Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

descent from the kings who ruled in Britain long before the Conquest. This grand claim. (which was quoted at page 28) has since been rather spoilt by the plain statement that Alfred Tennyson's grandfather was a country attorney, practising in a small, quiet way in Market Rasen, North Lincolnshire, who, having made money in his business, retired, and bought some. land in the neighbourhood.

But for the title just conferred upon him, Tennyson's birth and lineage would have been. matters of perfect indifference to his readers. As for raising Tennyson to the peerage, no writer seems seriously to have defended an act which most people look upon as a mistake. Not one parody in its favour has been written, but many against it.

You must wake and call me early, call me early, Vicky dear,

For to-morrow will be the silliest day we've seen for many a year;

For I am a rhyming prig, Vicky, that shoddy and sham

reveres,

So I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.

There's many a crazy lyre, they say, but none so effete as mine;

It cannot ring out an ode to Brown, that gallant gilly of thine,

For there's none so inane as poor old Alf in his sad, declining years;

And I'm to be one of the Peets, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.

I sleep so sound all night, Vicky, that I shall never wake; So come in the early morn, Vicky, and give me a slap and a shake;

For I must gather my scissors and paste and scraps of the bygone years,

And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.

As I came up the Row, Vicky, whom think you I should see?

Lord Queensberry against a lamp, and singing Tweedle-dedee:

He thought of that vile play, Vicky, I wrote in bygone

years;

But I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.

He thought I was a fool, Vicky, for I looked dazed and white;

He took me for a fool, Vicky-by jingo, he was right. They call me Atheist-hater; but I care not for their jeers, For I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of the Peers.

They say men write, and all for love; but this can never be : They say that great men write and starve; but what is that to me?

For gold I sell my laughter, for gold I sell my tears,

And I'm to be one of the Peers, Vicky, I'm to be one of

[blocks in formation]

Of Tennyson's Patriotic Poems The Charge of the Light Brigade has always been the most popular, and has, consequently, been the most frequently parodied. An excellent parody, taken from Puck on Pegasus, was given on page 31; the following are the most interesting examples which remain to be quoted:-

THE INSTITUTION OF MECHANICAL ENGINEERS.

On Thursday, August 3, 1865, an excursion was made by the Members of the Institution of Mechanical Engineers of England, to the Dublin Corporation Waterworks at the Stillorgan and Roundwood Reservoirs. The members proceeded from Bray through the Glen of the Downs, along a portion of the line of pipes, and at the Roundwood Reservoir they were hardsomely entertained by Sir John Gray, M.P., the Chairman of the Waterworks Committee, and

The following parody appeared in a Dublin newspaper a few days later. Dr. Waller, who is mentioned in it, was then the Chairman of the Connoree Copper and Sulphur Mines, in the Vale of Avoca, which were also visited by the party of Engineers :-

THE TWO HUNDRED.

(After Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade.") 'Half-past nine, August three-Half-past nine-onward!

[ocr errors]

Off to the Vartry Works

Went some two hundred. Off to the Vartry Works, Where the good water lurks, Down on the Wicklow line, Thinking of how they'd dine; Toasting,' with best of wine, Off-with the weather fine

Went the two hundred.

"Forward!' said Sir John Gray,
On to the station, Bray,
There, there was some delay.
Some of the party said

'Waller has blundered.'

But they were wrong, to doubt-
Forty-three cars set out,

On from the station there,
Into the mountain air-

Through Wicklow's mountain air

Drove the two hundred.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

A cat on the right of him!
Cat on the left of him!
Cat at the front of him!

What if he blunder'd?
Slipt his foot! clean he fell!
Came then a horrid yell!
Joe look'd as pale as death,
As down they came pell mell,

All the "Half-hundred!"
Out popt the "party" there!
Wondering what meant that ere
Noise on the landing stair!
All stood and wonder'd!
Dust-clouds of coal and coke!
Made them all nearly choke!
Oh! such a dreadful smoke!
As from the second floor
Rolled the "Half-hundred!"

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

The following clever parody was given to me, about ten years ago, by a young Scotch friend. who has since gone to New Zealand. I have no clue to the year in which it was written (the day of the month, however, was carefully preserved), nor do I know by whom it was written, nor where it made its first appearance in public. Will any kind correspondent furnish me with information on these points?

THE DOCTOR'S HEAVY BRIGADE.

"They would scarcely believe him when he told them that when in Thurso, some time ago, he on one occasion saw six hundred people asleep in a church." Speech of Dr. Guthrie, October 26th.

O'er their devoted heads,

While the law thunder'd, Snugly and heedlessly

Snored the Six Hundred !

Great was the preacher's theme; Screw'd on was all the steam; Neither with shout nor scream Could he disturb the dream

Of the Six Hundred !

Terrors to right of them!
Terrors to left of them!
Terrors in front of them!
Hell itself plundered!
Of its most awful things,
All those unlawful things,
Weak-minded preacher flings

At the dumb-founder'd!
Bold y he spoke, and well,
All on deaf ears it fell,
Vain was his loudest yell
Volley'd and thundered;
For, caring-the truth to tell,
Neither for Heaven nor Hell,

Snor'd the Six Hundred ;

Still, with redoubled zeal,
Still he spoke onward,
And, in a wild appeal,
Striking with hand and heel,
Making the pulpit reel,

Called them the Church's foes,
Threatened with endless woes,
Faintly the answer rose,
(Proofs of their sweet repose),
From the United Nose

Of the Six Hundred !

L'ENVOY.

Sermons of near an hour,
Too much for human power;
Prayers, too, made to match
(Extemporaneous batch,

Wofully blundered).

With a service of music,
Fit to turn every pew sick,
Should it be wondered?
Churches that will not move
Out of the ancient groove

Through which they floundered.
If they will lag behind,
Still must expect to find
Hearers of such a kind

As the Six Hundred !

THE CHARGE OF THE BLACK BRIGADE.*

Half a day, half a day,

Sped the clocks onward, While in Freemason's Hall

Roared the six hundred !— Frantic the Black Brigade,

"Charge for the Church!" they said, In the Freemason's Hall

Roared the six hundred !

Frantic the Black Brigade,

Fearful the row they made,

Some day they'll know too well

How they have blundered.

Theirs not to hear reply,

Theirs throat and lungs to try,

Theirs to bawl "Low" and "High,"

Round the Archbishop's chair

Roared the seven hundred !

Canons to right of him,

Canons to left of him,

Canons in front of him,

Shouted and thundered!

Stormed at with groan and yell,
Really they stood it well,
Till they were out of breath,
Till an Earl tried to quell

Howls by the hundred !

Flustered the laymen's hair;
Flushed all the clergy were;
Scaring the waiters there
Hooting and hissing, while

York's prelate wonderedGuides of us sinner folk

Apropos of the clamorous meeting of the Clergy, in Freemason s Hall, December, 1863, the Archbishop of York in the Chair. 1439 votes

Precept and law they broke, Curate and rector spoke, Dealing the Church a stroke Shaken and sundered-

Then they divided, and

Lost the six hundred !

Clergy to right of chair,
Clergy to left of chair,
Clergy in front of chair,

Shouted and thundered!
Stamping, with groan and yell,
Past any power to quell,
They who had roared so well

Went blessed, and out of breath,

Back to their flocks to tell

All that was done by them-
Nice fourteen hundred !

When will the scandal fade
Of the wild row they made?
All the world wondered

Why such a noise was made

All by the Church BrigadeBlind fourteen hundred !

IV.

Balls to the right of me!
Balls to the left of me!
Balls, too, behind me!

Bounded and thundered!
Then came a sudden thwack,
Right on my poor old back,
Earthward I tumbled smack,
Knocked out was all my breath
With this untimely crack;
Whether my bones were smashed,
I lay and wondered.
Ne'er will the memory fade
Of the large bruise it made,
Not if six hundred
Years on this earth I stayed.
Why cricket's ever played,
Often I've wondered!

From Lays of Modern Oxford, 1874.

Punch, 1868.

AT THE MAGDALEN GROUND.

Ecce canit formas alius jactusque pilarum.

I.

DRIVE to the Magdalen Ground ;

Soon myself there I found,

Balls flew, and ground boys

After them blundered!

Theirs not at ease to lie,
Theirs but to field, and shy
Balls up and mind their eye;
If they were out of breath,

Who could have wondered?

II.

Balls to the right of me!
Balls to the left of me!
Balls, too, in front of me !

Nearly a hundred !

There stood each cricket swell,
Some of them batted well,
Smacking the balls about;
Seldom their wickets fell;
I stood and wondered!

III.

Thirsty, with elbows bare,
Bowlers were bowling there;
Cricket-balls through the air
Whizzed past their heads the while.
Muchly I wondered

Why no one's head was broke,
For at each mighty stroke
Close past the legs or head
Of some unconscious bloke,

Fast the balls thundered;

Which, had they hit him, would
Limbs have near sundered !

The following is a fair specimen of the Puff Poetical, taken from the Daily News of January, 1878:

CHARGE OF THE FAIR BRIGADE.

With the Junior Partner's Apologies to Mr. Tennyson. Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All on the underground line

Rode the six hundred.

Right! cried the guard of the train;
Right! for the Sale, he said,
Into the Terminus then

Glide the six hundred.

Forward the bright brigade!
Was there a heart dismayed,
Not tho' it seemed too true
Someone had fainted.
Their's not to call a fly,
Aldgate, the station nigh;
Their's but to try and buy,
Into the premises

Came the six hundred.
Counters to right of them,
Counters to left of them,
Counters in front of them,

Dighted and lumbered;

Greeted with chair and grace
Boldly they entered apace,
Into the matter fain,

Into the "Sale" amain

Went the six hundred.

Flash'd all their note-books fair,

Flash'd all the pencils there,

Noting with all due care,
Purchases rich and rare,

All the world wondered;

Plunged in the "Hibernum Sale," Pleased with each neat detail; Silken and Linen

Metre and yard-stick fail

Almost to measure.

Then they hark back, but not -

Not unencumbered.

Voices at right of him!
Voices at left of him!
Voices behind him!

Question'd and thunder'd !

Shrunk I into my shell;
Ah! how my grandeur fell!
Knowing that (thought a "swell")

I was thus found to buy

Coals by the "Hundred!"

How does one's glory fade,

When there an end is made

At what the world wonder'd? Ne'er from my mind will fade That awkward mess we made,

Of the "Half-hundred!"

JAMES BRUTON.

(From the Stratford-on-Avon Herald.)

The following clever parody was given to me, about ten years ago, by a young Scotch friend. who has since gone to New Zealand. I have no clue to the year in which it was written (the day of the month, however, was carefully preserved), nor do I know by whom it was written, nor where it made its first appearance in public. Will any kind correspondent furnish me with information on these points?

THE DOCTOR'S HEAVY BRIGADE.

"They would scarcely believe him when he told them that when in Thurso, some time ago, he on one occasion saw six hundred people asleep in a church." Speech of Dr. Guthrie, October 26th.

O'er their devoted heads,

While the law thunder'd, Snugly and heedlessly

Snored the Six Hundred ! Great was the preacher's theme; Screw'd on was all the steam; Neither with shout nor scream Could he disturb the dream

Of the Six Hundred !

Terrors to right of them!
Terrors to left of them!

Terrors in front of them!
Hell itself plundered!
Of its most awful things,
All those unlawful things,
Weak-minded preacher flings

At the dumb-founder'd !
Bold'y he spoke, and well,
All on deaf ears it fell,
Vain was his loudest yell
Volley'd and thundered;
For, caring-the truth to tell,
Neither for Heaven nor Hell,

Snor'd the Six Hundred ;

Still, with redoubled zeal,
Still he spoke onward,
And, in a wild appeal,

Striking with hand and heel,
Making the pulpit reel,

Called them the Church's foes,
Threatened with endless woes,
Faintly the answer rose,
(Proofs of their sweet repose),
From the United Nose

Of the Six Hundred !

L'ENVOY.

Sermons of near an hour,
Too much for human power;
Prayers, too, made to match
(Extemporaneous batch,

Wofully blundered).
With a service of music,
Fit to turn every pew sick,

Should it be wondered? Churches that will not move Out of the ancient groove Through which they floundered. If they will lag behind, Still must expect to find Hearers of such a kind

As the Six Hundred !

THE CHARGE OF THE BLACK BRIGADE.*

Half a day, half a day,
Sped the clocks onward,
While in Freemason's Hall

Roared the six hundred !-
Frantic the Black Brigade,
"Charge for the Church!" they said,
In the Freemason's Hall

Roared the six hundred !

Frantic the Black Brigade,

Fearful the row they made,

Some day they'll know too well

How they have blundered.

Theirs not to hear reply,

Theirs throat and lungs to try,

Theirs to bawl "Low" and "High,"

Round the Archbishop's chair

Roared the seven hundred !

Canons to right of him,

Canons to left of him,

Canons in front of him,

Shouted and thundered!

Stormed at with groan and yell,

Really they stood it well,
Till they were out of breath,
Till an Earl tried to quell

Howls by the hundred !

Flustered the laymen's hair;
Flushed all the clergy were;
Scaring the waiters there

Hooting and hissing, while

York's prelate wonderedGuides of us sinner folk

Apropos of the clamorous meeting of the Clergy, in Freemason s Hall, December, 1868, the Archbishop of York in the Chair.

1439 votes

« ElőzőTovább »