Sagittulae, Random Verses Part 6

Is Philosophy thriving, or sound sense reviving?

Is high-table talk metaphysic?

Will dark blue or light have the best of the fight, at Putney and Mortlake and Chiswick?

I often importune the favour of Fortune, that no misadventure may cross us,

And Rhodes once again on the watery plain, may prove an aquatic Colossus.

[N.B. since I wrote I must add a short note, by means of new fangled devices,

Our "Three" was unseated, and we were defeated, and robbed of our laurels by Isis.]--

O oft do I dream of the muddy old stream, the Father of wisdom and knowledge,

Where ages ago I delighted to row for the honour and praise of my College.

I feel every muscle engaged in the tussle, I hear the wild shouting and screaming;

And as we return I can see from the stern Lady Margaret's red banner streaming;

Till I wake with a start, such as nightmares impart, and find myself rapidly gliding,

And striving in vain at my ease to remain on a seat that is constantly sliding.

Inst.i.tutions are changed, men and manners deranged, new systems of rowing and reading,

And writing and thinking, and eating and drinking, each other are quickly succeeding.

Who knows to what end these new notions will tend? No doubt all the world is progressing,

For Kenealy and Odgers, those wide-awake dodgers, the wrongs of mankind are redressing.

No doubt we shall soon take a trip to the moon, if we need recreation or frolic;

Or fly to the stars in the New Pullman Cars, when we find the dull earth melancholic.

We shall know the delights of enjoying our _rights_ without any _duties_ to vex us;

We shall know the unknown; the Philosopher's stone shall be ours, and no problems perplex us;

For all shall be patent, no mysteries latent; man's mind by intuitive notion,

The circle shall square, _x_ and _y_ shall declare, and discover perpetual motion.

Meanwhile till the Earth has accomplished its birth, mid visions of imminent glory,

I prefer to remain, as aforetime, a plain and bloated and bigoted Tory.

Dear Mr. Editor, lately my creditor, now fully paid and my debtor,

I wonder what you will be minded to do, when you get this rhapsodical letter.

If you listen to me (I shall charge you no fee for advice) do not keep or return it;

To its merits be kind, to its faults rather blind; in a word, Mr. Editor, burn it!

(1875).

[1] '_iam fervenimus usque ad umbilicos_.' Martial iv. 91.

SIMPLEX MUNDITIIS

(OR, WHAT SHOULD A MAIDEN BE?)

[NOTE.--The following lines were written by request, to be read at a Meeting of the "Girls' Friendly Society."]

What should a maiden be? Pure as the rill, Ere it has left its first home in the hill; Thinking no evil, suspecting no guile, Cheris.h.i.+ng nought that can harm or defile.

What should a maiden be? Honest and true, Giving to G.o.d and to neighbour their due; Modest and merciful, simple and neat, Clad in the white robe of innocence sweet.

What should a maiden be? She should be loath Lightly to give or receive loving troth; But when her faith is once plighted, till breath Leave her, her love should be stronger than death.

What should a maiden be? Merry, whene'er Merriment comes with a natural air; But let not mirth be an every-day guest, Quietness sits on a maiden the best.

Like a fair lily, sequestered and meek, She should be sought for, not others should seek; But, when the wild winds of trouble arise, She should be calm and courageous and wise,

What should her words be? Her words should be few, Honest and genuine, tender and true; Words that overflow from a pure heart within, Guiltless of folly, untainted by sin.

What should her dress be? Not gaudy and vain, But unaffectedly pretty and plain; She should remember these few simple words-- "Fine feathers flourish on foolish young birds."

Where should a maiden be? Home is the place Which a fair maid is most fitted to grace; There should she turn, like a bird to the nest, There should a maiden be, blessing and blest.

There should she dwell as the handmaid of G.o.d, And if He bid her 'pa.s.s under the rod,'

Let her each murmur repining suppress, Knowing He chasteneth that He may bless.

But if earth's blessings each day He renew, Let her give glory where glory is due; Deem every blessing a gift from above, Given, and designed for a purpose of love,

What will her future be? If she become Matron and mother, may G.o.d bless her home!

G.o.d to the matron all blessings will give, If as G.o.d's maiden the young maiden live.

What will her future be? If she should die, Lightly the earth on her ashes will lie; Softly her body will sleep 'neath the sod, While her pure spirit is safe with her G.o.d.