The Portland daily press., 1882-03-14
POETRY.
The Poetry Of Parody.
[Gentleman,s Magazine.

[Gentlemans Magazine
Swinburnian parody turns very much upon
the poets metrical fashions and upon his all1t-
erative passages. Here, for example, is Morti-
mer Collins's quizzical reproduction OF truly
Swinburnan metre:
Take enSine-lke love, it is bitter;
Take beet for, like love, 1t is red;
Crisp leaf of the lettuce shall glitter,
And cress from the Tivulet's bed;
Anchovies, foam-born like the LADY
Whose beauty has maddened this bard;
And olives from groves tina are shady
And eggs-bon 'em hard
Here again, is Lewis Carroll's adaptation of
metre no less Swinburnian:
And whispered, 81 guess
The sweet secret thou keepest,
And the dainty dist ss
That thou wstfully weepest;
And the question is, 1ieence or banns? though I'M
doubtedly banns are the cheapest
Then her white hand l clasped,
And with kisses / crowned it.
But she glared and she gasped
mss nd she mettefed. .'Confoundi it,"
Or at least it was something like tina but the noise
of the omnibus drowned it.
This, too, from an old number of Once
Week, is not so bad:
If it be but a dream or a vision,
The life that is afte- the grave,
The wall of the metaphysician
Is vain-but answer crave;
Amid bright intellectual lambearx
i shall find no light clearer than thee,
sable and sensual Sambo
The servant OF me!
For q sufficient expose of the faults of Miss
IngeloW's poetic style, we have to go again TO
MI. Calverley, who has effected this purpose
in one of the most successful of his pieces:
In mossprankt dells which the sunbeams fatter
land heaven it know eth what they mean;
Meaning, however, is no great ma te.l
Where woods are atreMble, with ritts atWeen!
Through Gods own heather we wound together,
and my Willie % love, my loye):
need hardly rem ark it was glorious weather,
And tiitterbats waver'd allow, above:
Boats were curtseying, rising, bowling
Boats in that climate are so politel,
And sands were ribbon of green endowing,
And the sundazzle on bark and blight!
Though the rare red heather we danced together
0Oh love nv WillieD and smelt for flowers;
must mention again it was gorgeous weather,
Rhymes scarce in this world OF ours
OF Wordsworth's eve are Seven" incom-
parably the best paaody is Mr. II. S. Leigh's-
unhappily, too long to quote in full:
Said I,'''What is it makes you bad?
How many apples have you had?
Sic answered. "Only SEVEN
'And are you sure you took no more,
My little maid?' quoth |.
'Oh, please, sir, mother gave me four,
eff that's the case.",I stammered out,
''Uf course you've had eleven"
EE1 The maiden answered. with ut,
81 amt had more nor seven!'
When Mr.. Tennyson is reached, we become
somewhat embarrassed by the riches in the way
of parody which have accumulated round GER
tain of his poems. OF Home they brought
her warriors dead, !" know at least two per-
fectly excellent travesties- those by
Shirley Brooks and Mr.. Sawyer-and there
may be more. Shirley Brooks's may be found
In the volume of his collected wit and HUI
NOR" Mr.. Sawyer's runs
Home they brought her sailor son,
Grown man across the sea,
Tall and broad and black of beard,
And hoarse of voice as man may be.
Hand to shake and mouth to kiss,
But he offered ere he spoke;
Both she sad, ''What man is this
Comes to play sorry joker"
Then they praised hm-calrd him "snart"
"1ightest lad that ever stept;''
But her son she did not know,
And she neither smiled nor wept.
Rose, a of ninety years,
Set pgeon-pie in sight;
She saw him eat-"Tis he! tis help
She knew him-by his appetitel