Volume IV Part 23 (1/2)
Up rose M. Tullius Cicero, And seized a Roman punch,-- Then mused upon the G.o.d-like soul Was coming round to lunch.
”By Hercules!” he murmured low Unto his lordly self, ”There are not many dainties left Upon my pantry shelf!
”But what I have shall Julius share.
What, ho!” he proudly cried, ”Great Caesar comes this way anon To sit my chair beside.
”A dish of lampreys quickly stew, And cook them with a turn, For that's his favorite pabulum From Mamurra I learn.”
His slaves obey their lord's command; The table soon is laid For two distinguished gentlemen,-- One rather bald, 'tis said.
When lo! a messenger appears To sound approach--and then, ”Brave Caesar comes to greet his friend With _twice a thousand men_!
”His cohorts rend the air with shouts; That is their dust you see; The trumpeters announce him near!”
Said Marcus, ”Woe is me!
”Fly, Ca.s.sius, fly! a.s.sign a guard!
Borrow what tents you can!
Encamp his soldiers round the field, Or I'm a ruined man!
”Get sheep and oxen by the score!
Buy corn at any price!
O Jupiter! befriend me now, And give me your advice!”
It turned out better than he feared,-- Things proved enough and good,-- And Caesar made himself at home, And much enjoyed his food.
But Marcus had an awful fright,-- _That_ can not be denied; ”I'm glad 'tis over!”--when it was-- The host sat down and sighed,
And when he wrote to Atticus, And all the story told, He ended his epistle thus: ”J.C.'s a warrior bold,
”A vastly entertaining man, In Learning quite immense, So full of literary skill, And most uncommon sense,
”But, frankly, I should never say 'No trouble, sir, at all; And when you pa.s.s this way again, _Give us another call!_'”
COMIN' HOME THANKSGIVIN'
BY JAMES BALL NAYLOR
I've clean fergot my rheumatiz-- Hain't nary limp n'r hobble; I'm feelin' like a turkey-c.o.c.k-- An' ready 'most to gobble; I'm workin' spry, an' steppin' high-- An' thinkin' life worth livin'.
Fer all the children's comin' home All comin' home Thanksgivin'.
There's Mary up at Darby Town, An' Sally down at Goshen, An' Billy out at Kirkersville, An' Jim--who has a notion That Hackleyburg's the very place Fer which his soul has striven; They're all a-comin' home ag'in-- All comin' home Thanksgivin'.
Yes--yes! They're all a-comin' back; There ain't no ifs n'r maybes.
The boys'll fetch the'r wives an' kids; The gals, th'r men an' babies.