Part 9 (1/2)

(1879)

SOLITUDE IN SEPTEMBER.

O BEATA SOLITUDO; O SOLA BEAt.i.tUDO.

(_Inscription in the Grounds of Burg Birseck, near Basel._)

Sweet Solitude where dost thou linger?

When and where shall I look in thy face?

Feel the soft magic touch of thy finger, The glow of thy silent embrace?

Stern Civilization has banished Thy charms to a region unknown; The spell of thy beauty has vanished-- Sweet Solitude, where hast thou flown?

I have sought thee on pampas and prairie, By blue lake and bluer creva.s.se, On sh.o.r.es that are arid and airy, Lone peak, and precipitous pa.s.s.

I have sought thee, sweet Solitude, ever Regardless of peril and pain; But in spite of my utmost endeavour I have sought thee, fair charmer, in vain.

To the Alps, to the Alps in September, Unconducted by Cook, did I rush; Full well even now I remember How my heart with emotion did gush.

Here at least in these lonely recesses With thee I shall cast in my lot; Shall feel thy endearing caresses, Forgetting all else and forgot.

But I met a young couple ”proposing”

On the top of the sunny Languard; I surprised an old gentleman dozing, ”Times” in hand, on the heights of Fort Bard.

In the fir woods of sweet Pontresina Picnic papers polluted the walks; On the top of the frosty Bernina I found a young mountain of--corks.

I trod, by the falls of the Handeck, On the end of a penny cigar; As I roamed in the woods above Landeck A hair-pin my pleasure did mar: To the Riffel in vain I retreated, Mr. Gaze and the Gazers were there; On the top of the Matterhorn seated I picked up a lady's back hair!

From the Belle Vue in Thun I was hunted By ”'Arry” who wished to play pool; On the Col du Bonhomme I confronted The whole of a young ladies' school.

At Giacomo's Inn in Chiesa I was asked to take shares in a mine; With an agent for ”Mappin's new Razor”

I sat down at Baveno to dine.

On the waves of Lake Leman were floating Old lemons (imagine my feelings!), The fish in Lucerne were all gloating On cast-away salads and peelings; And egg-sh.e.l.ls and old bones of chicken On the sh.o.r.e of St. Moritz did lie: My spirit within me did sicken-- Sweet Solitude, where shall I fly?

Disconsolate, gloomy, and undone I take in the ”Dilly” my place; By Zurich and Basel to London I rush, as if running a race.

My quest and my troubles are over; As I drive through the desolate street To my Club in Pall Mall, I discover Sweet Solitude's summer retreat.

MEDITATIONS OF A

CLa.s.sICAL MAN ON A MATHEMATICAL PAPER

DURING A LATE FELLOWs.h.i.+P EXAMINATION.

Woe, woe is me! for whither can I fly?

Where hide me from Mathesis' fearful eye?

Where'er I turn the G.o.ddess haunts my path, Like grim Megoera in revengeful wrath: In accents wild, that would awake the dead, Bids me perplexing problems to unthread; Bids me the laws of _x_ and _y_ to unfold, And with ”dry eyes” dread mysteries behold.

Not thus, when blood maternal he had shed, The Furies' fangs Orestes wildly fled; Not thus Ixion fears the falling stone, Tisiphone's red lash, or dark Cocytus' moan.

Spare me, Mathesis, though thy foe I be, Though at thy altar ne'er I bend the knee, Though o'er thy ”a.s.ses' Bridge” I never pa.s.s, And ne'er in this respect will prove an a.s.s; Still let mild mercy thy fierce anger quell! oh Let, let me live to be a Johnian fellow!

She hears me not! with heart as hard as lead, She hurls a Rhombus at my luckless head.

Lo, where her myrmidons, a wrangling crew, With howls and yells rise darkling to the view.

There Algebra, a maiden old and pale, Drinks ”double _x_,” enough to drown a whale.