In Residence
Let no man shout before the wood Encloseth him no more ; Nor gaily say his gamp is good Before the heavens pour. Let no man say “I go to climb A ridge of danger dread !” But wait till that successful time, And say “I have!” instead! 53
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Let no man shout before the wood Encloseth him no more ; Nor gaily say his gamp is good Before the heavens pour. Let no man say “I go to climb A ridge of danger dread !” But wait till that successful time, And say “I have!” instead! 53
THE MOUNTAINEER’S FATHER WILLIAM. “YOU are old, Father William,” the young man said, “ And your waistcoat is awfully tight, And yet you persistently plough up Sty Head, Do you think, at your age, it is right?” “In the days of my youth,” Father William replied, “T fostered each Sybarite taste ; But now I strive hard my tum-tum to retard, By wasting to limit my waist!” “ You are old, Father William,” the young man cried, “ Relinquish a passion so dread ! Lay ice axe and rope and dementia aside !— Remember the years o’er your head!” “In the days o…
A RONDEL A BRIEF half-hour is man’s allotted bliss, A space of sunshine and eternal shower ; A little time for love, as short as is A brief half-hour. Hell hath no witchcraft, heaven hath no power, To change, prolong, delay, or hasten this. It comes and flits, a bee from bud to flower. No strength hath love, no virtue hath love’s kiss, To move one jot fate’s doom, man’s meed, sin’s dower. Between birth’s darkness and the gates of Dis, A brief half-hour! 84
BALLADE OF BOWLING MANY a man is a dab at Greek, Latin is easily learnt by some, Heaps of—Germans—in German speak, French Verbs yield to the rule of thumb. Many a man a tune can hum In a manner distinctly beyond all praise, Scrape on a fiddle, or beat a drum :— Not every bowler can break both ways! Men there have been who would daily seek Problems in Algebra—trebly glum, Work at them, groan at them, week by week, Grind like a matchmaker down ir a slum ; Slave all night, though no answer come, Smug all day, though the summer blaze, . All may do …
26 BALLADE OF THE BACKS He paddles like a honey-bee ; His golden boots are made at Flack’s ; You often see a man like he Upon the backs—upon the backs, ENVOI Prince, you may storm Sevastopool, With Maxim’s thwacks and axe attacks; I ply the deft Canadian tool Upon the backs—upon the backs.
…! You reckon on the odd. 1 The author is indebted to Mr Francis Thompson for this felicitous and, withal, epigrammatic way of writing ‘‘ man.”
…pected “ mus.” Let glories of a novel climb Before that climb be dumb ; Nor of a record-breaking time Before the achievement hum. Let no man of his doings boast Before those deeds be wrought; No cook proceed his hare to roast Before that hare be caught.
…at Peak-et! And the muscular strength (which I didn’t use then) Comes in for a subsequent day!” “You are old, Father William,” the young man said, “Yet your tongue is as trusty as ever; You consistently lie in a manner that I Consider infernally clever!” “T have answered three questions, and that is enough, Come on, if you’re coming at all! Pi hold you—this Buckingham’s capital stuff— I'll hold—but I’m hanged if I’ll haul!”
…contagious Caliban! Hell spits on thee ; her sin is spiritual. Only the awful slime and excrement That sin sheds off will own thee for a man. Only the worms in dead men’s bowels that crawl To lick a loathlier brother are content. 73
THE VILLAGE CHAMPIONS (FOUNDED ON FACT) ‘The way to Dorking, mister? Ay! I wean’t, a-fearin’ to deceive ; I bean’t a man as can rely, To speak on, as you might perceive. You go an’ ax that chap you see A-sitting by the villidge tree.” “« And who is he ?” the stranger said. “He seems more aged than you, my friend!” “Why, bless you, so ’e be,” his head He sadly scratched from end to end, “ But sich a hintellect, I'll lay You don’t see, mister, hevery day ! “Why, Billy Stoke ’e were the cove A matter o’ ten year agone What beat Jim Buskett out o’ …
BALLADE OF THE MUTABILITY OF HUMAN AFFAIRS WILD briar’s a blossom that fades ; The lily as easily dies ; And the love of terrestrial maids Is tender, too tender to prize. In a minute it droops and it dies, And happiness spills at the brink ; Love opens the window and flies :— But Smith’s is a permanent ink. Prosperity favoureth trades. An hour, and then troubles arise. The workers drop axes and spades, And Brandenburg labour supplies The goods. It is very unwise Your money in labour to sink. It will vanish, the blue in the skies :— But Smith’s …
…HO SOUGHT TO INFECT OUR YOUTH WITH HIS NOXIOUS WARES The ordure of this goat, who is called ‘* Master Leonard.” —ELIPHAZz LEVI. He’s the man for muck.— BROWNING. I. SMALL coffin-worms that burrow in thy brain Writhe with delight; thy rotten body teems With all infesting vermin, as beseems The mirror of an obscene mind. In vain Thy misbegotten brutehood shirks the pain Of its avenging leprosies: death steams In all thy rank foul atmosphere: the gleams Of phosphorescent putrefaction wane. Thy sordid hands reach through the filth to snatch The off…
…s a picture of gloom, Your pulse is a hundred and two, Your eyelids are glued as with glue, A towel is tied to your head, You might be a man with the Flu! “The Trip! and I wish I were dead!” O blood! Mighty being ve whom Our novelists say what is true! You swear, and you fuss, and you fume, And the saddest of books—if the view That I catch of your dainty canoe Be accurate—heavy as lead, Are piled as you yawn and say “ Phew! The Trip! and I wish I were dead!” O ordin’ry persons! Who ‘lume Your College (you are but a few)— You seem to consider yo…
BALLADE OF BICYCLING LITTLE use to weep over a spill, When you chance to collide with a chap In a cart at the foot of a hill, Or a clergyman out in a trap ; It is better to meet a mishap With philosophy noble and sound, And steer for Fortunia’s lap : “ Hi, Mister, your wheel’s goin’ round !” Though Jack may be followed by Jill, On the slope, a man’s claret to tap ; There’s a way that is made by a will, Like a river turned on from a tap. You may cover the whole of the map, Your face with the sunlight is browned, You smile when boys shout, with a…
…he General, or possibly the Poll Degree, , For my papers in the Trip. of Moral Science. So I, who might have risen to the fame of such a man as Hobbes, Or Leibnitz, or St Paul, or Dr Whewell, Remain a mediocrity (excuse a water-can 0’ sobs!) Exactly for my excellence—it’s cruel.
…fe in a light and humorous way which even on the most blasé of Freshmen will be unlikely to pall. I will quote you the Walt that was Whitman, the Wilde that was Oscar, the Vincent O’Sullivan, paean | and chant of the classical world, songs from America due to the lyre of the Harte that was Bret. ~ And all these estimable personages, very useful in their way, but to be strenuously opposed if they should endeavour to put their oar into morals, religion, or more important still, politics, say as with one voice (of course we do not insinuate any ch…