Should you ask me, By what story, By what action, plot, or fiction, All these matters are connected? I should answer, I should tell you, Go to Bogue and buy the poem, Publish'd neatly, at one shilling, Publish'd sweetly, at five shillings. Should you ask me, Is there music In the structure of the verses, In the names and in the phrases? Pleading that, like weaver Bottom, You prefer your ears well tickled; I should answer, I should tell you, Henry's verse is very charming; And for names--there's Hiawatha, Who's the hero of the poem; Mudjeekeewis, that's the West Wind, Hiawatha's graceless father; There's Nokomis, there's Wenonah-- Ladies both, of various merit; Puggawangum, that's a war-club; Pau-puk-keewis, he's a dandy, "Barr'd with streaks of red and yellow; And the women and the maidens Love the handsome Pau-puk-keewis," Tracing in him PUNCH'S likeness. Then there's lovely Minnehaha-- Pretty name with pretty meaning-- It implies the Laughing-water; And the darling Minnehaha Married noble Hiawatha; And her story's far too touching To be sport for you, yon donkey, With your ears like weaver Bottom's, Ears like booby Bully Bottom. Once upon a time in London, In the days of the Lyceum, Ages ere keen Arnold let it To the dreadful Northern Wizard, Ages ere the buoyant Mathews Tripp'd upon its boards in briskness-- I remember, I remember How a scribe, with pen chivalrous, Tried to save these Indian stories From the fate of chill oblivion. Out came sundry comic Indians Of the tribe of Kut-an-hack-um. With their Chief, the clean Efmatthews, With the growling Downy Beaver, With the valiant Monkey's Uncle, Came the gracious Mari-Kee-lee, Firing off a pocket-pistol, Singing, too, that Mudjee-keewis (Shorten'd in the song to "Wild Wind,") Was a spirit very kindly. Came her Sire, the joyous Kee-lee, By the waning tribe adopted, Named the Buffalo, and wedded To the fairest of the maidens, But repented of his bargain, And his brother Kut-an-hack-ums Very nearly ohopp'd his toes off-- Serve him right, the fickle Kee-lee. If you ask me, What this memory Hath to do with Hiawatha, And the poem which I speak of? I should answer, I should tell you, You're a fool, and most presumptuous; 'Tis not for such humble cattle To inquire what links and unions Join the thoughts, and mystic meanings, Of their betters, mighty poets, Mighty writers--PUNCH the mightiest; I should answer, I should tell you, Shut your mouth, and go to David, David, MR. PUNCH'S neighbor, Buy the Song of Hiawatha, Read, and learn, and then be thankful Unto PUNCH and Henry Wadsworth, PUNCH and noble Henry Wadsworth, Truer poet, better fellow, Than to be annoyed at jesting, From his friend, great PUNCH, who loves him. COMFORT IN AFFLICTION. WILLIAM AYTOUN. "Wherefore starts my bosom's lord? Why this anguish in thine eye? Oh, it seems as thy heart's chord Had broken with that sigh!