Shapes of Clay Part 23

"Give back the beautiful old G.o.ds again-- The sportive Nymphs, the Dryad's jocund train,

"Pan piping on his reeds, the Naiades, The Sirens singing by the sleepy seas.

"Nay, show me but a Gorgon and I'll dare To lift mine eyes to her peculiar hair

"(The fatal horrors of her snaky pate, That stiffen men into a stony state)

"And die--erecting, as my soul goes hence, A statue of myself, without expense."

Straight as I spoke I heard the voice of Fate: "Look up, my lad, the Gorgon sisters wait."

Raising my eyes, I saw Medusa stand, Stheno, Euryale, on either hand.

I gazed unpetrified and unappalled-- The girls had aged and were entirely bald!

CONTENTMENT.

Sleep fell upon my senses and I dreamed Long years had circled since my life had fled.

The world was different, and all things seemed Remote and strange, like noises to the dead.

And one great Voice there was; and something said: "Posterity is speaking--rightly deemed Infallible:" and so I gave attention, Hoping Posterity my name would mention.

"Ill.u.s.trious Spirit," said the Voice, "appear!

While we confirm eternally thy fame, Before our dread tribunal answer, here, Why do no statues celebrate thy name, No monuments thy services proclaim?

Why did not thy contemporaries rear To thee some schoolhouse or memorial college?

It looks almighty queer, you must acknowledge."

Up spake I hotly: "That is where you err!"

But some one thundered in my ear: "You shan't Be interrupting these proceedings, sir; The question was addressed to General Grant."

Some other things were spoken which I can't Distinctly now recall, but I infer, By certain flus.h.i.+ngs of my cheeks and forehead, Posterity's environment is torrid.

Then heard I (this was in a dream, remark) Another Voice, clear, comfortable, strong, As Grant's great shade, replying from the dark, Said in a tone that rang the earth along, And thrilled the senses of the Judges' throng: "I'd rather you would question why, in park And street, my monuments were not erected Than why they were." Then, waking, I reflected.

THE NEW ENOCH.

Enoch Arden was an able Seaman; hear of his mishap-- Not in wild mendacious fable, As 't was told by t' other chap;

For I hold it is a youthful Indiscretion to tell lies, And the writer that is truthful Has the reader that is wise.

Enoch Arden, able seaman, On an isle was cast away, And before he was a freeman Time had touched him up with gray.

Long he searched the fair horizon, Seated on a mountain top; Vessel ne'er he set his eyes on That would undertake to stop.

Seeing that his sight was growing Dim and dimmer, day by day, Enoch said he must be going.

So he rose and went away--

Went away and so continued Till he lost his lonely isle: Mr. Arden was so sinewed He could row for many a mile.

Compa.s.s he had not, nor s.e.xtant, To direct him o'er the sea: Ere 't was known that he was extant, At his widow's home was he.

When he saw the hills and hollows And the streets he could but know, He gave utterance as follows To the sentiments below:

"Blast my tarry toplights! (s.h.i.+ver, Too, my timbers!) but, I say, W'at a larruk to diskiver, I have lost me blessid way!

"W'at, alas, would be my bloomin'

Fate if Philip now I see, Which I lammed?--or my old 'oman, Which has frequent basted _me_?"

Scenes of childhood swam around him At the thought of such a lot: In a swoon his Annie found him And conveyed him to her cot.

'T was the very house, the garden, Where their honeymoon was pa.s.sed: 'T was the place where Mrs. Arden Would have mourned him to the last.

Ah, what grief she'd known without him!

Now what tears of joy she shed!

Enoch Arden looked about him: "Shanghaied!"--that was all he said.

DISAVOWAL.

Two bodies are lying in Phoenix Park, Grim and b.l.o.o.d.y and stiff and stark, And a Land League man with averted eye Crosses himself as he hurries by.

And he says to his conscience under his breath: "I have had no hand in this deed of death!"

A Fenian, making a circuit wide And pa.s.sing them by on the other side, Shudders and crosses himself and cries: "Who says that I did it, he lies, he lies!"

Gingerly stepping across the gore, Pat Satan comes after the two before, Makes, in a solemnly comical way, The sign of the cross and is heard to say: "O dear, what a terrible sight to see, For babes like them and a saint like me!"

1882.

AN AVERAGE.

I ne'er could be entirely fond Of any maiden who's a blonde, And no brunette that e'er I saw Had charms my heart's whole warmth to draw.

Yet sure no girl was ever made Just half of light and half of shade.

And so, this happy mean to get, I love a blonde and a brunette.