Society and the World

Reply to Comrade Kuo Mo-Jo

On this tiny globe
A few flies dash themselves against the wall,
Humming without cease,
Sometimes shrilling,
Sometimes moaning.
Ants on the locust tree assume a great-nation swagger
And mayflies lightly plot to topple the giant tree.
The west wind scatters leaves over Changan,
And the arrows are flying, twanging.
So many deeds cry out to be done,
And always urgently;
The world rolls on,
Time presses.
Ten thousand years are too long,
Seize the day, seize the hour!
The Four Seas are rising, clouds and waters raging,
The Five Continents are rocking, wind and thunder roaring.
Our force is irresistible,
Away with all pests!

Militia Women Inscription on a Photograph

How bright and brave they look, shouldering five-foot rifles
On the parade ground lit up by the first gleams of day.
China's daughters have high-aspiring minds,
They love their battle array, not silks and satins.

Militia Women Inscription on a Photograph

How bright and brave they look, shouldering five-foot rifles
On the parade ground lit up by the first gleams of day.
China's daughters have high-aspiring minds,
They love their battle array, not silks and satins.

New Year's Day

Ninghua, Chingliu, Kueihua
What narrow paths, deep woods and slippery moss!
Whither are we bound today?
Straight to the foot of Wuyi Mountain.
To the mountain, the foot of the mountain,
Red flags stream in the wind in a blaze of glory.

Loushan Pass

Fierce the west wind,
Wild geese cry under the frosty morning moon.
Under the frosty morning moon
Horses' hooves clattering,
Bugles sobbing low.
Idle boast the strong pass is a wall of iron,
With firm strides we are crossing its summit.
We are crossing its summit,
The rolling hills sea-blue,
The dying sun blood-red.

Loushan Pass

Fierce the west wind,
Wild geese cry under the frosty morning moon.
Under the frosty morning moon
Horses' hooves clattering,
Bugles sobbing low.
Idle boast the strong pass is a wall of iron,
With firm strides we are crossing its summit.
We are crossing its summit,
The rolling hills sea-blue,
The dying sun blood-red.

Huichang


Soon dawn will break in the east.
Do not say 'You start too early';
Crossing these blue hills adds nothing to one's years,
The landscape here is beyond compare.
Straight from the walls of Huichang lofty peaks,
Range after range, extend to the eastern seas.
Our soldiers point southward to Kwangtung
Looming lusher and greener in the distance.

Chingkangshan


Below the hills fly our flags and banners,
Above the hilltops sound our bugles and drums.
The foe encircles us thousands strong,
Steadfastly we stand our ground.
Already our defence is iron-clad,
Now our wills unite like a fortress.
From Huangyangchieh roars the thunder of guns,
Word comes the enemy has fled into the night.

Chingkangshan


Below the hills fly our flags and banners,
Above the hilltops sound our bugles and drums.
The foe encircles us thousands strong,
Steadfastly we stand our ground.
Already our defence is iron-clad,
Now our wills unite like a fortress.
From Huangyangchieh roars the thunder of guns,
Word comes the enemy has fled into the night.

Ascent of Lushan

Perching as after flight, the mountain towers over the Yangtze;
I have overleapt four hundred twists to its green crest.
Cold-eyed I survey the world beyond the seas;
A hot wind spatters raindrops on the sky-brooded waters.
Clouds cluster over the nine streams, the yellow crane floating,
And billows roll on to the eastern coast, white foam flying.
Who knows whither Prefect Tao Yuan-ming is gone
Now that he can till fields in the Land of Peach Blossoms?

Against the First Encirclement Campaign

Forests blaze red beneath the frosty sky,
The wrath of Heaven's armies soars to the clouds.
Mist veils Lungkang, its thousand peaks blurred.
All cry out in unison:
Our van has taken Chang Hui-tsan!
The enemy returns to Kiangsi two hundred thousand strong,
Fumes billowing in the wind in mid-sky.
Workers and peasants are wakened in their millions
To fight as one man,
Under the riot of red flags round the foot of Puchou !

Against the First Encirclement Campaign

Forests blaze red beneath the frosty sky,
The wrath of Heaven's armies soars to the clouds.
Mist veils Lungkang, its thousand peaks blurred.
All cry out in unison:
Our van has taken Chang Hui-tsan!
The enemy returns to Kiangsi two hundred thousand strong,
Fumes billowing in the wind in mid-sky.
Workers and peasants are wakened in their millions
To fight as one man,
Under the riot of red flags round the foot of Puchou !

Against the First Encirclement Campaign

Forests blaze red beneath the frosty sky,
The wrath of Heaven's armies soars to the clouds.
Mist veils Lungkang, its thousand peaks blurred.
All cry out in unison:
Our van has taken Chang Hui-tsan!
The enemy returns to Kiangsi two hundred thousand strong,
Fumes billowing in the wind in mid-sky.
Workers and peasants are wakened in their millions
To fight as one man,
Under the riot of red flags round the foot of Puchou !

The White Knight's Song

'Haddock's Eyes' or 'The Aged Aged Man' or
'Ways and Means' or 'ASitting
On A Gate'

I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged, aged man,
Asitting
on a gate.
'Who are you, aged man?' I said.
'And how is it you live?'
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.


He said 'I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat;
I make them into muttonpies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,' he said,
'Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my breadA
trifle, if you please.'


But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That it could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, 'Come, tell me how you live!'
And thumped him on the head.


His accents mild took up the tale;
He said, 'I go my ways,
And when I find a mountainrill,
I set it in a blaze.
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar OilYet
twopencehalfpenny
is all
They give me for my toil.'


But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue;
'Come, tell me how you live,' I cried
'And what it is you do!'


He said, 'I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoatbuttons
In the silent night.



And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.


'I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of hansomcabs.
And that's the way' (he gave a wink)
'By which I get my wealthAnd
very gladly will I drink
Your Honor's noble health.'


I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.


And now, if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a righthand
foot
Into a lefthand
shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe


A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to knowWhose
look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffaloThat
summer evening long ago

Asitting
on a gate.

The Hunting of the Snark

Fit the First
THE LANDING


'Just the place for a Snark!' the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.


'Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
That alone should encourage the crew.
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
What i tell you three times is true.'


The crew was complete: it included a BootsA
maker of Bonnets and HoodsA
Barrister, brought to arrange their disputesAnd
a Broker, to value their goods.


A Billiardmaker,
whose skill was immense,
Might perhaps have won more than his shareBut
a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
Had the whole of their cash in his care.


There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
Though none of the sailors knew how.


There was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had bought for the trip.


He had fortytwo
boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.


The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pairs of bootsbut
the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.


He would answer to 'Hi!' or to any loud cry,
Such as 'Fry me!' or 'Fritter my wig!'
To 'Whatyoumaycallum!'
or 'Whatwashisname!'
But especially 'Thingumajig!'


While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
He had different names from these:
His intimate friends called him 'Candleends,'
And his enemies 'Toastedcheese.'



'His form in ungainlyhis
intellect small'
(So the Bellman would often remark)
'But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
Is the thing that one needs with a Snark.'


He would joke with hyenas, returning their stare
With an impudent wag of the head:
And he once went a walk, pawinpaw,
with a bear,
'Just to keep up its spirits,' he said.


He came as a Baker: but owned, when too lateAnd
it drove the poor Bellman halfmadHe
could only bake Bridecakefor
which, I may state,
No materials were to be had.


The last of the crew needs especial remark,
Though he looked an incredible dunce:
He had just one ideabut,
that one being 'Snark,'
The good Bellman engaged him at once.


He came as a Butcher: but gravely declared,
When the ship had been sailing a week,
He could only kill Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
And was almost too frightened to speak:


But at length he explained, in a tremulous tone,
There was only one Beaver on board;
And that was a tame one he had of his own,
Whose death would be deeply deplored.


The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
Protested, with tears in its eyes,
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
Could atone for that dismal surprise!


It strongly advised that the Butcher should be
Conveyed in a separate ship:
But the Bellman declared that would never agree
With the plans he had made for the trip:


Navigation was always a difficult art,
Though with only one ship and one bell:
And he feared he must really decline, for his part,
Undertaking another as well.


The Beaver's best course was, no doubt, to procure
A secondhand
daggerproof
coatSo
the Baker advised itand
next, to insure
Its life in some Office of note:


This the Banker suggested, and offered for hire



(On moderate terms), or for sale,
Two excellent Policies, one Against Fire,
And one Against Damage From Hail.


Yet still, ever after that sorrowful day,
Whenever the Butcher was by,
The Beaver kept looking the opposite way,
And appeared unaccountably shy.


Fit the Second
THE BELLMAN'S SPEECH


The Bellman himself they all praised to the skiesSuch
a carriage, such ease and such grace!
Such solemnity, too! One could see he was wise,
The moment one looked in his face!


He had bought a large map representing the sea,
Without the least vestige of land:
And the crew were much pleased when they found it to be
A map they could all understand.


'What's the good of Mercator's North Poles and Equators,
Tropics, Zones, and Meridian Lines?'
So the Bellman would cry: and the crew would reply
'They are merely conventional signs!


'Other maps are such shapes, with their islands and capes!
But we've got our brave Captain to thank:
(So the crew would protest) 'that he's bought us the bestA
perfect and absolute blank!'


This was charming, no doubt; but they shortly found out
That the Captain they trusted so well
Had only one notion for crossing the ocean,
And that was to tingle his bell.


He was thoughtful and gravebut
the orders he gave
Were enough to bewilder a crew.
When he cried 'Steer to starboard, but keep her head larboard!'
What on earth was the helmsman to do?


Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes:
A thing, as the Bellman remarked,
That frequently happens in tropical climes,
When a vessel is, so to speak, 'snarked.'


But the principal failing occurred in the sailing,
And the Bellman, perplexed and distressed,
Said he had hoped, at least, when the wind blew due East,
That the ship would not travel due West!



But the danger was pastthey
had landed at last,
With their boxes, portmanteaus, and bags:
Yet at first sight the crew were not pleased with the view,
Which consisted to chasms and crags.


The Bellman perceived that their spirits were low,
And repeated in musical tone
Some jokes he had kept for a season of woeBut
the crew would do nothing but groan.


He served out some grog with a liberal hand,
And bade them sit down on the beach:
And they could not but own that their Captain looked grand,
As he stood and delivered his speech.


'Friends, Romans, and countrymen, lend me your ears!'
(They were all of them fond of quotations:
So they drank to his health, and they gave him three cheers,
While he served out additional rations).


'We have sailed many months, we have sailed many weeks,
(Four weeks to the month you may mark),
But never as yet ('tis your Captain who speaks)
Have we caught the least glimpse of a Snark!


'We have sailed many weeks, we have sailed many days,
(Seven days to the week I allow),
But a Snark, on the which we might lovingly gaze,
We have never beheld till now!


'Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again
The five unmistakable marks
By which you may know, wheresoever you go,
The warranted genuine Snarks.


'Let us take them in order. The first is the taste,
Which is meager and hollow, but crisp:
Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist,
With a flavor of Willothewisp.


'Its habit of getting up late you'll agree
That it carries too far, when I say
That it frequently breakfasts at fiveo'clock
tea,
And dines on the following day.


'The third is its slowness in taking a jest.
Should you happen to venture on one,
It will sigh like a thing that is deeply distressed:
And it always looks grave at a pun.


'The fourth is its fondness for bathingmachines,



Which is constantly carries about,
And believes that they add to the beauty of scenesA
sentiment open to doubt.


'The fifth is ambition. It next will be right
To describe each particular batch:
Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite,
And those that have whiskers, and scratch.


'For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm,
Yet, I feel it my duty to say,
Some are Boojums'
The Bellman broke off in alarm,
For the Baker had fainted away.


Fit the Third
THE BAKER'S TALE


They roused him with muffinsthey
roused him with iceThey
roused him with mustard and cressThey
roused him with jam and judicious adviceThey
set him conundrums to guess.


When at length he sat up and was able to speak,
His sad story he offered to tell;
And the Bellman cried 'Silence! Not even a shriek!'
And excitedly tingled his bell.


There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
Scarcely even a howl or a groan,
As the man they called 'Ho!' told his story of woe
In an antediluvian tone.


'My father and mother were honest, though poor'
'Skip all that!' cried the Bellman in haste.
'If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a SnarkWe
have hardly a minute to waste!'


'I skip forty years,' said the Baker, in tears,
'And proceed without further remark
To the day when you took me aboard of your ship
To help you in hunting the Snark.


'A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
Remarked, when I bade him farewell'
'Oh, skip your dear uncle!' the Bellman exclaimed,
As he angrily tingled his bell.


'He remarked to me then,' said that mildest of men,
' 'If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:
Fetch it home by all meansyou
may serve it with greens,
And it's handy for striking a light.



' 'You may seek it with thimblesand
seek it with care;
You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may threaten its life with a railwayshare;
You may charm it with smiles and soap'
'


('That's exactly the method,' the Bellman bold
In a hasty parenthesis cried,
'That's exactly the way I have always been told
That the capture of Snarks should be tried!')


' 'But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!'


'It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul,
When I think of my uncle's last words:
And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl
Brimming over with quivering curds!


'It is this, it is this'
'We have had that before!'
The Bellman indignantly said.
And the Baker replied 'Let me say it once more.
It is this, it is this that I dread!


'I engage with the Snarkevery
night after darkIn
a dreamy delirious fight:
I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,
And I use it for striking a light:


'But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,
In a moment (of this I am sure),
I shall softly and suddenly vanish awayAnd
the notion I cannot endure!'


Fit the fourth
THE HUNTING


The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow.
'If only you'd spoken before!
It's excessively awkward to mention it now,
With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!


'We should all of us grieve, as you well may believe,
If you never were met with againBut
surely, my man, when the voyage began,
You might have suggested it then?


'It's excessively awkward to mention it nowAs
I think I've already remarked.'



And the man they called 'Hi!' replied, with a sigh,
'I informed you the day we embarked.


'You may charge me with murderor
want of sense(
We are all of us weak at times):
But the slightest approach to a false pretense
Was never among my crimes!


'I said it in HebrewI
said it in DutchI
said it in German and Greek:
But I wholly forgot (and it vexes me much)
That English is what you speak!'


''Tis a pitiful tale,' said the Bellman, whose face
Had grown longer at every word:
'But, now that you've stated the whole of your case,
More debate would be simply absurd.


'The rest of my speech' (he explained to his men)
'You shall hear when I've leisure to speak it.
But the Snark is at hand, let me tell you again!
'Tis your glorious duty to seek it!


'To seek it with thimbles, to seek it with care;
To pursue it with forks and hope;
To threaten its life with a railwayshare;
To charm it with smiles and soap!


'For the Snark's a peculiar creature, that won't
Be caught in a commonplace way.
Do all that you know, and try all that you don't:
Not a chance must be wasted today!


'For England expectsI
forbear to proceed:
'Tis a maxim tremendous, but trite:
And you'd best be unpacking the things that you need
To rig yourselves out for the fight.'


Then the Banker endorsed a blank check (which he crossed),
And changed his loose silver for notes.
The Baker with care combed his whiskers and hair,
And shook the dust out of his coats.


The Boots and the Broker were sharpening a spadeEach
working the grindstone in turn:
But the Beaver went on making lace, and displayed
No interest in the concern:


Though the Barrister tried to appeal to its pride,
And vainly proceeded to cite
A number of cases, in which making laces
Had been proved an infringement of right.



The maker of Bonnets ferociously planned
A novel arrangement of bows:
While the Billiardmarker
with quivering hand
Was chalking the tip of his nose.


But the Butcher turned nervous, and dressed himself fine,
With yellow kid gloves and a ruffSaid
he felt it exactly like going to dine,
Which the Bellman declared was all 'stuff.'


'Introduce me, now there's a good fellow,' he said,
'If we happen to meet it together!'
And the Bellman, sagaciously nodding his head,
Said 'That must depend on the weather.'


The Beaver went simply galumphing about,
At seeing the Butcher so shy:
And even the Baker, though stupid and stout,
Made an effort to wink with one eye.


'Be a man!' said the Bellman in wrath, as he heard
The Butcher beginning to sob.
'Should we meet with a Jubjub, that desperate bird,
We shall need all our strength for the job!'


Fit the Fifth
THE BEAVER'S LESSON


They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railwayshare;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.


Then the Butcher contrived an ingenious plan
For making a separate sally;
And fixed on a spot unfrequented by man,
A dismal and desolate valley.


But the very same plan to the Beaver occurred:
It had chosen the very same place:
Yet neither betrayed, by a sign or a word,
The disgust that appeared in his face.


Each thought he was thinking of nothing but 'Snark'
And the glorious work of the day;
And each tried to pretend that he did not remark
That the other was going that way.


But the valley grew narrow and narrower still,
And the evening got darker and colder,



Till (merely from nervousness, not from goodwill)
They marched along shoulder to shoulder.


Then a scream, shrill and high, rent the shuddering sky,
And they knew that some danger was near:
The Beaver turned pale to the tip of its tail,
And even the Butcher felt queer.


He thought of his childhood, left far far behindThat
blissful and innocent stateThe
sound so exactly recalled to his mind
A pencil that squeaks on a slate!


''Tis the voice of the Jubjub!' he suddenly cried.
(This man, that they used to call 'Dunce.')
'As the Bellman would tell you,' he added with pride,
'I have uttered that sentiment once.


''Tis the note of the Jubjub! Keep count, I entreat;
You will find I have told it you twice.
'Tis the song of the Jubjub! The proof is complete,
If only I've stated it thrice.'


The Beaver had counted with scrupulous care,
Attending to every word:
But it fairly lost heart, and outgrabe in despair,
When the third repetition occurred.


It felt that, in spite of all possible pains,
It had somehow contrived to lose count,
And the only thing now was to rack its poor brains
By reckoning up the amount.


'Two added to oneif
that could but be done,'
It said, 'with one's fingers and thumbs!'
Recollecting with tears how, in earlier years,
It had taken no pains with its sums.


'The thing can be done,' said the Butcher, 'I think.
The thing must be done, I am sure.
The thing shall be done! Bring me paper and ink,
The best there is time to procure.'


The Beaver brought paper,portfolio, pens,
And ink in unfailing supplies:
While strange creepy creatures came out of their dens,
And watched them with wondering eyes.


So engrossed was the Butcher, he heeded them not,
As he wrote with a pen in each hand,
And explained all the while in a popular style
Which the Beaver could well understand.



'Taking Three as the subject to reason aboutA
convenient number to stateWe
add Seven, and Ten, and then multiply out
By One Thousand diminished by Eight.


'The result we proceed to divide, as you see,
By Nine Hundred and Ninety Two:
Then subtract Seventeen, and the answer must be
Exactly and perfectly true.


'The method employed I would gladly explain,
While I have it so clear in my head,
If I had but the time and you had but the brainBut
much yet remains to be said.


'In one moment I've seen what has hitherto been
Enveloped in absolute mystery,
And without extra charge I will give you at large
A Lesson in Natural History.'


In his genial way he proceeded to say
(Forgetting all laws of propriety,
And that giving instruction, without introduction,
Would have caused quite a thrill in Society),


'As to temper the Jubjub's a desperate bird,
Since it lives in perpetual passion:
Its taste in costume is entirely absurdIt
is ages ahead of the fashion:


'But it knows any friend it has met once before:
It never will look at a bride:
And in charitymeetings
it stands at the door,
And collectsthough
it does not subscribe.


' Its flavor when cooked is more exquisite far
Than mutton, or oysters, or eggs:
(Some think it keeps best in an ivory jar,
And some, in mahogany kegs:)


'You boil it in sawdust: you salt it in glue:
You condense it with locusts and tape:
Still keeping one principal object in viewTo
preserve its symmetrical shape.'


The Butcher would gladly have talked till next day,
But he felt that the lesson must end,
And he wept with delight in attempting to say
He considered the Beaver his friend.


While the Beaver confessed, with affectionate looks



More eloquent even than tears,
It had learned in ten minutes far more than all books
Would have taught it in seventy years.


They returned handinhand,
and the Bellman, unmanned
(For a moment) with noble emotion,
Said 'This amply repays all the wearisome days
We have spent on the billowy ocean!'


Such friends, as the Beaver and Butcher became,
Have seldom if ever been known;
In winter or summer, 'twas always the sameYou
could never meet either alone.


And when quarrels aroseas
one frequently finds
Quarrels will, spite of every endeavorThe
song of the Jubjub recurred to their minds,
And cemented their friendship for ever!


Fit the Sixth
THE BARRISTER'S DREAM


They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railwayshare;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.


But the Barrister, weary of proving in vain
That the Beaver's lacemaking
was wrong,
Fell asleep, and in dreams saw the creature quite plain
That his fancy had dwelt on so long.


He dreamed that he stood in a shadowy Court,
Where the Snark, with a glass in its eye,
Dressed in gown, bands, and wig, was defending a pig
On the charge of deserting its sty.


The Witnesses proved, without error or flaw,
That the sty was deserted when found:
And the Judge kept explaining the state of the law
In a soft undercurrent
of sound.


The indictment had never been clearly expressed,
And it seemed that the Snark had begun,
And had spoken three hours, before any one guessed
What the pig was supposed to have done.


The Jury had each formed a different view
(Long before the indictment was read),
And they all spoke at once, so that none of them knew
One word that the others had said.



'You must know '
said the Judge: but the Snark exclaimed 'Fudge!'
That statute is obsolete quite!
Let me tell you, my friends, the whole question depends
On an ancient manorial right.


'In the matter of Treason the pig would appear
To have aided, but scarcely abetted:
While the charge of Insolvency fails, it is clear,
If you grant the plea 'never indebted.'


'The fact of Desertion I will not dispute;
But its guilt, as I trust, is removed
(So far as related to the costs of this suit)
By the Alibi which has been proved.


'My poor client's fate now depends on you votes.'
Here the speaker sat down in his place,
And directed the Judge to refer to his notes
And briefly to sum up the case.


But the Judge said he never had summed up before;
So the Snark undertook it instead,
And summed it so well that it came to far more
Than the Witnesses ever had said!


When the verdict was called for, the Jury declined,
As the word was so puzzling to spell;
But they ventured to hope that the Snark wouldn't mind
Undertaking that duty as well.


So the Snark found the verdict, although, as it owned,
It was spent with the toils of the day:
When it said the word 'GUILTY!' the Jury all groaned,
And some of them fainted away.


Then the Snark pronounced sentence, the Judge being quite
Too nervous to utter a word:
When it rose to its feet, there was silence like night,
And the fall of a pin might be heard.


'Transportation for lift' was the sentence it gave,
'And *then* to be fined forty pound.'
The Jury all cheered, though the Judge said he feared
That the phrase was not legally sound.


But their wild exultation was suddenly checked
When the jailer informed them, with tears,
Such a sentence would have not the slightest effect,
As the pig had been dead for some years.


The Judge left the Court, looking deeply disgusted:



But the Snark, though a little aghast,
As the lawyer to whom the defense was entrusted,
Went bellowing on to the last.


Thus the Barrister dreamed, while the bellowing seemed
To grow every moment more clear:
Till he woke to the knell of a furious bell,
Which the Bellman rang close at his ear.


Fit the Seventh
THE BANKER'S FATE


They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railwayshare;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.


And the Banker, inspired with a courage so new
It was matter for general remark,
Rushed madly ahead and was lost to their view
In his zeal to discover the Snark


But while he was seeking with thimbles and care,
A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh
And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair,
For he knew it was useless to fly.


He offered large discounthe
offered a check
(Drawn 'to bearer') for sevenpoundsten:
But the Bandersnatch merely extended its neck
And grabbed at the Banker again.


Without rest or pausewhile
those frumious jaws
Went savagely snapping aroundHe
skipped and he hopped, and he floundered and flopped,
Till fainting he fell to the ground.


The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared
Led on by that fearstricken
yell:
And the Bellman remarked 'It is just as I feared!'
And solemnly tolled on his bell.


He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace
The least likeness to what he had been:
While so great was his fright that his waistcoat turned whiteA
wonderful thing to be seen!


To the horror of all who were present that day.
He uprose in full evening dress,
And with senseless grimaces endeavored to say
What his tongue could no longer express.



Down he sank in a chairran
his hands through his hairAnd
chanted in mimsiest tones
Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity,
While he rattled a couple of bones.


'Leave him here to his fateit
is getting so late!'
The Bellman exclaimed in a fright.
'We have lost half the day. Any further delay,
And we sha'nt catch a Snark before night!'


Fit the Eighth
THE VANISHING


They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railwayshare;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.


They shuddered to think that the chase might fail,
And the Beaver, excited at last,
Went bounding along on the tip of its tail,
For the daylight was nearly past.


'There is Thingumbob shouting!' the Bellman said,
'He is shouting like mad, only hark!
He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,
He has certainly found a Snark!'


They gazed in delight, while the Butcher exclaimed
'He was always a desperate wag!'
They beheld himtheir
Bakertheir
hero unnamedOn
the top of a neighboring crag.


Erect and sublime, for one moment of time.
In the next, that wild figure they saw
(As if stung by a spasm) plunge into a chasm,
While they waited and listened in awe.


'It's a Snark!' was the sound that first came to their ears,
And seemed almost too good to be true.
Then followed a torrent of laughter and cheers:
Then the ominous words 'It's a Boo'


Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air
A weary and wandering sigh
Then sounded like 'jum!'
but the others declare
It was only a breeze that went by.


They hunted till darkness came on, but they found
Not a button, or feather, or mark,



By which they could tell that they stood on the ground
Where the Baker had met with the Snark.


In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished awayFor
the Snark *was* a Boojum, you see.

The Aged Aged Man

I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
Asitting
on a gate.
"Who are you, aged man?" I said,
"And how is it you live?"
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.


He said, "I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into muttonpies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men," he said,
"Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread—
A trifle; if you please."


But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, "Come, tell me how you live!"
And thumped him on the head.


His accents mild took up the tale:
He said, "I go my ways,
And when I find a mountainrill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's MacassarOil&
mdash;
Yet twopencehalfpenny
is all
They give me for my toil."


But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue:
"Come, tell me how you live," I cried,
"And what it is you do!"


He said, "I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,



And that will purchase nine.


"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of hansomcabs.
And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
"By which I get my wealth—
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour's noble health."


I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.


And now, if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a righthand
foot
Into a lefthand
shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know—
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo—
That summer evening long ago
Asitting
on a gate.

Phantasmagoria CANTO VI ( Dyscomfyture )

As one who strives a hill to climb,
Who never climbed before:
Who finds it, in a little time,
Grow every moment less sublime,
And votes the thing a bore:


Yet, having once begun to try,
Dares not desert his quest,
But, climbing, ever keeps his eye
On one small hut against the sky
Wherein he hopes to rest:


Who climbs till nerve and force are spent,
With many a puff and pant:
Who still, as rises the ascent,
In language grows more violent,
Although in breath more scant:


Who, climbing, gains at length the place
That crowns the upward track.
And, entering with unsteady pace,
Receives a buffet in the face
That lands him on his back:


And feels himself, like one in sleep,
Glide swiftly down again,
A helpless weight, from steep to steep,
Till, with a headlong giddy sweep,
He drops upon the plain


So I, that had resolved to bring
Conviction to a ghost,
And found it quite a different thing
From any human arguing,
Yet dared not quit my post


But, keeping still the end in view
To which I hoped to come,
I strove to prove the matter true
By putting everything I knew
Into an axiom:


Commencing every single phrase
With 'therefore' or 'because,'
I blindly reeled, a hundred ways,
About the syllogistic maze,
Unconscious where I was.


Quoth he "That's regular claptrap:
Don't bluster any more.
Now DO be cool and take a nap!
Such a ridiculous old chap



Was never seen before!


"You're like a man I used to meet,
Who got one day so furious
In arguing, the simple heat
Scorched both his slippers off his feet!"
I said "THAT'S VERY CURIOUS!"


"Well, it IS curious, I agree,
And sounds perhaps like fibs:
But still it's true as true can be As
sure as your name's Tibbs," said he.
I said "My name's NOT Tibbs."


"NOT Tibbs!" he cried his
tone became
A shade or two less hearty "
Why, no," said I. "My proper name
Is Tibbets "
"Tibbets?" "Aye, the same."
"Why, then YOU'RE NOT THE PARTY!"


With that he struck the board a blow
That shivered half the glasses.
"Why couldn't you have told me so
Three quarters of an hour ago,
You prince of all the asses?


"To walk four miles through mud and rain,
To spend the night in smoking,
And then to find that it's in vain And
I've to do it all again It's
really TOO provoking!


"Don't talk!" he cried, as I began
To mutter some excuse.
"Who can have patience with a man
That's got no more discretion than
An idiotic goose?


"To keep me waiting here, instead
Of telling me at once
That this was not the house!" he said.
"There, that'll do be
off to bed!
Don't gape like that, you dunce!"


"It's very fine to throw the blame
On ME in such a fashion!
Why didn't you enquire my name
The very minute that you came?"
I answered in a passion.


"Of course it worries you a bit
To come so far on foot



But how was I to blame for it?"
"Well, well!" said he. "I must admit
That isn't badly put.


"And certainly you've given me
The best of wine and victual Excuse
my violence," said he,
"But accidents like this, you see,
They put one out a little.


"'Twas MY fault after all, I find Shake
hands, old Turniptop!"
The name was hardly to my mind,
But, as no doubt he meant it kind,
I let the matter drop.


"Goodnight,
old Turniptop,
goodnight!
When I am gone, perhaps
They'll send you some inferior Sprite,
Who'll keep you in a constant fright
And spoil your soundest naps.


"Tell him you'll stand no sort of trick;
Then, if he leers and chuckles,
You just be handy with a stick
(Mind that it's pretty hard and thick)
And rap him on the knuckles!


"Then carelessly remark 'Old coon!
Perhaps you're not aware
That, if you don't behave, you'll soon
Be chuckling to another tune And
so you'd best take care!'


"That's the right way to cure a Sprite
Of such like goingson
But
gracious me! It's getting light!
Goodnight,
old Turniptop,
goodnight!"
A nod, and he was gone.

Phantasmagoria CANTO VI ( Dyscomfyture )

As one who strives a hill to climb,
Who never climbed before:
Who finds it, in a little time,
Grow every moment less sublime,
And votes the thing a bore:


Yet, having once begun to try,
Dares not desert his quest,
But, climbing, ever keeps his eye
On one small hut against the sky
Wherein he hopes to rest:


Who climbs till nerve and force are spent,
With many a puff and pant:
Who still, as rises the ascent,
In language grows more violent,
Although in breath more scant:


Who, climbing, gains at length the place
That crowns the upward track.
And, entering with unsteady pace,
Receives a buffet in the face
That lands him on his back:


And feels himself, like one in sleep,
Glide swiftly down again,
A helpless weight, from steep to steep,
Till, with a headlong giddy sweep,
He drops upon the plain


So I, that had resolved to bring
Conviction to a ghost,
And found it quite a different thing
From any human arguing,
Yet dared not quit my post


But, keeping still the end in view
To which I hoped to come,
I strove to prove the matter true
By putting everything I knew
Into an axiom:


Commencing every single phrase
With 'therefore' or 'because,'
I blindly reeled, a hundred ways,
About the syllogistic maze,
Unconscious where I was.


Quoth he "That's regular claptrap:
Don't bluster any more.
Now DO be cool and take a nap!
Such a ridiculous old chap



Was never seen before!


"You're like a man I used to meet,
Who got one day so furious
In arguing, the simple heat
Scorched both his slippers off his feet!"
I said "THAT'S VERY CURIOUS!"


"Well, it IS curious, I agree,
And sounds perhaps like fibs:
But still it's true as true can be As
sure as your name's Tibbs," said he.
I said "My name's NOT Tibbs."


"NOT Tibbs!" he cried his
tone became
A shade or two less hearty "
Why, no," said I. "My proper name
Is Tibbets "
"Tibbets?" "Aye, the same."
"Why, then YOU'RE NOT THE PARTY!"


With that he struck the board a blow
That shivered half the glasses.
"Why couldn't you have told me so
Three quarters of an hour ago,
You prince of all the asses?


"To walk four miles through mud and rain,
To spend the night in smoking,
And then to find that it's in vain And
I've to do it all again It's
really TOO provoking!


"Don't talk!" he cried, as I began
To mutter some excuse.
"Who can have patience with a man
That's got no more discretion than
An idiotic goose?


"To keep me waiting here, instead
Of telling me at once
That this was not the house!" he said.
"There, that'll do be
off to bed!
Don't gape like that, you dunce!"


"It's very fine to throw the blame
On ME in such a fashion!
Why didn't you enquire my name
The very minute that you came?"
I answered in a passion.


"Of course it worries you a bit
To come so far on foot



But how was I to blame for it?"
"Well, well!" said he. "I must admit
That isn't badly put.


"And certainly you've given me
The best of wine and victual Excuse
my violence," said he,
"But accidents like this, you see,
They put one out a little.


"'Twas MY fault after all, I find Shake
hands, old Turniptop!"
The name was hardly to my mind,
But, as no doubt he meant it kind,
I let the matter drop.


"Goodnight,
old Turniptop,
goodnight!
When I am gone, perhaps
They'll send you some inferior Sprite,
Who'll keep you in a constant fright
And spoil your soundest naps.


"Tell him you'll stand no sort of trick;
Then, if he leers and chuckles,
You just be handy with a stick
(Mind that it's pretty hard and thick)
And rap him on the knuckles!


"Then carelessly remark 'Old coon!
Perhaps you're not aware
That, if you don't behave, you'll soon
Be chuckling to another tune And
so you'd best take care!'


"That's the right way to cure a Sprite
Of such like goingson
But
gracious me! It's getting light!
Goodnight,
old Turniptop,
goodnight!"
A nod, and he was gone.

Phantasmagoria CANTO II ( Hys Fyve Rules )

"MY First but
don't suppose," he said,
"I'm setting you a riddle Is
if
your Victim be in bed,
Don't touch the curtains at his head,
But take them in the middle,


"And wave them slowly in and out,
While drawing them asunder;
And in a minute's time, no doubt,
He'll raise his head and look about
With eyes of wrath and wonder.


"And here you must on no pretence
Make the first observation.
Wait for the Victim to commence:
No Ghost of any common sense
Begins a conversation.


"If he should say 'HOW CAME YOU HERE?'
(The way that YOU began, Sir,)
In such a case your course is clear '
ON THE BAT'S BACK, MY LITTLE DEAR!'
Is the appropriate answer.


"If after this he says no more,
You'd best perhaps curtail your
Exertions go
and shake the door,
And then, if he begins to snore,
You'll know the thing's a failure.


"By day, if he should be alone At
home or on a walk You
merely give a hollow groan,
To indicate the kind of tone
In which you mean to talk.


"But if you find him with his friends,
The thing is rather harder.
In such a case success depends
On picking up some candleends,
Or butter, in the larder.


"With this you make a kind of slide
(It answers best with suet),
On which you must contrive to glide,
And swing yourself from side to side One
soon learns how to do it.


"The Second tells us what is right
In ceremonious calls:'
FIRST BURN A BLUE OR CRIMSON LIGHT'
(A thing I quite forgot tonight),



'THEN SCRATCH THE DOOR OR WALLS.'"


I said "You'll visit HERE no more,
If you attempt the Guy.
I'll have no bonfires on MY floor And,
as for scratching at the door,
I'd like to see you try!"


"The Third was written to protect
The interests of the Victim,
And tells us, as I recollect,
TO TREAT HIM WITH A GRAVE RESPECT,
AND NOT TO CONTRADICT HIM."


"That's plain," said I, "as Tare and Tret,
To any comprehension:
I only wish SOME Ghosts I've met
Would not so CONSTANTLY forget
The maxim that you mention!"


"Perhaps," he said, "YOU first transgressed
The laws of hospitality:
All Ghosts instinctively detest
The Man that fails to treat his guest
With proper cordiality.


"If you address a Ghost as 'Thing!'
Or strike him with a hatchet,
He is permitted by the King
To drop all FORMAL parleying And
then you're SURE to catch it!


"The Fourth prohibits trespassing
Where other Ghosts are quartered:
And those convicted of the thing
(Unless when pardoned by the King)
Must instantly be slaughtered.


"That simply means 'be cut up small':
Ghosts soon unite anew.
The process scarcely hurts at all Not
more than when YOU're what you call
'Cut up' by a Review.


"The Fifth is one you may prefer
That I should quote entire:THE
KING MUST BE ADDRESSED AS 'SIR.'
THIS, FROM A SIMPLE COURTIER,
IS ALL THE LAWS REQUIRE:


"BUT, SHOULD YOU WISH TO DO THE THING
WITH OUTANDOUT
POLITENESS,



ACCOST HIM AS 'MY GOBLIN KING!
AND ALWAYS USE, IN ANSWERING,
THE PHRASE 'YOUR ROYAL WHITENESS!'


"I'm getting rather hoarse, I fear,
After so much reciting :
So, if you don't object, my dear,
We'll try a glass of bitter beer I
think it looks inviting."

Fit the Sixth ( Hunting of the Snark )

The Barrister's Dream

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railwayshare;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
But the Barrister, weary of proving in vain
That the Beaver's lacemaking
was wrong,
Fell asleep, and in dreams saw the creature quite plain
That his fancy had dwelt on so long.


He dreamed that he stood in a shadowy Court,
Where the Snark, with a glass in its eye,
Dressed in gown, bands, and wig, was defending a pig
On the charge of deserting its sty.


The Witnesses proved, without error or flaw,
That the sty was deserted when found:
And the Judge kept explaining the state of the law
In a soft undercurrent
of sound.


The indictment had never been clearly expressed,
And it seemed that the Snark had begun,
And had spoken three hours, before any one guessed
What the pig was supposed to have done.


The Jury had each formed a different view
(Long before the indictment was read),
And they all spoke at once, so that none of them knew
One word that the others had said.


"You must know"
said the Judge: but the Snark exclaimed "Fudge!"
That statute is obsolete quite!
Let me tell you, my friends, the whole question depends
On an ancient manorial right.


"In the matter of Treason the pig would appear
To have aided, but scarcely abetted:
While the charge of Insolvency fails, it is clear,
If you grant the plea 'never indebted'.


"The fact of Desertion I will not dispute:
But its guilt, as I trust, is removed
(So far as relates to the costs of this suit)
By the Alibi which has been proved.


"My poor client's fate now depends on your votes."
Here the speaker sat down in his place,
And directed the Judge to refer to his notes
And briefly to sum up the case.


But the Judge said he never had summed up before;



So the Snark undertook it instead,
And summed it so well that it came to far more
Than the Witnesses ever had said!


When the verdict was called for, the Jury declined,
As the word was so puzzling to spell;
But they ventured to hope that the Snark wouldn't mind
Undertaking that duty as well.


So the Snark found the verdict, although, as it owned,
It was spent with the toils of the day:
When it said the word "GUILTY!" the Jury all groaned
And some of them fainted away.


Then the Snark pronounced sentence, the Judge being quite
Too nervous to utter a word:
When it rose to its feet, there was silence like night,
And the fall of a pin might be heard.


"Transportation for life" was the sentence it gave,
"And then to be fined forty pound."
The Jury all cheered, though the Judge said he feared
That the phrase was not legally sound.


But their wild exultation was suddenly checked
When the jailer informed them, with tears,
Such a sentence would not have the slightest effect,
As the pig had been dead for some years.


The Judge left the Court, looking deeply disgusted
But the Snark, though a little aghast,
As the lawyer to whom the defence was intrusted,
Went bellowing on to the last.


Thus the Barrister dreamed, while the bellowing seemed
To grow every moment more clear:
Till he woke to the knell of a furious bell,
Which the Bellman rang close at his ear.

Fit the First: ( Hunting of the Snark )

The Landing

"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.
"Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
That alone should encourage the crew.
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
What I tell you three times is true."


The crew was complete: it included a BootsA
maker of Bonnets and HoodsA
Barrister, brought to arrange their disputesAnd
a Broker, to value their goods.


A Billiardmarker,
whose skill was immense,
Might perhaps have won more than his shareBut
a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
Had the whole of their cash in his care.


There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck
Though none of the sailors knew how.


There was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had bought for the trip.


He had fortytwo
boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.


The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pair of bootsbut
the worst of is was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.


He would answer to "Hi!" or to any loud cry,
Such as "Fry me!" or "Fritter my wig!"
To "Whatyoumaycallum!"
or "Whatwashisname!"
But especially "Thingumajig!"


While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
He had different names from these:
His intimate friends called him "Candleends",
And his enemies "Toastedcheese"


"His form is ungainlyhis
intellect small"



(So the Bellman would often remark)"
But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
Is the thing that one needs with a Snark."


He would joke with hyaenas, returning their stare
With an impudent wag of the head:
And he once went a walk, pawinpaw,
with a bear,
"Just to keep up its spirits," he said.


He came as a Baker: but owned, when too lateAnd
it drove the poor Bellman halfmadHe
could only bake Bridecakefor
which, I may state,
No materials were to be had.


The last of the crew needs especial remark,
Though he looked an incredible dunce:
He had just one ideabut,
that one being "Snark",
The good Bellman engaged him at once.


He came as a Butcher: but gravely declared,
When the ship had been sailing a week,
He could only kill Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
And was almost too frightened to speak:


But at length he explained, in a tremulous tone,
There was only one Beaver on board;
And that was a tame one he had of his own,
Whose death would be deeply deplored.


The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
Protested, with tears in its eyes,
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
Could atone for that dismal surprise!


It strongly advised that the Butcher should be
Conveyed in a separate ship:
But the Bellman declared that would never agree
With the plans he had made for the trip:


Navigation was always a difficult art,
Though with only one ship and one bell:
And he feared he must really decline, for his part,
Undertaking another as well.


The Beaver's best course was, no doubt, to procure
A secondhand
daggerproof
coatSo
the baker advised itand
next, to insure
Its life in some Office of note:


This the Baker suggested, and offered for hire
(On moderate terms), or for sale,
Two excellent Policies, one Against Fire



And one Against Damage From Hail.


Yet still, ever after that sorrowful day,
Whenever the Butcher was by,
The Beaver kept looking the opposite way,
And appeared unaccountably shy.

Fame's Penny-Trumpet

Blow, blow your trumpets till they crack,
Ye little men of little souls!
And bid them huddle at your back Goldsucking
leeches, shoals on shoals!


Fill all the air with hungry wails "
Reward us, ere we think or write!
Without your Gold mere Knowledge fails
To sate the swinish appetite!"


And, where great Plato paced serene,
Or Newton paused with wistful eye,
Rush to the chace with hoofs unclean
And Babelclamour
of the sty


Be yours the pay: be theirs the praise:
We will not rob them of their due,
Nor vex the ghosts of other days
By naming them along with you.


They sought and found undying fame:
They toiled not for reward nor thanks:
Their cheeks are hot with honest shame
For you, the modern mountebanks!


Who preach of Justice plead
with tears
That Love and Mercy should abound While
marking with complacent ears
The moaning of some tortured hound:


Who prate of Wisdom nay,
forbear,
Lest Wisdom turn on you in wrath,
Trampling, with heel that will not spare,
The vermin that beset her path!


Go, throng each other's drawingrooms,
Ye idols of a petty clique:
Strut your brief hour in borrowed plumes,
And make your pennytrumpets
squeak.


Deck your dull talk with pilfered shreds
Of learning from a nobler time,
And oil each other's little heads
With mutual Flattery's golden slime:


And when the topmost height ye gain,
And stand in Glory's ether clear,
And grasp the prize of all your pain So
many hundred pounds a year


Then let Fame's banner be unfurled!
Sing Paeans for a victory won!



Ye tapers, that would light the world,
And cast a shadow on the Sun


Who still shall pour His rays sublime,
One crystal flood, from East to West,
When YE have burned your little time
And feebly flickered into rest!

Fame's Penny-Trumpet

Blow, blow your trumpets till they crack,
Ye little men of little souls!
And bid them huddle at your back Goldsucking
leeches, shoals on shoals!


Fill all the air with hungry wails "
Reward us, ere we think or write!
Without your Gold mere Knowledge fails
To sate the swinish appetite!"


And, where great Plato paced serene,
Or Newton paused with wistful eye,
Rush to the chace with hoofs unclean
And Babelclamour
of the sty


Be yours the pay: be theirs the praise:
We will not rob them of their due,
Nor vex the ghosts of other days
By naming them along with you.


They sought and found undying fame:
They toiled not for reward nor thanks:
Their cheeks are hot with honest shame
For you, the modern mountebanks!


Who preach of Justice plead
with tears
That Love and Mercy should abound While
marking with complacent ears
The moaning of some tortured hound:


Who prate of Wisdom nay,
forbear,
Lest Wisdom turn on you in wrath,
Trampling, with heel that will not spare,
The vermin that beset her path!


Go, throng each other's drawingrooms,
Ye idols of a petty clique:
Strut your brief hour in borrowed plumes,
And make your pennytrumpets
squeak.


Deck your dull talk with pilfered shreds
Of learning from a nobler time,
And oil each other's little heads
With mutual Flattery's golden slime:


And when the topmost height ye gain,
And stand in Glory's ether clear,
And grasp the prize of all your pain So
many hundred pounds a year


Then let Fame's banner be unfurled!
Sing Paeans for a victory won!



Ye tapers, that would light the world,
And cast a shadow on the Sun


Who still shall pour His rays sublime,
One crystal flood, from East to West,
When YE have burned your little time
And feebly flickered into rest!

Fame's Penny-Trumpet

Blow, blow your trumpets till they crack,
Ye little men of little souls!
And bid them huddle at your back Goldsucking
leeches, shoals on shoals!


Fill all the air with hungry wails "
Reward us, ere we think or write!
Without your Gold mere Knowledge fails
To sate the swinish appetite!"


And, where great Plato paced serene,
Or Newton paused with wistful eye,
Rush to the chace with hoofs unclean
And Babelclamour
of the sty


Be yours the pay: be theirs the praise:
We will not rob them of their due,
Nor vex the ghosts of other days
By naming them along with you.


They sought and found undying fame:
They toiled not for reward nor thanks:
Their cheeks are hot with honest shame
For you, the modern mountebanks!


Who preach of Justice plead
with tears
That Love and Mercy should abound While
marking with complacent ears
The moaning of some tortured hound:


Who prate of Wisdom nay,
forbear,
Lest Wisdom turn on you in wrath,
Trampling, with heel that will not spare,
The vermin that beset her path!


Go, throng each other's drawingrooms,
Ye idols of a petty clique:
Strut your brief hour in borrowed plumes,
And make your pennytrumpets
squeak.


Deck your dull talk with pilfered shreds
Of learning from a nobler time,
And oil each other's little heads
With mutual Flattery's golden slime:


And when the topmost height ye gain,
And stand in Glory's ether clear,
And grasp the prize of all your pain So
many hundred pounds a year


Then let Fame's banner be unfurled!
Sing Paeans for a victory won!



Ye tapers, that would light the world,
And cast a shadow on the Sun


Who still shall pour His rays sublime,
One crystal flood, from East to West,
When YE have burned your little time
And feebly flickered into rest!