The Pantomime "Super" To His Mask

Vast empty shell!

Impertinent, preposterous abortion!

With vacant stare,

And ragged hair,

And every feature out of all proportion!

Embodiment of echoing inanity!

Excellent type of simpering insanity!

Unwieldy, clumsy nightmare of humanity!

I ring thy knell!

To-night thou diest,

Beast that destroy'st my heaven-born identity!

Nine weeks of nights,

Before the lights,

Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity,

I've been ill-treated, cursed, and thrashed diurnally,

Credited for the smile you wear externally --

I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally,

As there thou liest!

I've been thy brain:

I've been the brain that lit thy dull concavity!

The human race

Invest my face

With thine expression of unchecked depravity,

Invested with a ghastly reciprocity,

I've been responsible for thy monstrosity,

I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity --

But not again!

'T is time to toll

Thy knell, and that of follies pantomimical:

A nine weeks' run,

And thou hast done

All thou canst do to make thyself inimical.

Adieu, embodiment of all inanity!

Excellent type of simpering insanity!

Unwieldy, clumsy nightmare of humanity!

Freed is thy soul!

        (The mask respondeth.)

Oh! master mine,

Look thou within thee, ere again ill-using me.

Art thou aware

Of nothing there

Which might abuse thee, as thou art abusing me?

A brain that mourns thine unredeemed rascality?

A soul that weeps at thy threadbare morality?

Both grieving that their individuality

Is merged in thine?

The Force Of Argument

Lord B. was a nobleman bold

Who came of illustrious stocks,

He was thirty or forty years old,

And several feet in his socks.

To Turniptopville-by-the-Sea

This elegant nobleman went,

For that was a borough that he

Was anxious to rep-per-re-sent.

At local assemblies he danced

Until he felt thoroughly ill;

He waltzed, and he galoped, and lanced,

And threaded the mazy quadrille.

The maidens of Turniptopville

Were simple -- ingenuous -- pure --

And they all worked away with a will

The nobleman's heart to secure.

Two maidens all others beyond

Endeavoured his cares to dispel --

The one was the lively Ann Pond,

The other sad Mary Morell.

Ann Pond had determined to try

And carry the Earl with a rush;

Her principal feature was eye,

Her greatest accomplishment -- gush.

And Mary chose this for her play:

Whenever he looked in her eye

She'd blush and turn quickly away,

And flitter, and flutter, and sigh.

It was noticed he constantly sighed

As she worked out the scheme she had planned,

A fact he endeavoured to hide

With his aristocratical hand.

Old Pond was a farmer, they say,

And so was old Tommy Morell.

In a humble and pottering way

They were doing exceedingly well.

They both of them carried by vote

The Earl was a dangerous man;

So nervously clearing his throat,

One morning old Tommy began:

"My darter's no pratty young doll --

I'm a plain-spoken Zommerzet man --

Now what do 'ee mean by my Poll,

And what do 'ee mean by his Ann?

Said B., "I will give you my bond

I mean them uncommonly well,

Believe me, my excellent Pond,

And credit me, worthy Morell.

"It's quite indisputable, for

I'll prove it with singular ease, --

You shall have it in 'Barbara' or

'Celarent' -- whichever you please.

'You see, when an anchorite bows

To the yoke of intentional sin,

If the state of the country allows,

Homogeny always steps in --

"It's a highly aesthetical bond,

As any mere ploughboy can tell -- "

"Of course," replied puzzled old Pond.

"I see," said old Tommy Morell.

"Very good, then," continued the lord;

"When it's fooled to the top of its bent,

With a sweep of a Damocles sword

The web of intention is rent.

"That's patent to all of us here,

As any mere schoolboy can tell."

Pond answered, "Of course it's quite clear";

And so did that humbug Morell.

"Its tone's esoteric in force --

I trust that I make myself clear?"

Morell only answered, "Of course,"

While Pond slowly muttered, "Hear, hear."

"Volition -- celestial prize,

Pellucid as porphyry cell --

Is based on a principle wise."

"Quite so," exclaimed Pond and Morell.

"From what I have said you will see

That I couldn't wed either -- in fine,

By Nature's unchanging decree

Your daughters could never be mine.

"Go home to your pigs and your ricks,

My hands of the matter I've rinsed."

So they take up their hats and their sticks, .

And exeunt ambo, convinced.

The Ghost, The Gallant, The Gael, And The Goblin

O'er unreclaimed suburban clays

Some years ago were hobblin'

An elderly ghost of easy ways,

And an influential goblin.

The ghost was a sombre spectral shape,

A fine old five-act fogy,

The goblin imp, a lithe young ape,

A fine low-comedy bogy.

And as they exercised their joints,

Promoting quick digestion,

They talked on several curious points,

And raised this delicate question:

"Which of us two is Number One --

The ghostie, or the goblin?"

And o'er the point they raised in fun

They fairly fell a-squabblin'.

They'd barely speak, and each, in fine,

Grew more and more reflective:

Each thought his own particular line

By chalks the more effective.

At length they settled some one should

By each of them be haunted,

And so arrange that either could

Exert his prowess vaunted.

"The Quaint against the Statuesque" --

By competition lawful --

The goblin backed the Quaint Grotesque,

The ghost the Grandly Awful.

"Now," said the goblin, "here's my plan --

In attitude commanding,

I see a stalwart Englishman

By yonder tailor's standing.

"The very fittest man on earth

My influence to try on --

Of gentle, p'r'aps of noble birth,

And dauntless as a lion!

Now wrap yourself within your shroud --

Remain in easy hearing --

Observe -- you'll hear him scream aloud

When I begin appearing!

The imp with yell unearthly -- wild --

Threw off his dark enclosure:

His dauntless victim looked and smiled

With singular composure.

For hours he tried to daunt the youth,

For days, indeed, but vainly --

The stripling smiled! -- to tell the truth,

The stripling smiled inanely.

For weeks the goblin weird and wild,

That noble stripling haunted;

For weeks the stripling stood and smiled,

Unmoved and all undaunted.

The sombre ghost exclaimed, "Your plan

Has failed you, goblin, plainly:

Now watch yon hardy Hieland man,

So stalwart and ungainly.

"These are the men who chase the roe,

Whose footsteps never falter,

Who bring with them, where'er they go,

A smack of old Sir Walter.

Of such as he, the men sublime

Who lead their troops victorious,

Whose deeds go down to after-time,

Enshrined in annals glorious!

"Of such as he the bard has said

'Hech thrawfu' raltie rorkie!

Wi' thecht ta' croonie clapperhead

And fash' wi' unco pawkie!'

He'll faint away when I appear,

Upon his native heather;

Or p'r'aps he'll only scream with fear,

Or p'r'aps the two together."

The spectre showed himself, alone,

To do his ghostly battling,

With curdling groan and dismal moan,

And lots of chains a-rattling!

But no -- the chiel's stout Gaelic stuff

Withstood all ghostly harrying;

His fingers closed upon the snuff

Which upwards he was carrying.

For days that ghost declined to stir,

A foggy shapeless giant --

For weeks that splendid officer

Stared back again defiant.

Just as the Englishman returned

The goblin's vulgar staring,

Just so the Scotchman boldly spurned

The ghost's unmannered scaring.

For several years the ghostly twain

These Britons bold have haunted,

But all their efforts are in vain --

Their victims stand undaunted.

This very day the imp, and ghost,

Whose powers the imp derided,

Stand each at his allotted post --

The bet is undecided.

The Phantom Curate.

A Bishop once -- I will not name his see --

Annoyed his clergy in the mode conventional;

From pulpit shackles never set them free,

And found a sin where sin was unintentional.

All pleasures ended in abuse auricular --

The Bishop was so terribly particular.

Though, on the whole, a wise and upright man,

He sought to make of human pleasures clearances;

And form his priests on that much-lauded plan

Which pays undue attention to appearances.

He couldn't do good deeds without a psalm in 'em,

Although, in truth, he bore away the palm in 'em.

Enraged to find a deacon at a dance,

Or catch a curate at some mild frivolity,

He sought by open censure to enhance

Their dread of joining harmless social jollity.

Yet he enjoyed (a fact of notoriety)

The ordinary pleasures of society.

One evening, sitting at a pantomime

(Forbidden treat to those who stood in fear of him),

Roaring at jokes, sans metre, sense, or rhyme,

He turned, and saw immediately in rear of him,

His peace of mind upsetting, and annoying it,

A curate, also heartily enjoying it.

Again, 't was Christmas Eve, and to enhance

His children's pleasure in their harmless rollicking,

He, like a good old fellow, stood to dance;

When something checked the current of his frolicking:

That curate, with a maid he treated lover-ly,

Stood up and figured with him in the "Coverley!"

Once, yielding to an universal choice

(The company's demand was an emphatic one,

For the old Bishop had a glorious voice),

In a quartet he joined -- an operatic one.

Harmless enough, though ne'er a word of grace in it,

When, lo! that curate came and took the bass in it!

One day, when passing through a quiet street,

He stopped awhile and joined a Punch's gathering;

And chuckled more than solemn folk think meet,

To see that gentleman his Judy lathering;

And heard, as Punch was being treated penalty,

That phantom curate laughing all hyaenally.

Now at a picnic, 'mid fair golden curls,

Bright eyes, straw hats, bottines that fit amazingly,

A croquet-bout is planned by all the girls;

And he, consenting, speaks of croquêt praisingly;

But suddenly declines to play at all in it --

The curate fiend has come to take a ball in it!

Next, when at quiet sea-side village, freed

From cares episcopal and ties monarchical,

He grows his beard, and smokes his fragrant weed,

In manner anything but hierarchical --

He sees -- and fixes an unearthly stare on it --

That curate's face, with half a yard of hair on it!

At length he gave a charge, and spake this word:

"Vicars, your curates to enjoyment urge ye may;

To check their harmless pleasuring's absurd;

What laymen do without reproach, my clergy may."

He spake, and lo! at this concluding word of him,

The curate vanished -- no one since has heard of him.

The Sensation Captain

No nobler captain ever trod

Than Captain Parklebury Todd,

So good -- so wise -- so brave, he!

But still, as all his friends would own,

He had one folly -- one alone --

This Captain in the Navy.

I do not think I ever knew

A man so wholly given to

Creating a sensation,

Or p'raps I should in justice say --

To what in an Adelphi play

Is known as "situation."

He passed his time designing traps

To flurry unsuspicious chaps --

The taste was his innately;

He couldn't walk into a room

Without ejaculating "Boom!"

Which startled ladies greatly.

He'd wear a mask and muffling cloak,

Not, you will understand, in joke,

As some assume disguises;

He did it, actuated by

A simple love of mystery

And fondness for surprises.

I need not say he loved a maid --

His eloquence threw into shade

All others who adored her.

The maid, though pleased at first, I know,

Found, after several years or so,

Her startling lover bored her.

So, when his orders came to sail,

She did not faint or scream or wail,

Or with her tears anoint him:

She shook his hand, and said "Good-bye,"

With laughter dancing in her eye --

Which seemed to disappoint him.

But ere he went aboard his boat,

He placed around her little throat

A ribbon, blue and yellow,

On which he hung a double-tooth --

A simple token this, in sooth --

'Twas all he had, poor fellow!

"I often wonder," he would say,

When very, very far away,

"If Angelina wears it?

A plan has entered in my head:

I will pretend that I am dead,

And see how Angy bears it."

The news he made a messmate tell.

His Angelina bore it well,

No sign gave she of crazing;

But, steady as the Inchcape Rock,

His Angelina stood the shock

With fortitude amazing.

She said, "Some one I must elect

Poor Angelina to protect

From all who wish to harm her.

Since worthy Captain Todd is dead,

I rather feel inclined to wed

A comfortable farmer."

A comfortable farmer came

(Bassanio Tyler was his name),

Who had no end of treasure.

He said, "My noble gal, be mine!"

The noble gal did not decline,

But simply said, "With pleasure."

When this was told to Captain Todd,

At first he thought it rather odd,

And felt some perturbation;

But very long he did not grieve,

He thought he could a way perceive

To such a situation!

"I'll not reveal myself," said he,

"Till they are both in the Eccle

-siastical arena;

Then suddenly I will appear,

And paralysing them with fear,

Demand my Angelina!"

At length arrived the wedding day;

Accoutred in the usual way

Appeared the bridal body;

The worthy clergyman began,

When in the gallant Captain ran

And cried, "Behold your Toddy!"

The bridegroom, p'raps, was terrified,

And also possibly the bride --

The bridesmaids were affrighted;

But Angelina, noble soul,

Contrived her feelings to control,

And really seemed delighted.

"My bride!" said gallant Captain Todd,

"She's mine, uninteresting clod!

My own, my darling charmer!"

"Oh dear," said she, "you're just too late --

I'm married to, I beg to state,

This comfortable farmer!"

"Indeed," the farmer said, "she's mine:

You've been and cut it far too fine!"

"I see," said Todd, "I'm beaten."

And so he went to sea once more,

"Sensation" he for aye forswore,

And married on her native shore

A lady whom he'd met before --

A lovely Otaheitan.

Tempora Mutantur

Letters, letters, letters, letters!

Some that please and some that bore,

Some that threaten prison fetters

(Metaphorically, fetters

Such as bind insolvent debtors) --

Invitations by the score.

One from Cogson, Wiles, and Railer,

My attorneys, off the Strand;

One from Copperblock, my tailor --

My unreasonable tailor --

One in Flagg's disgusting hand.

One from Ephraim and Moses,

Wanting coin without a doubt,

I should like to pull their noses --

Their uncompromising noses;

One from Alice with the roses --

Ah, I know what that's about !

Time was when I waited, waited

For the missives that she wrote,

Humble postmen execrated --

Loudly, deeply execrated --

When I heard I wasn't fated

To be gladdened with a note!

Time was when I'd not have bartered

Of her little pen a dip

For a peerage duly gartered --

For a peerage starred and gartered --

With a palace-office chartered,

Or a Secretaryship.

But the time for that is over,

And I wish we'd never met.

I'm afraid I've proved a rover --

I'm afraid a heartless rover --

Quarters in a place like Dover

Tend to make a man forget.

Bills for carriages and horses,

Bills for wine and light cigar,

Matters that concern the Forces --

News that may affect the Forces --

News affecting my resources,

Much more interesting are!

And the tiny little paper,

With the words that seem to run

From her little fingers taper

(They are very small and taper),

By the tailor and the draper

Are in interest outdone.

And unopened it's remaining!

I can read her gentle hope --

Her entreaties, uncomplaining

(She was always uncomplaining),

Her devotion never waning --

Through the little envelope!

At A Pantomime.

An Actor sits in doubtful gloom,

His stock-in-trade unfurled,

In a damp funereal dressing-room

In the Theatre Royal, World.

He comes to town at Christmas-time,

And braves its icy breath,

To play in that favourite pantomime,

Harlequin Life and Death.

A hoary flowing wig his weird

Unearthly cranium caps,

He hangs a long benevolent beard

On a pair of empty chaps.

To smooth his ghastly features down

The actor's art he cribs, --

A long and a flowing padded gown.

Bedecks his rattling ribs.

He cries, "Go on -- begin, begin!

Turn on the light of lime --

I'm dressed for jolly Old Christmas, in

A favourite pantomime!"

The curtain's up -- the stage all black --

Time and the year nigh sped --

Time as an advertising quack --

The Old Year nearly dead.

The wand of Time is waved, and lo!

Revealed Old Christmas stands,

And little children chuckle and crow,

And laugh and clap their hands.

The cruel old scoundrel brightens up

At the death of the Olden Year,

And he waves a gorgeous golden cup,

And bids the world good cheer.

The little ones hail the festive King, --

No thought can make them sad.

Their laughter comes with a sounding ring,

They clap and crow like mad!

They only see in the humbug old

A holiday every year,

And handsome gifts, and joys untold,

And unaccustomed cheer.

The old ones, palsied, blear, and hoar,

Their breasts in anguish beat --

They've seen him seventy times before,

How well they know the cheat!

They've seen that ghastly pantomime,

They've felt its blighting breath,

They know that rollicking Christmas-time

Meant Cold and Want and Death, --

Starvation -- Poor Law Union fare --

And deadly cramps and chills,

And illness -- illness everywhere,

And crime, and Christmas bills.

They know Old Christmas well, I ween,

Those men of ripened age;

They've often, often, often seen

That Actor off the stage!

They see in his gay rotundity

A clumsy stuffed-out dress --

They see in the cup he waves on high

A tinselled emptiness.

Those aged men so lean and wan,

They've seen it all before,

They know they'll see the charlatan

But twice or three times more.

And so they bear with dance and song,

And crimson foil and green,

They wearily sit, and grimly long

For the Transformation Scene.

King Borria Bungalee Boo

King Borria Bungalee Boo

Was a man-eating African swell;

His sigh was a hullaballoo,

His whisper a horrible yell --

A horrible, horrible yell!

Four subjects, and all of them male,

To Borria doubled the knee,

They were once on a far larger scale,

But he'd eaten the balance, you see

("Scale" and "balance" is punning, you see).

There was haughty Pish-Tush-Pooh-Bah,

There was lumbering Doodle-Dum-Dey,

Despairing Alack-a-Dey-Ah,

And good little Tootle-Tum-Teh --

Exemplary Tootle-Tum-Teh.

One day there was grief in the crew,

For they hadn't a morsel of meat,

And Borria Bungalee Boo

Was dying for something to eat --

"Come, provide me with something to eat!

"Alack-a-Day, famished I feel;

Oh, good little Tootle-Tum-Teh,

Where on earth shall I look for a meal?

For I haven't no dinner to-day! --

Not a morsel of dinner to-day!

"Dear Tootle-Tum, what shall we do?

Come, get us a meal, or, in truth,

If you don't, we shall have to eat you,

Oh, adorable friend of our youth!

Thou beloved little friend of our youth!"

And he answered, "Oh, Bungalee Boo,

For a moment I hope you will wait, --

Tippy-Wippity Tol-The-Rol-Loo

Is the Queen of a neighbouring state --

A remarkably neighbouring state.

"Tippy-Wippity Tol-The-Rol-Loo,

She would pickle deliciously cold --

And her four pretty Amazons, too,

Are enticing, and not very old --

Twenty-seven is not very old.

"There is neat little Titty-Fol-Leh,

There is rollicking Tral-The-Ral-Lah,

There is jocular Waggety-Weh,

There is musical Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah --

There's the nightingale Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah!"

So the forces of Bungalee Boo

Marched forth in a terrible row,

And the ladies who fought for Queen Loo

Prepared to encounter the foe --

This dreadful, insatiate foe!

But they sharpened no weapons at all,

And they poisoned no arrows -- not they!

They made ready to conquer or fall

In a totally different way --

An entirely different way.

With a crimson and pearly-white dye

They endeavoured to make themselves fair,

With black they encircled each eye,

And with yellow they painted their hair

(It was wool, but they thought it was hair).

And the forces they met in the field:-

And the men of King Borria said,

"Amazonians, immediately yield!"

And their arrows they drew to the head --

Yes, drew them right up to the head.

But jocular Waggetu-Weh

Ogled Doodle-Dum-Dey (which was wrong),

And neat little Titty-Fol-Leh

Said, "Tootle-Tum, you go along!

You naughty old dear, go along!"

And rollicking Tral-The-Ral-Lah

Tapped Alack-a-Day-Ah with her fan;

And musical Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah

Said, "Pish, go away, you bad man!

Go away, you delightful young man!"

And the Amazons simpered and sighed,

And they ogled, and giggled, and flushed,

And they opened their pretty eyes wide,

And they chuckled, and flirted, and blushed

(At least, if they could, they'd have blushed).

But haughty Pish-Tush-Pooh-Bah

Said, "Alack-a-Dey, what does this mean?"

And despairing Alack-a-Dey-Ah

Said, "They think us uncommonly green!

Ha! ha! most uncommonly green!"

Even blundering Doodle-Dum-Dey

Was insensible quite to their leers,

And said good little Tootle-Tum-Teh,

"It's your blood we desire, pretty dears --

We have come for our dinners, my dears!"

And the Queen of the Amazons fell

To Borria Bungalee Boo, --

In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell,

Tippy-Wippity Tol-The-Rol-Loo --

The pretty Queen Tol-The-Rol-Loo.

And neat little Titty-Fol-Leh

Was eaten by Pish-Pooh-Bah,

And light-hearted Waggety-Weh

By dismal Alack-a-Dey-Ah --

Despairing Alack-a-Dey-Ah.

And rollicking Tral-The-Ral-Lah

Was eaten by Doodle-Dum-Dey,

And musical Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah

By good little Tootle-Dum-Teh --

Exemplary Tootle-Tum-Teh!