Phantasmagoria And Other Poems Part 2

And here he took a careful aim, And gaily cried "Here goes!"

I tried to dodge it as it came, But somehow caught it, all the same, Exactly on my nose.

And I remember nothing more That I can clearly fix, Till I was sitting on the floor, Repeating "Two and five are four, But _five and two_ are six."

What really pa.s.sed I never learned, Nor guessed: I only know That, when at last my sense returned, The lamp, neglected, dimly burned- The fire was getting low-

Through driving mists I seemed to see A Thing that smirked and smiled: And found that he was giving me A lesson in Biography, As if I were a child.

CANTO IV Hys Nouryture

"OH, when I was a little Ghost, A merry time had we!

Each seated on his favourite post, We chumped and chawed the b.u.t.tered toast They gave us for our tea."

[Picture: We chumped and chawed the b.u.t.tered toast]

"That story is in print!" I cried.

"Don't say it's not, because It's known as well as Bradshaw's Guide!"

(The Ghost uneasily replied He hardly thought it was).

"It's not in Nursery Rhymes? And yet I almost think it is- 'Three little Ghosteses' were set 'On posteses,' you know, and ate Their 'b.u.t.tered toasteses.'

"I have the book; so if you doubt it-"

I turned to search the shelf.

"Don't stir!" he cried. "We'll do without it: I now remember all about it; I wrote the thing myself.

"It came out in a 'Monthly,' or At least my agent said it did: Some literary swell, who saw It, thought it seemed adapted for The Magazine he edited.

"My father was a Brownie, Sir; My mother was a Fairy.

The notion had occurred to her, The children would be happier, If they were taught to vary.

"The notion soon became a craze; And, when it once began, she Brought us all out in different ways- One was a Pixy, two were Fays, Another was a Banshee;

"The Fetch and Kelpie went to school And gave a lot of trouble; Next came a Poltergeist and Ghoul, And then two Trolls (which broke the rule), A Goblin, and a Double-

"(If that's a snuff-box on the shelf,"

He added with a yawn, "I'll take a pinch)-next came an Elf, And then a Phantom (that's myself), And last, a Leprechaun.

[Picture: I stood and watched them in the hall] "One day, some Spectres chanced to call, Dressed in the usual white: I stood and watched them in the hall, And couldn't make them out at all, They seemed so strange a sight.

"I wondered what on earth they were, That looked all head and sack; But Mother told me not to stare, And then she twitched me by the hair, And punched me in the back.

"Since then I've often wished that I Had been a Spectre born.

But what's the use?" (He heaved a sigh.) "_They_ are the ghost-n.o.bility, And look on _us_ with scorn.

"My phantom-life was soon begun: When I was barely six, I went out with an older one- And just at first I thought it fun, And learned a lot of tricks.

"I've haunted dungeons, castles, towers- Wherever I was sent: I've often sat and howled for hours, Drenched to the skin with driving showers, Upon a battlement.

"It's quite old-fas.h.i.+oned now to groan When you begin to speak: This is the newest thing in tone-"

And here (it chilled me to the bone) He gave an _awful_ squeak.

"Perhaps," he added, "to _your_ ear That sounds an easy thing?

Try it yourself, my little dear!

It took _me_ something like a year, With constant practising.

"And when you've learned to squeak, my man, And caught the double sob, You're pretty much where you began: Just try and gibber if you can!

That's something _like_ a job!

"_I've_ tried it, and can only say I'm sure you couldn't do it, e- ven if you practised night and day, Unless you have a turn that way, And natural ingenuity.

"Shakspeare I think it is who treats Of Ghosts, in days of old, Who 'gibbered in the Roman streets,'

Dressed, if you recollect, in sheets- They must have found it cold.

"I've often spent ten pounds on stuff, In dressing as a Double; But, though it answers as a puff, It never has effect enough To make it worth the trouble.

[Picture: In dressing as a Double]

"Long bills soon quenched the little thirst I had for being funny.

The setting-up is always worst: Such heaps of things you want at first, One must be made of money!

"For instance, take a Haunted Tower, With skull, cross-bones, and sheet; Blue lights to burn (say) two an hour, Condensing lens of extra power, And set of chains complete:

"What with the things you have to hire- The fitting on the robe- And testing all the coloured fire- The outfit of itself would tire The patience of a Job!

"And then they're so fastidious, The Haunted-House Committee: I've often known them make a fuss Because a Ghost was French, or Russ, Or even from the City!

"Some dialects are objected to- For one, the _Irish_ brogue is: And then, for all you have to do, One pound a week they offer you, And find yourself in Bogies!"

CANTO V Byckerment

"DON'T they consult the 'Victims,' though?"

I said. "They should, by rights, Give them a chance-because, you know, The tastes of people differ so, Especially in Sprites."

The Phantom shook his head and smiled.

"Consult them? Not a bit!

'Twould be a job to drive one wild, To satisfy one single child- There'd be no end to it!"

"Of course you can't leave _children_ free,"

Said I, "to pick and choose: But, in the case of men like me, I think 'Mine Host' might fairly be Allowed to state his views."

He said "It really wouldn't pay- Folk are so full of fancies.

We visit for a single day, And whether then we go, or stay, Depends on circ.u.mstances.