But I, a lofty and an abstract man, A creature of a higher element Than ever nourished the wood Ordained for ballot-boxes--I Say nothing; until a Keeper comes to me, and, Hooking his fore-finger in his forehead's lock, Says--"What's your opinion, Sir? If Boas will bolt Blankets, Boas must: If Snakes will rush upon their end, why not?" "My friend," said I, "The Blanket and the Boa-- You will conceive me--are a type, yes, just a type, Of this our day. The dumb and monstrous, tasteless appetite Of stupid Boa, to gobble up for food What needs must scour or suffocate, Not nourish! My friend, let the wool of that one blanket Warm but the back of one live sheep, And the Boa would bolt the animal entire, And flourish on his meal, transmuting flesh and bones, And turning them to healthful nutriment! Believe this vital truth; The stomach may take down and digest And sweetly, too, a leg of mutton; That would turn at and reject One little ball of worsted!" On saying this I turned away, Feeling adown the small-o'-the back That gentle warmth that waits upon us, when WE KNOW We have said a good thing; Knowing it better than the vain world Ever can or ever will Reader, I have sung my song! The BOA AND THE B----, like new-found star, Is mine no longer; but the world's!-- Tell me, how have I sung it? With what note? With note akin that immortal bard The snow-white Swan of Avon? Or haply, to that --RARA AVIS, --That has --"Tried WARREN'S?" THE DILLY AND THE D'S. [Footnote: Burlesque of Warren's Poem of "The Lily and the Bee," published at the home of the great Exhibition of 1851.] [AN APOLOGUE OF THE OXFORD INSTALLATION.] BY S--L W--RR--N, Q.S., LL.D., F.R.S PUNCH. PART FIRST.