Waiting in a big tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop!
Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!"
American papers put in circulation many little verses, such as this--
"The melancholy days have come,
The saddest of the year;
Too warm, alas! for whiskey punch,
Too cold for lager beer."
And this, in reference to the Centennial Exhibition:
"Breathes there a Yank, so mean, so small,
Who never says, 'Wall, now, by Gaul,
I reckon since old Adam's fall
There's never growed on this 'ere ball
A nation so all-fired tall
As we centennial Yankees."
A number of periodicals nowadays make parody and other out-of-the-way
styles of literary composition a feature in their issues by way of
competition for prizes, and one of these is given here. The author signs
himself "Hermon," and the poem was selected by the editor of "Truth"
(November 25, 1880) for a prize in a competition of parodies upon
"Excelsior." It is called "That Thirty-four!" having reference, it is
perhaps hardly necessary to state, to the American puzzle of that name
which has proved so perplexing an affair to some people.
THAT THIRTY-FOUR.
"Chill August's storms were piping loud,
When through a gaping London crowd,
There passed a youth, who still was heard
To mutter the perplexing word,
'That Thirty-four!'
His eyes were wild; his brow above
Was crumpled like an old kid-glove;
And like some hoarse crow's grating note
That word still quivered in his throat,
'That Thirty-four!'
'Oh, give it up!' his comrades said;
'It only muddles your poor head;
It is not worth your finding out.'
He answered with a wailing shout,
'That Thirty-four!'
'Art not content,' the maiden said,
'To solve the "Fifteen"-one instead?'
He paused--his tearful eyes he dried--
Gulped down a sob, then sadly sighed,
'That Thirty-four!'
At midnight, on their high resort,
The cats were startled at their sport
To hear, beneath one roof, a tone
Gasp out, betwixt a snore and groan,
'That Thirty-four!'"
_CHAIN VERSE._
This ingenious style of versification, where the last word or phrase in
each line is taken for the beginning of the next, is sometimes also called
"Concatenation" verse. The invention of this mode of composition is
claimed by M. Lasphrise, a French poet, who wrote the following:
"Falloit-il que le ciel me rendit amoreux,
Amoreux, jouissant d'une beauté craintive,
Craintive à recevoir la douceur excessive,
Excessive au plaisir que rend l'amant heureux?
Heureux si nous avions quelques paisibles lieux,
Lieux où plus surement l'ami fidèle arrive,
Arrive sans soupçon de quelque ami attentive,
Attentive à vouloir nous surprendre tous deux."
The poem which follows is from a manuscript furnished by an American
gentleman, who states that he has never seen it in print, and knows not
the author's name. The "rhythm somewhat resembles the ticking of a clock,"
from whence the poem derives its name of
THE MUSICAL CLOCK.
"Wing the course of time with music,
Music of the grand old days--
Days when hearts were brave and noble,
Noble in their simple ways.
Ways, however rough, yet earnest,
Earnest to promote the truth--
Truth that teaches us a lesson,
Lesson worthy age and youth.
Youth and age alike may listen--
Listen, meditate, improve--
Improve in happiness and glory,
Glory that shall Heavenward move.
Move, as music moves, in pathos,
Pathos sweet, and power sublime,
Sublime to raise the spirit drooping,
Drooping with the toils of time.
Time reveals, amid its grandeur,
Grandeur purer, prouder still--
Still revealing dreams of beauty,
Beauty that inspires the will--
Will a constant sighing sorrow,
Sorrow full of tears restore,
Restore but for a moment, pleasure?
Pleasure dead can live no more.
No more, then, languish for the buried,
Buried calmly let it be.
Be the star of promise Heaven,
Heaven has sweeter joys for thee.
For thee perchance, though dark the seeming,
Seeming dark, may yet prove bright,
Bright through mortal cares, shall softly,
Softly dissipate the night.
Night shall not endure for ever,--
Ever! no, the laws of Earth,
Earth inconstant, shall forbid it--
Bid it change from gloom to mirth.
Mirth and grief, are light and shadow--
Shadows light to us are dear.
Dear the scene becomes by contrast--
Contrast there, in beauty here.
Here, through sun and tempest many,
Many shall thy being pass--
Pass without a sigh of sorrow,
Sorrow wins not by alas!
Alas! we pardon in a maiden,
Maiden when her heart is young,
Young and timid, but in manhood,
Manhood should be sterner strung,
Strung as though his nerves were iron,
Iron tempered well to bend--
Bend, mayhap, but yielding never,
Never, when despair would rend--
Rend the pillars from the temple,
Temple in the human breast,
Breast that lonely grief has chosen,
Chosen for her place of rest--
Rest unto thy spirit, only,
Only torment will she bring.
Bring, oh man! the lyre of gladness,
Gladness frights the harpy's wing!"
The following two pieces are similar in style to some of our
seventeenth-century poets:
AD MORTEM.
"The longer life, the more offence;
The more offence, the greater pain;
The greater pain, the less defence;
The less defence, the greater gain--
Wherefore, come death, and let me die!
The shorter life, less care I find,
Less care I take, the sooner over;
The sooner o'er, the merrier mind;
The merrier mind, the better lover--
Wherefore, come death, and let me die!
Come, gentle death, the ebb of care;
The ebb of care, the flood of life;
The flood of life, I'm sooner there;
I'm sooner there--the end of strife--
The end of strife, that thing wish I--
Wherefore, come death, and let me die!"
TRUTH.
"Nerve thy soul with doctrines noble,
Noble in the walks of time,
Time that leads to an eternal
An eternal life sublime;
Life sublime in moral beauty,
Beauty that shall ever be;
Ever be to lure thee onward,
Onward to the fountain free--
Free to every earnest seeker,
Seeker for the Fount of Youth--
Youth exultant in its beauty,
Beauty of the living truth."
The following hymn appears in the Irish Church Hymnal, and is by Mr. J.
Byrom:
"My spirit longs for Thee
Within my troubled breast,
Though I unworthy be
Of so Divine a Guest.
Of so Divine a Guest
Unworthy though I be,
Yet has my heart no rest,
Unless it come from Thee.
Unless it come from Thee,
In vain I look around;
In all that I can see
No rest is to be found.
No rest is to be found.
But in Thy blessèd love;
Oh, let my wish be crowned
And send it from above."
Dr., as he was commonly called, Byrom, seems to have been an amiable and
excellent man, and his friends after his death in September 1763 collected
and published all the verses of his they could lay hands on, in 2 vols.
12mo, at Manchester in 1773. A more complete edition was issued in 1814.
Many of Byrom's poems evince talent, but a great part are only calculated
for private perusal: his "Diary" and "Remains" were published by the
Chetham Society (1854-57). Byrom was the inventor of a successful system
of shorthand. He was a decided Jacobite, and his mode of defending his
sentiments on this point are still remembered and quoted:
"God bless the King! I mean the Faith's defender;
God bless--no harm in blessing--the Pretender!
But who Pretender is, or who the King,
God bless us all--that's quite another thing!"
_MACARONIC VERSE._
Macaronic verse is properly a system of Latin inflections joined to words
of a modern vernacular, such as English, French, German, &c.; some
writers, however, choose to disregard the strictness of this definition,
and consider everything macaronic which is written with the aid of more
than one language or dialect. Dr. Geddes (born 1737; died 1802),
considered one of the greatest of English macaronic writers, says: "It is
the characteristic of a Macaronic poem to be written in Latin hexameters;
but so as to admit occasionally vernacular words, either in their native
form, or with a Latin inflection--other licenses, too, are allowed in the
measure of the lines, contrary to the strict rules of prosody." Broad
enough reservations these, of which Dr. Geddes in his own works was not
slow in availing himself, and as will be seen in the specimens given, his
example has been well followed, for the strict rule that an English
macaronic should consist of the vernacular made classical with Latin
terminations has been as much honoured in the breach as in the observance.
Another characteristic in macaronics is that these poems recognise no law
in orthography, etymology, syntax, or prosody. The examples which here
follow are confined exclusively to those which have their basis, so to
speak, in the English language, and, with the exception of a few of the
earlier ones, the majority of the selections in this volume have their
origin in our own times.
"The earliest collection of English Christmas carols supposed to have been
published," says Hone's "Every Day Book," "is only known from the last
leaf of a volume printed by Wynkyn Worde in 1521. There are two carols
upon it: 'A Carol of Huntynge' is reprinted in the last edition of Juliana
Berners' 'Boke of St. Alban's;' the other, 'A carol of bringing in the
Bore's Head,' is in Dibdin's edition of 'Ames,' with a copy of the carol
as it is now sung in Queen's College, Oxford, every Christmas Day." Dr.
Bliss of Oxford printed a few copies of this for private circulation,
together with Anthony Wood's version of it. The version subjoined is from
a collection imprinted at London, "in the Poultry, by Richard Kele,
dwelling at the long shop vnder Saynt Myldrede's Chyrche," about 1546:
A CAROL BRINGING IN THE BORE'S HEAD.
"Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino.
The bore's heed in hande bring I,
With garlands gay and rosemary,
I pray you all synge merelye
Qui estis in convivio.
The bore's heed I understande
Is the thefte service in this lande,
Take wherever it be fande,
Servite cum cantico.
Be gladde lordes both more and lasse,
For this hath ordeyned our stewarde,
To cheere you all this Christmasse,
The bore's heed with mustarde.
Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino."
Another version of the last verse is:
"Our steward hath provided this
In honour of the King of Bliss:
Which on this clay to be served is,
In Regimensi Atrio.
Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino."
Skelton, who was the poet-laureate about the end of the fifteenth century,
has in his "Boke of Colin Clout," and also in that of "Philip Sparrow,"
much macaronic verse, as in "Colin Clout," when he is speaking of the
priests of those days, he says:
"Of suche vagabundus
Speaking totus mundus,
How some syng let abundus,
At euerye ale stake
With welcome hake and make,
By the bread that God brake,
I am sory for your sake.
I speake not of the god wife
But of their apostles lyfe,
Cum ipsis vel illis
Qui manent in villis
Est uxor vel ancilla,
Welcome Jacke and Gilla,
My prety Petronylla,
An you wil be stilla
You shall haue your willa,
Of such pater noster pekes
All the world speakes," &c.
In Harsnett's "Detection" are some curious lines, being a curse for "the
miller's eeles that were stolne":
"All you that stolne the miller's eeles,
Laudate dominum de coelis,
And all they that have consented thereto,
Benedicamus domino."
In "Literary Frivolities" there was a notice of and quotation from
Ruggles' _jeu d'esprit_ of "Ignoramus," and here follows a short scene
from this play, containing a humorous burlesque of the old Norman
Law-Latin, in which the elder brethren of the legal profession used to
plead, and in which the old Reporters come down to the Bar of to-day--if,
indeed, that venerable absurdity can be caricatured. It would be rather
difficult to burlesque a system that provided for a writ _de pipâ vini
carriandâ_--that is, "for negligently carrying a pipe of wine!"
IGNORAMUS.
ACTUS I.--SCENA III.
ARGUMENTUM.
IGNORAMUS, clericis suis vocatis DULMAN & PECUS, amorem suum erga
ROSABELLAM narrat, irredetque MUSÆUM quasi hominem academicum.
_Intrant_ IGNORAMUS, DULMAN, PECUS, MUSÆUS.
_Igno._ Phi, phi: tanta pressa, tantum croudum, ut fui pene trusus ad
mortem. Habebo actionem de intrusione contra omnes et singulos. Aha
Mounsieurs, voulez voz intruder par joint tenant? il est playne case,
il est point droite de le bien seance. O valde caleor: O chaud, chaud,
chaud: precor Deum non meltavi meum pingue. Phi, phi. In nomine Dei,
ubi sunt clerici mei jam? Dulman, Dulman.
_Dul._ Hìc, Magister Ignoramus, vous avez Dulman.
_Igno._ Meltor, Dulman, meltor. Rubba me cum towallio, rubba. Ubi est
Pecus?
_Pec._ Hìc, Sir.
_Igno._ Fac ventum, Pecus. Ita, sic, sic. Ubi est Fledwit?
_Dul._ Non est inventus.
_Igno._ Ponite nunc chlamydes vestras super me, ne capiam frigus. Sic,
sic. Ainsi, bien faict. Inter omnes poenas meas, valde lætor, et
gaudeo nunc, quod feci bonum aggreamentum, inter Anglos nostros:
aggreamentum, quasi aggregatio mentium. Super inde cras hoysabimus
vela, et retornabimus iterum erga Londinum: tempus est, nam huc
venimus Octabis Hillarii, et nunc fere est Quindena Pasche.
_Dul._ Juro, magister, titillasti punctum legis hodie.
_Igno._ Ha, ha, he! Puto titillabam. Si le nom del granteur, ou granté
soit rased, ou interlined en faict pol, le faict est grandement
suspicious.
_Dul._ Et nient obstant, si faict pol, &c., &c. Oh illud etiam in
Covin.
_Igno._ Ha, ha, he!
_Pec._ At id, de un faict pendu en le smoak, nunquam audivi titillatum
melius.
_Igno._ Ha, ha, he! Quid tu dicis, Musæe?
_Mus._ Equidem ego parum intellexi.
_Igno._ Tu es gallicrista, vocatus a coxcomb; nunquam faciam te
Legistam.
_Dul._ Nunquam, nunquam; nam ille fuit Universitans.
_Igno._ Sunt magni idiotæ, et clerici nihilorum, isti Universitantes:
miror quomodo spendisti tuum tempus inter eos.
_Mus._ Ut plurimum versatus sum in Logicâ.
_Igno._ Logica? Quæ villa, quod burgum est Logica?
_Mus._ Est una artium liberalium.
_Igno._ Liberalium? Sic putabam. In nomine Dei, stude artes parcas et
lucrosas: non est mundus pro artibus liberalibus jam.
_Mus._ Deditus etiam fui amori Philosophiæ.
_Igno._ Amori? Quid! Es pro bagaschiis et strumpetis? Si custodis
malam regulam, non es pro me, sursum reddam te in manus parentum
iterum.
_Mus._ Dii faxint.
_Igno._ Quota est clocka nunc?
_Dul._ Est inter octo et nina.
_Igno._ Inter octo et nina? Ite igitur ad mansorium nostrum cum baggis
et rotulis.--Quid id est? videam hoc instrumentum; mane petit, dum
calceo spectacula super nasum. O ho, ho, scio jam. Hæc indentura,
facta, &c., inter Rogerum Rattledoke de Caxton in comitatu Brecknocke,
&c. O ho, Richard Fen, John Den. O ho, Proud Buzzard, plaintiff,
adversus Peakegoose, defendant. O ho, vide hic est defalta literæ;
emenda, emenda; nam in nostra lege una comma evertit totum Placitum.
Ite jam, copiato tu hoc, tu hoc ingrossa, tu Universitans trussato
sumptoriam pro jorneâ.
[_Exeunt Clerici._
IGNORAMUS _solus_.
Hi, ho! Rosabella, hi ho! Ego nunc eo ad Veneris curiam letam, tentam
hic apud Torcol: Vicecomes ejus Cupido nunquam cessavit, donec invenit
me in balivâ suâ: Primum cum amabam Rosabellam nisi parvum, misit
parvum Cape, tum magnum Cape, et post, alias Capias et pluries Capias,
& Capias infinitas; & sic misit tot Capias, ut tandem capavit me ut
legatum ex omni sensu et ratione meâ. Ita sum sicut musca sine caput;
buzzo & turno circumcirca, et nescio quid facio. Cum scribo
instrumentum, si femina nominatur, scribo Rosabellam; pro Corpus cum
causâ, corpus cum caudâ; pro Noverint universi, Amaverint universi;
pro habere ad rectum, habere ad lectum; et sic vasto totum
instrumentum. Hei, ho! ho, hei, ho!
The following song by O'Keefe, is a mixture of English, Latin, and
nonsense:
"Amo, amas,
I love a lass,
As cedar tall and slender;
Sweet cowslip's grace
Is her nominative case,
And she's of the feminine gender.
_Chorus._
Rorum, corum, sunt di-vorum,
Harum, scarum, divo;
Tag-rag, merry-derry, periwig and hatband,
Hic, hoc, horum genitivo.
Can I decline a nymph so divine?
Her voice like a flute is dulcis;
Her oculus bright, her manus white
And soft, when I tacto her pulse is.
_Chorus._
O how bella, my puella
I'll kiss in secula seculorum;
If I've luck, sir, she's my uxor,
O dies benedictorum."
_Chorus._
Of the many specimens written by the witty and versatile Dr. Maginn we
select this one
THE SECOND EPODE OF HORACE.
"Blest man, who far from busy hum,
Ut prisca gens mortalium,
Whistles his team afield with glee
Solutus omni fenore;
He lives in peace, from battles free,
Neq' horret irratúm mare;
And shuns the forum, and the gay
Potentiorum limina,
Therefore to vines of purple gloss
Atlas maritat populos.
Or pruning off the boughs unfit
Feliciores inserit;
Or, in a distant vale at ease
Prospectat errantes greges;
Or honey into jars conveys
Aut tondet infirmas oves.
When his head decked with apples sweet
Auctumnus agris extulit,
At plucking pears he's quite _au fait_
Certant, et uvam purpuræ.
Some for Priapus, for thee some
Sylvare, tutor finium!
Beneath an oak 'tis sweet to be
Mod' in tenaci gramine:
The streamlet winds in flowing maze
Queruntur in silvis aves;
The fount in dulcet murmur plays
Somnos quod invitet leves.
But when winter comes, (and that
Imbres nivesque comparat,)
With dogs he forces oft to pass
Apros in obstantes plagas;
Or spreads his nets so thick and close
Turdis edacibus dolos;
Or hares, or cranes, from far away
Jucunda captat præmia:
The wooer, love's unhappy stir,
Hæc inter obliviscitur,
His wife can manage without loss
Domum et parvos liberos;
(Suppose her Sabine, or the dry
Pernicis uxor Appali,)
Who piles the sacred hearthstone high
Lassi sub adventúm viri,
And from his ewes, penned lest they stray,
Distenta siccet ubera;
And this year's wine disposed to get
Dapes inemtas apparet.
Oysters to me no joys supply,
Magisve rhombus, aut scari,
(If when the east winds boisterous be
Hiems ad hoc vertat mare;)
Your Turkey pout is not to us,
Non attagen Ionicus,
So sweet as what we pick at home
Oliva ramis arborum!
Or sorrel, which the meads supply,
Malvæ salubres corpori--
Or lamb, slain at a festal show
Vel hædus ereptus lupo.
Feasting, 'tis sweet the creature's dumb,
Videre prop'rantes domum,
Or oxen with the ploughshare go,
Collo trahentes languido;
And all the slaves stretched out at ease,
Circum renidentes Lares!
Alphius the usurer, babbled thus,
Jam jam futurus rusticus,
Called in his cast on th' Ides--but he
Quærit Kalendis ponere!"
There is a little bit by Barham ("Ingoldsby Legends") which is worthy of
insertion:
"What Horace says is
Eheu fugaces
Anni labuntur, Postume! Postume!
Years glide away and are lost to me--lost to me!
Now when the folks in the dance sport their merry toes,
Taglionis and Ellslers, Duvernays and Ceritos,
Sighing, I murmured, 'O mihi pretæritos!'"
The following bright _carmen Macaronicum_ appeared in an American
periodical in 1873:
REX MIDAS.
"Vivit a rex in Persia land,
A potens rex was he;
Suum imperium did extend
O'er terra and o'er sea.
Rex Midas habuit multum gold,
Tamen he wanted plus;
'Non satis est,' his constant cry--
Ergo introit fuss.
Silenus was inebrius,--
Id est, was slightly tight,
As he went vagus through the urbs,
It was a tristis sight.
Rex Midas equitavit past
On suum dromedary,
Vidit Silenus on his spree,
Sic lætus et sic merry.
His costume was a wreath of leaves,
And those were multum battered;
Urchins had stoned him, and the ground
Cum lachrymis was scattered.
Rex Midas picked hunc senem up,
And put him on his pony,
Et bore him ad castellum grand
Quod cost him multum money.
Dedit Silenum mollem care:
Cum Bacchus found his ubi
Promisit Midas quod he asked.
Rex Midas fuit--booby.
For aurum was his gaudium,
Rogavit he the favour
Ut quid he touched might turn to gold;
Ab this he'd nunquam never.
Carpsit arose to try the charm,
Et in eodem minute
It mutat into flavum gold,
Ridet as spectat in it.
His filia rushed to meet her sire,
He osculavit kindly;
She lente stiffened into gold--
Vidit he'd acted blindly.
Spectavit on her golden form,
And in his brachia caught her:
'Heu me! sed tamen breakfast waits,
My daughter, oh! my daughter!'
Venit ad suum dining-hall,
Et coffeam gustavit,
Liquatum gold his fauces burned,--
Loud he vociferavit:
'Triste erat amittere
My solam filiam true,
Pejus to lose my pabulam.
Eheu! Eheu!! Eheu!!!'
Big lachrymæ bedewed his cheeks--
'O potens Bacchus lazy,
Prende ab me the power you gave,
Futurum, ut I'll praise thee.'
Benignus Bacchus audiens groans,
Misertus est our hero;
Dixit ut the Pactolian waves
Ab hoc would cleanse him--vero.
Infelix rex was felix then,
Et cum hilarious grin,
Ruit unto the river's bank,
Et fortis plunged in.
The nefas power was washed away;
Sed even at this hour
Pactolus' sands are tinged with gold,
Testes of Bacchus' power.
A tristis sed a sapiens vir
Rex Midas fuit then;
Et gratus to good Bacchus said,
'Non feram sic again.'
Hæc fable docet, plain to see,
Quamquam the notion's old,
Hoc verum est, ut girls and grub
Much melior sunt than gold."
The following well-known lines are from the "Comic Latin Grammar," a
remarkably clever and curious work, full of quaint illustrations:
"Patres conscripti--took a boat and went to Philippi.
Trumpeter unus erat qui coatum scarlet habebat,
Stormum surgebat, et boatum overset--ebat,
Omnes drownerunt, quia swimaway non potuerunt,
Excipe John Periwig tied up to the tail of a dead pig."
A TREATISE ON WINE.
"The best tree, if ye take intent,
Inter ligna fructifera,
Is the vine tree by good argument,
Dulcia ferens pondera.
Saint Luke saith in his Gospel,
Arbor fructu noscitur,
The vine beareth wine as I you tell,
Hinc aliis præponitur.
The first that planted the vineyard
Manet in coelio gaudio,
His name was Noe, as I am learned
Genesis testimonio.
God gave unto him knowledge and wit,
A quo procedunt omnia,
First of the grape wine for to get
Propter magna mysteria.
The first miracle that Jesus did,
Erat in vino rubeo,
In Cana of Galilee it betide
Testante Evangelio.
He changed water into wine
Aquæ rubescunt hydriæ,
And bade give it to Archetcline,
Ut gustet tunc primarie.
Like as the rose exceedeth all flowers,
Inter cuncta florigera,
So doth wine all other liquors,
Dans multa salutifera.
David, the prophet, saith that wine
Lætificat cor hominis,
It maketh men merry if it be fine,
Est ergo digni nominis.
It nourisheth age if it be good,
Facit ut esset juvenis,
It gendereth in us gentle blood,
Nam venas purgat sanguinis.
By all these causes, ye should think
Quæ sunt rationabiles,
That good wine should be the best of drink,
Inter potus potabiles.
Wine drinkers all, with great honour,
Semper laudate Dominum,
The which sendeth the good liquor
Propter salutem hominum.
Plenty to all that love good wine
Donet Deus larguis,
And bring them some when they go hence,
Ubi non sitient amplius."
--_Richard Hilles_ (1535).
The two which follow are identical in theme, and show that the wags and
wits of about thirty years ago were busy poking their fun at what was then
their latest sensation, much as they do now. They both treat of the
Sea-serpent; the first being from an American source:
THE SEA-SERPENT.
"Sed tempus necessit, and this was all over,
Cum illi successit another gay rover,
Nam cum navigaret, in his own cutter
Portentum apparet, which made them all flutter.
Est horridus anguis which they behold;
Haud dubio sanguis within them ran cold;
Trigenta pedes his head was upraised
Et corporis sedes in secret was placed.
Sic serpens manebat, so says the same joker,
Et sese ferebat as stiff as a poker;
Tergum fricabat against the old lighthouse;
Et sese liberabat of scaly detritus.
Tunc plumbo percussit, thinking he hath him,
At serpens exsiluit full thirty fathom;
Exsiluit mare with pain and affright,
Conatus abnare as fast as he might.
Neque illi secuti--no, nothing so rash,
Terrore sunt multi, he'd make such a splash,
Sed nunc adierunt, the place to inspect,
Et squamus viderunt, the which they collect.
Quicunque non credat aut doubtfully rails
Ad locum accedat, they'll show him the scales,
Quas, sola trophæa, they brought to the shore,--
Et causa est ea they couldn't get more."
THE DEATH OF THE SEA-SERPENT.
BY PUBLIUS JONATHAN VIRGILIUS JEFFERSON SMITH.