New-York tribune., 1881-09-11
THE POETRY OF PARODY.

FROM The GeaHemdn's Maga-ine.
ot, SWt,lhbuInian parody turns very much upon the
poeos lhetrIcai fashions and upon his alliteratiye
passages Here for example, is Mortimer CoIins,s
quizzieal reproduction Of truly Swinburnian
metre:
Take endiye-like love, it is bitter
Take beet-for, like love, il is red
Crisp leaf of the lettuce shall glitter
Ana cress from the ivulet's bed:
Anehoyles, toamborn like the lady
AWd wnose osS,, ", beauty has lnaddcned this bard;
And eggs-boil 'em hard.
Here again, is Lewis CAROLS adaptation of metre
no less Swinburnian:
AND T,I whispered a. guess
The sweet secret thou keepest,
Ana the dainty distress
An, Cha That thou wistfully wecpcst;
Anu the question is, Licence bannsi' though I'm
oouotcdly banns are the cheapest"
Then her white hand clasped
And with kisses crowned It,
%t And sns She siapTd m%ttspSa snd she Easped w
or at least was something like that, the noise Of
The omnibus drowned il.
ms too, from old number of Once a Week. is
not 80 bad: ' "
III II be but a dream q vision,
The life that is after the grave,
The wall of the metaphy sician
Is vanl--bu an answer crave;
Anlb lha1r Gright gd intellectual mt ,lI famheaux
. sable and sensual samDo,
The servant OF me!
For sufficient, erposd of the faults of Miss Inge-
lows DOetlc style, we have to again to Mr., Cal
Verey, who has effected this purpose in one of the
most successful of his pieces:
In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams fatter
And heaven 1t knoweth what they mean
meaning, however, Is no great mattcr),
"hcre woods are atremble, with riffs atwecn;
Through Gods own heather we wonnd together,
ana my Willie % love, my love-:
need hardly remark 1t was glorious weather,
Ana hittcrbats waverd allow, above:
Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing
And sands were a ribbon of green endowng,
And the sundazzle on bark and blight!
Through the rare red heather we danced together
IN. a. u m for
Rhymes are so scarce in this world of
or Wordsworth's 1--WE are Seven" incomparably
the best parody is Mr.. II. S. Leighs-unhappily too
long To quote In full:
Said |, "W What is 1T makes you badi
How many apples have you hadf
she answered. Only Seven"
And are you sure you took no more
"Oh. please, sir, mother gave me four,
But they we're in Il pie!'
"If that's the case" I stammcred out,
" OF course you've had eleven"
The maiden answered, with a pout,
amt had more nor sevenw
When Mr. Tcnnyson is reached. we become some
what embarrassed by the riches in the way of par
ody which have accumulated round certain of his
poems OF Home they brought her warrior dead"
know at least two perfectly excellent travesties
and there may he more shirley 3rookss may be
found in the volume of his collected "Wit and HUI
mor.' Mr.. Sawyers runs:-
Home they brought her sailor son,
Crown man across the sea,
Tall and broad and black OF beard,
And honrsc OF voice as man may be-
Hand 20 shake and mouth to kiss,
Both he offered ere nc spoke;
But she said, "W What man is this
Comes 10 play sorry iokei"
Then they praised hm--cald him smart"
" "1tghtcs lad that ever stept"
But her she did not know,
And she neither smiled nor wcpt.
Rose. nurse OF ninety years,
Bet pigeon IN sight;
She him eat" '1s he! lis he! -"
She knew hm-by his appetite!