And a shower with their dresses must have played the very deuce, And it must have been unpleasing when they caught a fit of sneezing, For, it seems, of pocket-handkerchiefs they didn't know the use. They wore little underclothing--scarcely anything--or no-thing-- And their dress of Coan silk was quite transparent in design-- Well, in fact, in summer weather, something like the "altogether." And it's _there_, I rather fancy, I shall have to draw the line! (And again I wish to mention) That this erudition sham Is but classical pretension, The result of steady "cram." Yet my classic lore aggressive, If you'll pardon the possessive, Is exceedingly impressive When you're passing an exam. [Illustration] THE STORY OF PRINCE AGIB Strike the concertina's melancholy string! Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything! Let the piano's martial blast Rouse the echoes of the past, For of AGIB, Prince of Tartary, I sing! Of AGIB, who, amid Tartaric scenes, Wrote a lot of ballet-music in his teens: His gentle spirit rolls In the melody of souls-- Which is pretty, but I don't know what it means. Of AGIB, who could readily, at sight, Strum a march upon the loud Theodolite. He would diligently play On the Zoetrope all day, And blow the gay Pantechnicon all night. One winter--I am shaky in my dates-- Came two starving Tartar minstrels to his gates; Oh, Allah be obeyed, How infernally they played! I remember that they called themselves the "Oüaits." Oh! that day of sorrow, misery, and rage, I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age, Photographically lined On the tablet of my mind, When a yesterday has faded from its page! Alas! PRINCE AGIB went and asked them in; Gave them beer, and eggs, and sweets, and scent, and tin And when (as snobs would say) They had "put it all away," He requested them to tune up and begin. Though its icy horror chill you to the core, I will tell you what I never told before-- The consequences true Of that awful interview, _For I listened at the keyhole in the door!_ They played him a sonata--let me see! "_Medulla oblongata_"--key of G. Then they began to sing That extremely lovely thing, "_Scherzando! ma non troppo, ppp._" He gave them money, more than they could count, Scent from a most ingenious little fount, More beer in little kegs, Many dozen hard-boiled eggs, And goodies to a fabulous amount. [Illustration]