"St-St," he 'd whisper, "the Corregidor!" I had been used to think that personage Was one with lacquered breeches, lustrous belt, Who blew a trumpet and proclaimed the news, He had a great observance from us boys ; I'd like now, yet had haply been afraid, Thro' a whole campaign of the world's life and death, In his old coat and up to knees in mud, And, now the day was won, relieved at once! You are sure, for one thing! Bless us, all the while A second, and the angels alter that. Well, I could never write a verse,—could you? PROTUS. AMONG these latter busts we count by scores, Violets instead of laurel in the hair, As those were all the little locks could bear. Now read here. "Protus ends a period "Of empery beginning with a god; "Born in the porphyry chamber at Byzant, "Queens by his cradle, proud and ministrant : "And if he quickened breath there, 't would like fire "Pantingly through the dim vast realm transpire. "A fame that he was missing, spread afar: "The world, from its four corners, rose in war, "Till he was borne out on a balcony "To pacify the world when it should see. "The captains ranged before him, one, his hand "In shape, all said, in feature and in hue, "While young Greek sculptors gazing on the child "In easy tomes a life's experience: "And artists took grave counsel to impart "In one breath and one hand-sweep, all their art, "And make his graces prompt as blossoming "Of plentifully-watered palms in spring : "Since well beseems it, whoso mounts the throne, "For beauty, knowledge, strength, should stand alone, "And mortals love the letters of his name." -Stop! Have you turned two pages? Still the same. "A blacksmith's bastard, whose hard hand reprieved "The Empire from its fate the year before,— "Came, had a mind to take the crown, and wore "The same for six years, (during which the Huns "As hearsay. Some think, John let Protus live "Is extant yet. A Protus of the race "Is rumoured to have died a monk in Thrace,— 66 And, if the same, he reached senility." Here's John the Smith's rough-hammered head. Great eye, Gross jaw and griped lips do what granite can MASTER HUGUES OF SAXE-GOTHA. I HIST, but a word, fair and soft! Forth and be judged, Master Hugues ! Answer the question I've put you so oft: What do you mean by your mountainous fugues? See, we 're alone in the loft, I, the poor organist here, II Hugues, the composer of note, Dead though, and done with, this many a year: Let's have a colloquy, something to quote, Make the world prick up its ear! III See, the church ernpties apace : Fast they extinguish the lights. Hallo there, sacristan! Five minutes' grace! Here's a crank pedal wants setting to rights, Baulks one of holding the base. IV See, our huge house of the sounds, Bids the last loiterer back to his bounds! -O you may challenge them, not a response. Get the church-saints on their rounds! V (Saints go their rounds, who shall doubt? Up nave, down chancel, turn transept about, VI Aloys and Jurien and Just— Order things back to their place, Have a sharp eye lest the candlesticks rust, Rub the church-plate, darn the sacrament-lace, Clear the desk-velvet of dust.) VII Here's your book, younger folks shelve! Played I not off-hand and runningly, Just now, your masterpiece, hard number twelve? Here's what should strike, could one handle it cunningly : Help the axe, give it a helve! VIII Page after page as I played, Every bar's rest, where one wipes Sweat from one's brow, I looked up and surveyed, O'er my three claviers, yon forest of pipes Whence you still peeped in the shade. IX Sure you were wishful to speak, You, with brow ruled like a score, Yes, and eyes buried in pits on each cheek, Like two great breves, as they wrote them of yore, Each side that bar, your straight beak! X Sure you said—“ Good, the mere notes ! Still, couldst thou take my intent, "Know what procured me our Company's votes "A master were lauded and sciolists shent, "Parted the sheep from the goats!" XI Well then, speak up, never flinch! -Burnt, do you see? to its uttermost inch- XII First you deliver your phrase -Nothing propound, that I see, Fit in itself for much blame or much praise |