A Nonsense Anthology Part 30

(Isn't it, old Fatchops? You're in Euclid now.) So, having the s.h.i.+lling--having i' fact a lot-- And pence and halfpence, ever so many o' them, I purchased, as I think I said before, The pebble (_lapis, lapidis, di, dem, de_-- What nouns 'crease short i' the genitive, Fatchops, eh?) O the boy, a bare-legg'd beggarly son of a gun, For one-and-fourpence. Here we are again.

Now Law steps in, biwigged, voluminous-jaw'd; Investigates and re-investigates.

Was the transaction illegal? Law shakes head.

Perpend, sir, all the bearings of the case.

At first the coin was mine, the chattel his.

But now (by virtue of the said exchange And barter) _vice versa_ all the coin, _Rer juris operationem_, vests I' the boy and his a.s.signs till ding o' doom; _In saecula saeculo-o-o-orum_; (I think I hear the Abate mouth out that.) To have and hold the same to him and them ...

Confer some idiot on Conveyancing.

Whereas the pebble and every part thereof, And all that appertaineth thereunto, _Quodcunque pertinet ad em rem_, (I fancy, sir, my Latin's rather pat) Or shall, will, may, might, can, could, would, or should, _Subaudi caetera_--clap we to the close-- For what's the good of law in such a case o' the kind Is mine to all intents and purposes.

This settled, I resume the thread o' the tale.

Now for a touch o' the vendor's quality.

He says a gen'lman bought a pebble of him, (This pebble i' sooth, sir, which I hold i' my hand)-- And paid for 't, _like_ a gen'lman, on the nail.

"Did I o'ercharge him a ha'penny? Devil a bit.

Fiddlepin's end! Get out, you blazing a.s.s!

Gabble o' the goose. Don't bugaboo-baby _me_!

Go double or quits? Yah! t.i.ttup! what's the odds?"

--There's the transaction viewed in the vendor's light.

Next ask that dumpled hag, stood snuffling by, With her three frowsy blowsy brats o' babes, The sc.u.m o' the Kennel, cream o' the filth-heap--Faugh!

Aie, aie, aie, aie! [Greek: otototototoi], ('Stead which we blurt out, Hoighty toighty now)-- And the baker and candlestick maker, and Jack and Gill, Blear'd Goody this and queasy Gaffer that, Ask the Schoolmaster, Take Schoolmaster first.

He saw a gentleman purchase of a lad A stone, and pay for it _rite_ on the square, And carry it off _per saltum_, jauntily _Propria quae maribus_, gentleman's property now (Agreeable to the law explained above).

_In proprium usum_, for his private ends, The boy he chucked a brown i' the air, and bit I' the face the s.h.i.+lling; heaved a thumping stone At a lean hen that ran cluck-clucking by, (And hit her, dead as nail i' post o' door,) Then _abiit_--What's the Ciceronian phrase?

_Excessit, evasit, erupit_--off slogs boy; Off like bird, _avi similis_--(you observed The dative? Pretty i' the Mantuan!)--_Anglice_ Off in three flea skips. _Hactenus_, so far, So good, _tam bene. Bene, satis, male_,-- Where was I with my trope 'bout one in a quag?

I did once hitch the Syntax into verse _Verb.u.m personale_, a verb personal, _Concordat_--"ay", agrees old Fatchops--_c.u.m Nominativo_, with its nominative, _Genere_, i' point of gender, _numero_, O' number, _et persona_, and person. _Ut_, Instance: _Sol ruit_, down flops sun, _et_ and, _Montes umbrantur_, out flounce mountains. Pah!

Excuse me, sir, I think I'm going mad.

You see the trick on't, though, and can yourself Continue the discourse _ad libitum_.

It takes up about eighty thousand lines, A thing imagination boggles at; And might, odds-bobs, sir! in judicious hands Extend from here to Mesopotamy.

_C.S. Calverley_.

LOVERS AND A REFLECTION

In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter (And heaven it knoweth what that may mean; Meaning, however, is no great matter) Where woods are a-tremble with words a-tween;

Thro' G.o.d's own heather we wonned together, I and my Willie (O love my love): I need hardly remark it was glorious weather, And flitter-bats wavered alow, above:

Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing, (Boats in that climate are so polite,) And sands were a ribbon of green endowing, And O the sun-dazzle on bark and bight!

Thro' the rare red heather we danced together (O love my Willie,) and smelt for flowers: I must mention again it was glorious weather, Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours:

By rises that flushed with their purple favors, Thro' becks that brattled o'er gra.s.ses sheen, We walked or waded, we two young shavers, Thanking our stars we were both so green.

We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie, In fortunate parallels! b.u.t.terflies, Hid in weltering shadows of daffodilly Or marjoram, kept making peac.o.c.k eyes:

Song-birds darted about, some inky As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds; Or rosy as pinks, or as roses pinky-- They reek of no eerie To-come, those birds!

But they skim over bents which the mill-stream washes, Or hang in the lift 'neath a white cloud's hem; They need no parasols, no goloshes; And good Mrs. Trimmer she feedeth them.

Then we thrid G.o.d's cowslips (as erst his heather), That endowed the wan gra.s.s with their golden blooms; And snapt--(it was perfectly charming weather)-- Our fingers at Fate and her G.o.ddess-glooms:

And Willie 'gan sing--(Oh, his notes were fluty; Wafts fluttered them out to the white-winged sea)-- Something made up of rhymes that have done much duty, Rhymes (better to put it) of "ancientry":

Bowers of flowers encountered showers In William's carol--(O love my Willie!) Then he bade sorrow borrow from blithe tomorrow I quite forget what--say a daffodilly.

A nest in a hollow, "with buds to follow,"

I think occurred next in his nimble strain; And clay that was "kneaden" of course in Eden-- A rhyme most novel I do maintain:

Mists, bones, the singer himself, love-stories, And all least furlable things got furled; Not with any design to conceal their glories, But simply and solely to rhyme with world.

O if billows and pillows and hours and flowers, And all the brave rhymes of an elder day, Could be furled together, this genial weather, And carted or carried on wafts away,

Nor ever again trotted out--ah me!

How much fewer volumes of verse there'd be.

_C.S. Calverley_

AN IMITATION OF WORDSWORTH

There is a river clear and fair, 'Tis neither broad nor narrow; It winds a little here and there-- It winds about like any hare; And then it takes as straight a course As on the turnpike road a horse, Or through the air an arrow.

The trees that grow upon the sh.o.r.e, Have grown a hundred years or more; So long there is no knowing.

Old Daniel Dobson does not know When first these trees began to grow; But still they grew, and grew, and grew, As if they'd nothing else to do, But ever to be growing.

The impulses of air and sky Have rear'd their stately heads so high, And clothed their boughs with green; Their leaves the dews of evening quaff,-- And when the wind blows loud and keen, I've seen the jolly timbers laugh, And shake their sides with merry glee-- Wagging their heads in mockery.

Fix'd are their feet in solid earth, Where winds can never blow; But visitings of deeper birth Have reach'd their roots below.

For they have gain'd the river's brink, And of the living waters drink.

There's little Will, a five years child-- He is my youngest boy: To look on eyes so fair and wild, It is a very joy:-- He hath conversed with sun and shower, And dwelt with every idle flower, As fresh and gay as them.

He loiters with the briar rose,-- The blue-belles are his play-fellows, That dance upon their slender stem.

And I have said, my little Will, Why should not he continue still A thing of Nature's rearing?

A thing beyond the world's control-- A living vegetable soul,-- No human sorrow fearing.

It were a blessed sight to see That child become a Willow-tree, His brother trees among.

He'd be four times as tall as me, And live three times as long.

_Catharine M. Fanshawe_.