Poems, supressed poems | Page 3

Melpomene!?Let a fury borrow lyre,?Notes, and dress, of thee.
"Let her meet, in this array,?One of these vile crews,?As though she had lost her way,?Soon as night ensues.
"Then with kisses dark, I trust,?They'll the dear child greet,?Satisfying their wild lust?Just as it is meet!"--
Said and done!--Then one from hell?Soon was dressed aright.?Scarcely had the prey, they tell,?Caught the fellow's sight,
Than, as kites a pigeon follow,?They attacked her straight--?Part, not all, though, I can swallow?Of what folks relate.
If fair boys were 'mongst the band,?How came they to be--?This I cannot understand,--?In such company?
. . . . .?The goddess a miscarriage had, good lack!?And was delivered of an--Almanac!
THE HYPOCHONDRIACAL PLUTO.
A ROMANCE.
BOOK I.
The sullen mayor who reigns in hell,?By mortals Pluto hight,?Who thrashes all his subjects well,?Both morn and eve, as stories tell,?And rules the realms of night,?All pleasure lost in cursing once,?All joy in flogging, for the nonce.
The sedentary life he led?Upon his brazen chair?Made his hindquarters very red,?While pricks, as from a nettle-bed,?He felt both here and there:?A burning sun, too, chanced to shine,?And boiled down all his blood to brine.
'Tis true he drank full many a draught?Of Phlegethon's black flood;?By cupping, leeches, doctor's craft,?And venesection, fore and aft,?They took from him much blood.?Full many a clyster was applied,?And purging, too, was also tried.
His doctor, versed in sciences,?With wig beneath his hat,?Argued and showed with wondrous ease,?From Celsus and Hippocrates,?When he in judgment sat,--?"Right worshipful the mayor of hell,?The liver's wrong, I see full well."
"He's but a booby," Pluto said,?"With all his trash and pills!?A man like me--pray where's his head??A young man yet--his wits have fled!?While youth my veins yet fills!?Unless electuaries he'll bring,?Full in his face my club I'll fling!"
Or right or wrong,--'twas a hard case?To weather such a trial;?(Poor men, who lose a king's good grace!)?He's straight saluted in the face?By every splint and phial.?He very wisely made no fuss;?This hint he learnt of Cerberus.
"Go! fetch the barber of the skies,?Apollo, to me soon!"?An airy courier straightway flies?Upon his beast, and onward hies,?And skims past poles and moon;?As he went off, the clock struck four,?At five his charger reached the door.
Just then Apollo happened--"Heigh-ho!?A sonnet to have made?"?Oh, dear me, no!--upon Miss Io?(Such is the tale I heard from Clio)?The midwife to have played.?The boy, as if stamped out of wax,?Might Zeus as father fairly tax.
He read the letter half asleep,?Then started in dismay:?"The road is long, and hell is deep,?Your rocks I know are rough and steep . . .?Yet like a king he'll pay!"?He dons his cap of mist and furs,?Then through the air the charger spurs.
With locks all frizzled a la mode,?And ruffles smooth and nice,?In gala dress, that brightly glowed?(A gift Aurora had bestowed),?With watch-chains of high price,?With toes turned out, and chapeau bas,?He stood before hell's mighty czar.
BOOK II.
The grumbler, in his usual tone,?Received him with a curse:?"To Pomerania straight begone!?Ugh! how he smells of eau de Cologne!?Why, brimstone isn't worse.?He'd best be off to heaven again,?Or he'll infect hell's wide domain."
The god of pills, in sore surprise,?A spring then backwards took:?"Is this his highness' usual guise??'Tis in the brain, I see, that lies?The mischief--what a look!?See how his eyes in frenzy roll!?The case is bad, upon my soul!
"A journey to Elysium?The infectus would dissolve,?Making the saps less tough become,?As through the Capitolium?And stomach they revolve.?Provisionally be it so:?Let's start then--but incognito!"
"Ay, worthy sir, no doubt well meant!?If, in these regions hazy,?As with you folk, so charged with scent,?You dapper ones who heaven frequent,?'Twere proper to be lazy,?If hell a master needed not,?Why, then I'd follow on the spot!
"Ha! if the cat once turned her back,?Pray where would be the mice??They'd sally forth from every crack,?My very mufti would attack,?Spoil all things in a trice!?Oddsbodikins! 'tis pretty cool!?I'll let him see I'm no such fool!
"A pleasant uproar happened erst,?When they assailed my tower!?No fault of mine 'twas, at the worst,?That from their desks and chains to burst?Philosophers had power.?What, has there e'er escaped a poet??Help, heaven! what misery to know it!
"When days are long, folks talk more stuff!?Upon your seats, no doubt,?With all your cards and music rough,?And scribblings too, 'tis hard enough?The moments to eke out.?Idleness, like a flea will gnaw?On velvet cushions,--as on straw.
"My brother no attempt omits?To drive away ennui;?His lightning round about him flits,?The target with his storms he hits?(Those howls prove that to me),?Till Rhea's trembling shoulders ache,?And force me e'en for hell to quake.
"Were I grandfather Coelus, though,?You wouldn't soon escape!?Into my belly straight you'd go,?And in your swaddling-clothes cry 'oh!'?And through five windows gape!?First o'er my stream you'd have to come,?And then, perhaps, to Elysium!
"Your steed you mounted, I dare say,?In hopes to catch a goose;?If it is worth the trouble, pray?Tell what you've heard from me to-day,?At shaving time, to Zeus.?Just leave him then to swallow