The Sword of Song

THE SWORD OF SONG 26 And sail—“the waters wild a-wenting Over your child ! The left lamenting” (Campbell).28 The Ibis head,29 unsuited To grin, perhaps, yet does its best To show its strong appreciation Of the humour of the situation— In short, dismiss me, jeered and hooted, Who thought I sported Roland’s crest,30 With wisdom saddled, spurred, and booted, (As I my Jesus) with a jest.31 So here is my tribute—a jolly good strong ’un— To the eunuch, the faddist, the fool, and the wrong ’un ! It’s fun when you say “A mysterious way32 God moves in to fix up his Maskelyne tricks. He trots on the tides, on the tempest he rides (Like Cosmo); and as for his pace, we bethought us Achilles could never catch up with that tortoise !” No flyer, but very “Who’s Griffiths ?”* No jackpot ! I straddle the blind, age ! At hymns I’m a moral ; In Sankey, your kettle may call me a black pot. Here’s diamond for coke, and pink pearl for pale coral. Though his mills may grind slowly—what says the old hymn?33 Tune, Limerick ! Author ? My memory’s dim. The corn said “You sluggard !” The mill “You may tug hard,” (or lug hard, or plug hard ; I forgot the exact Rhyme ; that’s a fact “If I want to grind slowly I shall,” A quainter old fable one rarely is able To drag from its haunt in the—smoke room or stable ! You see (vide supra) I’ve brought to the test a ton Of tolerance, broadness. Approve me, friend Chesteron ! So much when philosophy’s lacteal river Turns sour through a trifle of bile on the liver. But now for the sane and the succulent milk Of truth—may it slip down as smoothly as silk. “How very hard it is to be”34 A Yogi ! Let our spirits see At least what primal need of thought This end to its career has brought : * “Who’s Griffiths ? The safe man.” A well-known advertisment, hence “Who’s Griffiths” = safe. Slowness of Divine Justice. Poet pockets Piety Stakes. National An- them of Natal. But this talk is all indigestion. Now for health. Reasons for undertaking the task. 150 155 160 165 170 175 180 185