An Alphabet of History Part 3

Methuselah lived long ago-- He was the Old Inhabitant Those times, but never had a show; His opportunities were scant.

Although he lived nine centuries And three-score years and nine beside, The times he saw were not like these, A chance to spread he was denied.

He could not seek the corner store And lunch on crackers, cheese and prunes, And there display his helpful lore Through mornings and through afternoons; He could not talk about the days When folks first saw the telegraph Or telephone; how their amaze Made better posted people laugh.

He could not take the stranger out To some tall building, then say: "Here, An' for a good ways hereabout, I used to shoot the bear and deer."

Skysc.r.a.pers were an unknown thing, Excepting Babel, in his land, And Babel only served to bring Speech that he could not understand.

(Perhaps this Babel item is Anachronistic; as to that We'll say one pleasant thing was his: He never had to rent a flat.) Another joy in his career Was this: n.o.body ever told Methuselah the stated year When he should be considered old.

At thirty-five he was not barred From working if he wanted to; He did not need a union card His daily labors to pursue; And when his hair was snowy white And age his manly form had bent, n.o.body called him young and bright And ran him for vice-president.

NEWTON

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Now, Newton in the orchard felt an apple strike his head.

"'Tis gravity! 'Tis gravity!" excitedly he said.

Had you or I been sitting there a-thinking of this earth, As Newton was, and wondering about its size and girth, And just when we were figuring a long and heavy sum, The apple hit us on the mind and made our bald spot numb!

We say, had you or I been there, as Newton was that day, Would there have been much gravity in what we had to say?

This shows how great it is to have a scientific mind-- An intellect that reaches out to see what it may find.

Perchance an ordinary man in such a circ.u.mstance Would have got up and rubbed his head and done a little dance, And muttered things that gentle folks should scarcely ever state, And not concede the apple simply had to gravitate.

Again we say, if Newton's place was held by you or I, Instead of gravity we might have thought of apple pie.

You see (again we make the point that scientific minds Discover facts which any brain that's common never finds), You see, when Newton felt the jolt, his science did not stop-- He simply meditated on "What made the apple drop?"

And while in cogitation deep beneath the tree he lay, He mused: "It's odd that apples never drop the other way."

Once more: If you or I had been beneath the apple tree, We might have howled: "Who was it threw that apple and hit me?"

To finish this, however, with becoming gravity, We'll state that Newton lingered there beneath the apple tree; With logarithmic tables he discovered that the speed At which the apple fell was based on whence it fell--indeed, Had it dropped from the moon, we'll say, it would have grown so hot That it would have been melted up before to earth it got.

Again, and finally, had you or I held Newton's seat, We should, like he did, take the apple up and start to eat.

OMAR

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Old Omar, in a Tent he had to live, Yet gave to Verse such Time as he could give; Whereat the Critics rose and Hurled at Him: "The Stuff you write is only Tentative."

Yet Khayyam never worried over that-- He kept his Troubles underneath his Hat Except such Times as when he worked them up Into an Apt and Pleasing Rubaiyat.

Fitzgerald, the Translator, took his Pen And made a flowing Version; yes, and then To show that he could keep it up a While, Translated all the Rubaiyat again.

Now, is there any Home that Don't reveal O. Khayyam's volume resting by "Lucille,"

Bound in Limp Leather, with each Edge uncut, To show the Literary Sense we feel?

And is there any town from York to b.u.t.te Wherein some Maiden fair don't Elocute Through Khayyam's easy-speaking poetry, With Musical Accomp'niment to suit?

Aye, verily! And where the Parodist Who does not seek through all upon his List And come back at the last to Khayyam's work Each time to find New Chances he has missed?

A Good Cigar, a ready Fountain Pen Or a Typewriter one can use, and then A book of Omar whence to draw the Thought-- Oh, Parodies one will turn out again!

Some black initial letters here and there, Perchance he also had E. Hubbard Hair-- But anyhow old Khayyam set a Task To fill all his Successors with despair!

PEPYS

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Perchance when he was working on The diary that bears his name In those far days, now dead and gone, He never dreamed about his fame.

Yet now, from time to time, it is Heard from 'most everybody's lips-- That magic, mellow name of his, The soft and pleasing name of Pepys.

Again, when reading what he wrote, We live anew that ancient time (The book is one we often quote-- The cheap editions are a dime); We mark his course through dingy streets And climb with him the palace steps; In fancy all of those one meets Remark: "Why, there goes Mr. Pepys!"

He always had a seeing eye And hearing ear, and what he saw And what he heard he fain would try To set down, but evade the law And that is why in cipher dark The tale originally creeps-- 'Twas thus, also, he made his mark, This man of truth and trouble, Pepys.

Throughout his life he had his griefs And also had a little fun-- He kept his eye upon his chiefs And tells the things they might have done If they had not done what they did.

Ah, if each person now should keep his Own diary and raise the lid As did this honest Samuel Pepys!

And so, you see, he made a name Whereon the critics sometimes pounce; It hardly ever sounds the same, It is so easy to p.r.o.nounce.

But still, there is an hour or so Of pleasure for the man who dips Into his book and comes to know Good Samuel Pepys, Peps or Pips.

QUINTILIAN

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Quintilian, years and years ago, Was It on oratory; Demosthenes and Cicero He studied con amore; He ran an elocution school And taught the Roman lispers The reason and the rote and rule For requesting father, dear father, to come home with me now, in most pathetic whispers.

'Twas he who showed that thus and thus One should appear when stating The last remarks of Spartacus On ceasing gladiating.

(Perchance the word we just have used Escaped your dictionary.

We mean when Spartacus refused To be butchered to make a Roman holiday exceedingly exciting and otherwise gladsome and merry.)

Quintilian's book on How to Speak Is cla.s.sic at this moment; It tells the speaker when to shriek And when his rage to foment.