Lyra Frivola Part 1

Lyra Frivola.

by A. D. G.o.dley.

AFTER HORACE

What asks the Bard? He prays for nought But what the truly virtuous crave: That is, the things he plainly ought To have.

'Tis not for wealth, with all the shocks That vex distracted millionaires, Plagued by their fluctuating stocks And shares:

While plutocrats their millions new Expend upon each costly whim, A great deal less than theirs will do For him;

The simple incomes of the poor His meek poetic soul content: Say, L30,000 at four Per cent.!

His taste in residence is plain: No palaces his heart rejoice: A cottage in a lane (Park Lane For choice)--

Here be his days in quiet spent: Here let him meditate the Muse: Baronial Halls were only meant For Jews,

And lands that stretch with endless span From east to west, from south to north, Are often much more trouble than They're worth!

Let epicures who eat too much Become uncomfortably stout: Let gourmets feel th' approaching touch Of gout,--

The Bard subsists on simpler food: A dinner, not severely plain, A pint or so of really good Champagne--

Grant him but these, no care he'll take Though Laureates bask in Fortune's smile, Though Kiplings and Corellis make Their pile:

Contented with a scantier dole His humble Muse serenely jogs, Remote from scenes where authors roll Their logs:

Far from the madding crowd she lurks, And really cares no single jot Whether the public read her works Or not!

THE JOURNALIST ABROAD

When Parson, Doctor, Don,-- In short, when all the nation Goes gaily off upon Its annual vacation, Their cares professional No more avail to bind them: They go at Pleasure's call And leave their trades behind them.

Like them, departs afar From England's fogs and vapours The literary star, The writer for the papers: But not, like them, at home Leaves he his calling's fetters: Nought can release him from The tyranny of Letters!

When cla.s.sic scenes amid For rest and peace he hankers, _Amari aliquid_ His joys aesthetic cankers: Whate'er he sees, he knows He has to write upon it A paragraph of prose Or possibly a sonnet:

By mountain lakelets blue, 'Mid wild romantic heath, he's A martyr always to _Scribendi cacoethes_: The Naiad-haunted stream Or lonely mountain-top he Considers as a theme Available for "copy."

If on the sunlit main With ardour rapt he gazes, He's torturing his brain For neat pictorial phrases: When in a s.h.i.+p or boat He navigates the briny (And here 'tis his to quote Examples set by Heine)

While fellow-pa.s.sengers Lie stretched in mere prostration, He duly registers Each horrible sensation-- He notes his qualms with care, And bids the public know 'em In "Thoughts on Mal de Mer,"

Or "Nausea: a Poem."

Such is his earthly lot: Nor is it wholly certain If Death for him or not Rings down the final curtain, Or if, when hence he's fled To worlds or worse or better, He'll send per Mr St--d A crisp descriptive letter!

VERNAL VERSES

When early worms began to crawl, and early birds to sing, And frost, and mud, and snow, and rain proclaimed the jocund spring, Its all-pervading influence the Poet's soul obeyed-- He made a song to greet the Spring, and this is what he made:--

They sadly lacked enlightenment, our ancestors of old, Who used to suffer simply from an ordinary cold: But we, of Science' mysteries less ignorant by far, Have nothing less distinguished than a Bronchial Catarrh!

O when your head's a lump of lead and nought can do but sneeze: Whene'er in turn you freeze and burn, and then you burn and freeze:-- It does not mean you're going to die, although you think you are-- These are the primal symptoms of a Bronchial Catarrh.

And when you've taken drugs and pills, and stayed indoors a week, Yet still your chest with pain opprest will hardly let you speak: Amid your darksome miseries be this your guiding star-- 'Tis simply the remainder of a Bronchial Catarrh.

In various ways do various men invite misfortune's rods,-- Some row within their College boat,--some Logic read for Mods.: But oh! of all the human ills our happiness that mar I do not know the equal of a Bronchial Catarrh!

PENSeES DE NOEL

When the landlord wants the rent Of your humble tenement, When the Christmas bills begin Daily, hourly pouring in, When you pay your gas and poor rate, Tip the rector, fee the curate, Let this thought your spirit cheer-- Christmas comes but once a year.

When the man who brings the coal Claims his customary dole: When the postman rings and knocks For his usual Christmas-box: When you're dunned by half the town With demands for half-a-crown,-- Think, although they cost you dear, Christmas comes but once a year.

When you roam from shop to shop, Seeking, till you nearly drop, Christmas cards and small donations For the maw of your relations, Questing vainly 'mid the heap For a thing that's nice, and cheap: Think, and check the rising tear, Christmas comes but once a year.

Though for three successive days Business quits her usual ways, Though the milkman's voice be dumb, Though the paper doesn't come; Though you want tobacco, but Find that all the shops are shut: Bravely still your sorrows bear-- Christmas comes but once a year.

When mince-pies you can't digest Join with waits to break your rest: When, oh when, to crown your woe, Persons who might better know Think it needful that you should Don a gay convivial mood;-- Bear with fort.i.tude and patience These afflicting dispensations: Man was born to suffer here: Christmas comes but once a year.

AD LECTIONEM SUAM

When Autumn's winds denude the grove, I seek my Lecture, where it lurks 'Mid the unpublished portion of My works,

And ponder, while its sheets I scan, How many years away have slipt Since first I penned that ancient man- uscript.

I know thee well--nor can mistake The old accustomed pencil stroke Denoting where I mostly make A joke,--

Or where coy brackets signify Those echoes faint of cla.s.sic wit Which, if a lady's present, I Omit.

Though Truth enlarge her widening range, And Knowledge be with time increased, While thou, my Lecture! dost not change The least,

But fixed immutable amidst The advent of a newer lore, Maintainest calmly what thou didst Before: