The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe
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The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe
American poetry; American wit and humor; English poetry; English wit and humor; Humorous poetry, American; Humorous poetry, English
"Let me ever gaze upon thee,
Look into thine eyes so deep;
With a daring hand I won thee,
With a faithful heart I'll keep.
"Oh, my Helen, thou bright wonder,
Who was ever like to thee?
Jove would lay aside his thunder,
So he might be blest like me.
"How mine eyes so fondly linger
On thy soft and pearly skin;
Scan each round and rosy finger,
Drinking draughts of beauty in!
"Tell me, whence thy beauty, fairest!
Whence thy cheek's enchanting bloom!
Whence the rosy hue thou wearest,
Breathing round thee rich perfume?"
Thus he spoke, with heart that panted,
Clasped her fondly to his side,
Gazed on her with look enchanted,
While his Helen thus replied:
"Be no discord, love, between us,
If I not the secret tell!
'Twas a gift I had of Venus,--
Venus who hath loved me well.
"And she told me as she gave it,
'Let not e'er the charm be known,
O'er thy person freely lave it,
Only when thou art alone.'
"'Tis inclosed in yonder casket--
Here behold its golden key;
But its name--love, do not ask it,
Tell't I may not, e'en to thee!"
Long with vow and kiss he plied her,
Still the secret did she keep,
Till at length he sank beside her,
Seemed as he had dropped to sleep.
Soon was Helen laid in slumber,
When her Paris, rising slow,
Did his fair neck disencumber
From her rounded arms of snow;
Then her heedless fingers oping,
Takes the key and steals away,
To the ebon table groping,
Where the wondrous casket lay;
Eagerly the lid uncloses,
Sees within it, laid aslope,
Pear's Liquid Bloom of Roses,
Cakes of his Transparent Soap!
II.
TARQUIN AND THE AUGUR.
Gingerly is good King Tarquin shaving,
Gently glides the razor o'er his chin,
Near him stands a grim Haruspex raving,
And with nasal whine he pitches in,
Church Extension hints,
Till the monarch squints,
Snicks his chin, and swears--a deadly sin!
"Jove confound thee, thou bare-legged impostor!
From my dressing table get thee gone!
Dost thou think my flesh is double Glo'ster?
There again! That cut was to the bone!
Get ye from my sight;
I'll believe you're right
When my razor cuts the sharping hone!"
Thus spoke Tarquin with a deal of dryness;
But the Augur, eager for his fees,
Answered--"Try it, your Imperial Highness,
Press a little harder, if you please.
There! the deed is done!"
Through the solid stone
Went the steel as glibly as through cheese.
So the Augur touched the tin of Tarquin,
Who suspected some celestial aid:
But he wronged the blameless Gods; for hearken!
Ere the monarch's bet was rashly laid,
With his searching eye
Did the priest espy
RODGER'S name engraved upon the blade.
REFLECTIONS OF A PROUD PEDESTRIAN.
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
I saw the curl of his waving lash,
And the glance of his knowing eye,
And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash,
As his steed went thundering by.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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