanimity;
I do not put it down to “cursed spite”:
I don't see any cause for cursing in it: I
Have always taken very great delight
In such pursuits since first I read divinity:
Whoever will may write a nation's songs
As long as I'm allowed to right its wrongs.
27
What's Eton but a nursery of wrong-righters,
A mighty mother of effective men,
A training-ground for amateur reciters,
A sharpener of the sword as of the pen,
A factory of orators and fighters,
A forcing-house of genius? Now and then,
The world at large shrinks back, abashed and beaten,
Unable to endure the glare of Eton.
A mighty mother of effective men,
A training-ground for amateur reciters,
A sharpener of the sword as of the pen,
A factory of orators and fighters,
A forcing-house of genius? Now and then,
The world at large shrinks back, abashed and beaten,
Unable to endure the glare of Eton.
I think I said I knew a man: what then?
I don't suppose such knowledge is forbid:
We nearly all do, more or less, know men,—
Or think we do: nor will a man get rid
Of that delusion, while he wields a pen:
But who this man was, what, if aught, he did,
Nor why I mentioned him, I do not know:
Nor what I “wished to say” a while ago.
I don't suppose such knowledge is forbid:
We nearly all do, more or less, know men,—
Or think we do: nor will a man get rid
Of that delusion, while he wields a pen:
But who this man was, what, if aught, he did,
Nor why I mentioned him, I do not know:
Nor what I “wished to say” a while ago.
28
VII. Of A. H. C.
The Literary and Scientific Society.
O ye musical nine, who drink the Castalian waters,
Seated on peaks of Olympus (or, if ye prefer it, Olumpos,—
Browning's a far better judge of the matter than yours very truly—),
Pray be so good as to give me assistance,—for, tho' I'm a poet,
I should be glad to receive a certain amount of assistance—,
Give me your help while I sing how Smith, on the 4th of December,
Did us the honour to read a paper entitled “Pompeii,”
In a Society whose name defies the restriction of metre.
Seated on peaks of Olympus (or, if ye prefer it, Olumpos,—
Browning's a far better judge of the matter than yours very truly—),
Pray be so good as to give me assistance,—for, tho' I'm a poet,
I should be glad to receive a certain amount of assistance—,
Give me your help while I sing how Smith, on the 4th of December,
Did us the honour to read a paper entitled “Pompeii,”
In a Society whose name defies the restriction of metre.
Scarce need we tell of his fervour, research, erudition and learning,
These we must all have observed for ourselves, or at all events heard of,
Heard of from President Pashley, our eloquent President Pashley,
—Please to observe the effect of a skilfully cooked repetition,
Copied from Homer and Clough and a host of hexameter heroes;
Nor will we trouble our readers with all the particulars,—pictures,
Writings on walls and the like: but this we will say, that Sir Walter,
G. P. R. James and Lord Lytton must yield him the palm in description.
When he described how a skeleton dove had been found at Pompeii,
Found on a skeleton egg, we all of us wept in a chorus.
These we must all have observed for ourselves, or at all events heard of,
Heard of from President Pashley, our eloquent President Pashley,
29
Copied from Homer and Clough and a host of hexameter heroes;
Nor will we trouble our readers with all the particulars,—pictures,
Writings on walls and the like: but this we will say, that Sir Walter,
G. P. R. James and Lord Lytton must yield him the palm in description.
When he described how a skeleton dove had been found at Pompeii,
Found on a skeleton egg, we all of us wept in a chorus.
When he had done, and the weepers had wept, and the stamping was over,
Pashley arose, and he made some remarks in the usual fashion;
“This was an excellent paper, he seldom had heard such a good one,
“Yet there was one little thing he should like to make just one remark on,
“One little point where he did not agree with the reader's opinion,
“One little question on which Mr Smith should have scarcely been silent”:
Several more little points, and several more little questions,
Several more little things and so on and so on and so on;
Not that I wish to deny that his speech was exceedingly clever,
Or that we all of us paid him the greatest and deepest attention.
He was immediately followed by Tatham (N.B. to the printer;
Do not omit to put all proper names in capital letters,
Partly because it looks well and smacks of the penny-a-liner,
Partly to comfort our friends when we cannot afford them a Mr):
Much information he gave concerning a building he'd heard of,
Five were its doors and its size 250 x 80.
Jones was the next to arise; and he made us a crushing oration,
Crushing, but pointless withal, like a seventy-ton steam hammer,
(Study that last line well, observe the onomatopoeia),
Crushed Mr Smith with a hint that he had not neglected his Bulwer.
Pashley arose, and he made some remarks in the usual fashion;
“This was an excellent paper, he seldom had heard such a good one,
“Yet there was one little thing he should like to make just one remark on,
“One little point where he did not agree with the reader's opinion,
“One little question on which Mr Smith should have scarcely been silent”:
Several more little points, and several more little questions,
30
Not that I wish to deny that his speech was exceedingly clever,
Or that we all of us paid him the greatest and deepest attention.
He was immediately followed by Tatham (N.B. to the printer;
Do not omit to put all proper names in capital letters,
Partly because it looks well and smacks of the penny-a-liner,
Partly to comfort our friends when we cannot afford them a Mr):
Much information he gave concerning a building he'd heard of,
Five were its doors and its size 250 x 80.
Jones was the next to arise; and he made us a crushing oration,
Crushing, but pointless withal, like a seventy-ton steam hammer,
(Study that last line well, observe the onomatopoeia),
Crushed Mr Smith with a hint that he had not neglected his Bulwer.
Then Mr Wayte held forth, and his eloquence vied with his learning;
Oh for the tongue, or the pen or the pencil or something of some one,
Some one of fame, who was known from his youth as a friend of the Muses,
Then I might try to depict what was really the speech of the evening.
Now it is useless to try: we will only repeat his suggestion;—
If to Pompeii you go, be sure that you go on a Sunday.
Oh for the tongue, or the pen or the pencil or something of some one,
31
Then I might try to depict what was really the speech of the evening.
Now it is useless to try: we will only repeat his suggestion;—
If to Pompeii you go, be sure that you go on a Sunday.
Last Mr Shuckburgh spoke, and his speech was extremely delightful,
Touching on books and the like: we wish we had time to report it.
Touching on books and the like: we wish we had time to report it.
32
VIII. Of W. S.
For Greek Iambics.
Pe.Not so, my liege, for even now the town
Splits with sedition, and the incensed mob
Rush hither roaring.
Olc.
Let them roar their fill,
Bluster and bellow till the enormous wings
Of gusty Boreas flap with less ado.
Ask they my treacherous nephew's wretched life,
As if that order were a thing of nought
Which I did publish? Let them beg or threaten,
I'll not regard them. Oh my trusty friend,
There is no rock defies the elements,
With half the constancy that kinglike men
Shut up their breasts against such routs as these.
Pe.
O my most valiant lord, I feel 'tis so,
Permit me to advance against the foe.
| Lapsus Calami | |