ADVICE TO A YOUNG PARTY SCRIBE.
You may, an it please you, be dull,
(For Britons deem dulness "respectable");
Stale flowers of speech you may cull,
With meanings now scarcely detectable;
You may wallow in saturnine spite,
You may flounder in flatulent flummery;
Be sombre as poet Young's "Night,"
And dry as a Newspaper "Summary";
As rude as a yowling Yahoo,
As chill as a volume of Chitty;
But oh, Sir, whatever you do,
You must not be witty!
Plod on through the sand-wastes of Fact,
Long level of gritty aridity;
With pompous conceit make a pact,
Be bondsman to bald insipidity;
Be slab as a black Irish bog,
Slow, somnolent, stupid, and stodgy;
Plunge into sophistical fog,
And the realms of the dumpishly dodgy.
With trump elephantine and slow,
Tread on through word-swamps, dank and darkling;
But no, most decidedly no,
You must not be sparkling!
Be just as unjust as you like,
A conscienceless, 'cute special-pleader;
As spiteful as Squeers was to Smike,
(You may often trace Squeers in a "leader.")
Impute all the vileness you can,
Poison truth with snake-venom of fable,
Be fair—as is woman to man,
And kindly—as Cain was to Abel.
Suggest what is false in a sneer,
Suppress what is true by confusing;
Be sour, stale, and flat as small-beer,
But don't be amusing!
Party zealots will pardon your spite,
If against their opponents it sputters,
The way a (word) foeman to fight,
Is to misrepresent all he utters.
That does not need wisdom or wit,
(Ye poor party-scribes, what a blessing!)
No clean knightly sword, but a spit
Is the weapon for mangling and messing;
Wield that, like a cudgel-armed rough
Blent with ruthless bravo,—such are numerous!—
Lie, slander, spout pitiful stuff,
But—beware of the humorous!
For if you should fall into fun,
You might lapse into manly good-nature,
And then—well your course would be run!
No,—study up spleen's nomenclature;
Learn all the mad logic of hate,
And then, though your style be like skilly,
Your sense frothy Styx in full spate.
And your maxims portentously silly;
You will find party scope for your pen,
Coin meanness and malice to money;
But sour dulness must keep to his den,
And never be funny.
