Edward Lear - Eclogue:Composed at Cannes, December 9th, 1867Edward Lear - Eclogue:Composed at Cannes, December 9th, 1867
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(Interlocutors--Mr. Lear and Mr. and Mrs. Symonds.)
Edwardus--What makes you look so black, so glum, so cross?
Is it neuralgia, headache, or remorse?
Johannes--What makes you look as cross, or even more so?
Less like a man than is a broken Torso?
E--What if my life is odious, should I grin?
If you are savage, need I care a pin?
J--And if I suffer, am I then an owl?
May I not frown and grind my teeth and growl?
E--Of course you may; but may not I growl too!
May I not frown and grind my teeth like you!
J--See Catherine comes! To her, to her,
Let each his several miseries refer;
She shall decide whose woes are least or worst,
And which, as growler, shall rank last or first.
Catherine--Proceed to growl, in silence I`ll attend,
And hear your foolish growlings to the end;
And when they`re done, I shall correctly judge
Which of your griefs are real or only fudge.
Begin, let each his mournful voice prepare,
(And pray, however angry, do not swear!)
J--We came abroad for warmth, and find sharp cold!
Cannes is an imposition, and we`re sold.
E--Why did I leave my native land, to find
Sharp hailstones, snow, and most disgusting wind?
J--What boots it that we orange trees or lemons see,
If we must suffer from such vile inclemency?
E--Why did I take the lodgings I have got,
Where all I don`t want is:--all I want not?
J--Last week I called alout, O! O! O! O!
The ground is wholly overspread with snow!
Is that at any rate a theme for mirth
Which makes a sugar-cake of all the earth?
E--Why must I sneeze and snuffle, groan and cough,
If my hat`s on my head, or if it`s off?
Why must I sink all poetry in this prose,
The everlasting blowing of my nose?
J--When I walk out the mud my footsteps clogs,
Besides, I suffer from attacks of dogs.
E--Me a vast awful bulldog, black and brown,
Completely terrified when near the town;
As calves perceiving butchers, trembling reel,
So did my calves the approaching monster feel.
J--Already from two rooms we`re driven away,
Because the beastly chimneys smoke all day;
Is this a trifle, say? Is this a joke?
That we, like hams, should be becooked in smoke?
E--Say, what avails it that my servant speaks
Italian, English, Arabic, and Greek,
Besides Albanian; if he don`t speak French,
How can I ask for salt, or shrimps, or tench?
J--When on the foolish hearth fresh wood I place,
It whistles, sings, and squeaks, before my face;
And if it does unless the fire burns bright,
And if it does, yet squeaks, how can I write?
E--Alas! I needs must go and call on swells,
That they may say, "O Pray draw me the Estrelles."
On one I went last week to leave a card,
The swell was out--the servant eyed me hard:
"This chap`s a thief disguised," his face expressed:
If I go there again, may I be blest!
J--Why must I suffer in this wind and gloom!
Roomattics in a vile cold attic room?
E--Swells drive about the road with haste and fury;
As Jehu drove about all over Jewry.
Just now, while walking slowly, I was all but
Run over by the Lady Emma Talbot,
Whom not long since a lovely babe I knew,
With eyes and cap-ribbons of perfect blue.
J--Downstairs and upstairs, every blessed minute,
There`s each room with pianofortes in it.
How can I write with noises such as those?
And, being always discomposed, compose?
E--Seven Germans through my garden lately strayed
And all on instruments of torture played:
They blew, they screamed, they yelled: how can I paint
Unless my room is quiet, which it ain`t?
J--How can I study if a hundred flies
Each moment blunder into both my eyes?
E--How can I draw with green or blue or red,
If flies and beetles vex my old bald head?
J--How can I translate German Metaphys-
-Ics, if mosquitoes round my forehead whizz?
E--I`ve bought some bacon (Though it`s much too fat),
But round the house there prowls a hideous cat;
Once should I see my bacon in her mouth,
What care I if my rooms look north or south?
J--Pain from a pane in one cracked window comes,
Which sings and whistles, buzzes, shrieks and hums;
In vain amain with pain the pane with this chord
I fain would strain to stop the beastly dischord!
E--If rain and wind and snow and such like ills
Continue here, how shall I pay my bills?
For who through cold and slush and rain will come
To see my drawings and to purchase some?
And if they don`t, what destiny is mine?
How can I ever get to Palestine?
J--The blinding sun strikes through the olive trees,
When I walk out, and always makes me sneeze.
E--Next door, if all night long the moon is shining,
There sits a dog, who wakes me up with whining.
Cath.--Forbear! You both are bores, you`ve growled enough:
No longer will I listen to such stuff!
All men have nuisances and bores to afflict `um;
Hark then, and bow to my official dictum!
For you, Johannes, there is most excuse,
(Some interruptions are the very deuce),
You`re younger than the other cove, who surely
Might have some sense--besides, you`re somewhat poorly.
This therefore is my sentence, that you nurse
The Baby for seven hours, and nothing worse.
For you, Edwardus, I shall say no more
Than that your griefs are fudge, yourself a bore;
Return at once to cold, stewed, minced, hashed mutton--
To wristbands ever guiltless of a button--
To raging winds and sea (where don`t you wish
Your luck may ever let you catch one fish?)--
To make large drawings nobody will buy--
To paint oil pictures which will never dry--
To write new books which nobody will read--
To drink weak tea, on tough old pigs to feed--
Till spring-time brings the birds and leaves and flowers,
And time restores a world of happier hours.
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