A DIRGE.
(Adapted from Thomas Hood.)
"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old.
But something ails it now: the place is curst."
"Hart-Leap Well," by Wordsworth.
I.
A residence for Tory, Whig or Rad,
Where yet none had abiding habitation;
A House—but darkened by the influence sad
Of slow disintegration.
O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear,
A sense of mystery the spirit daunted,
And said as plain as whisper in the ear,
The place is Haunted!
There speech grew wild and rankly as the weed,
GRAHAM with TANNER waged competitive trials,
And vulgar bores of Billingsgatish breed
Voided spleen's venomed vials.
But gay or gloomy, fluent or infirm,
None heeded their dull drawls, of hours' duration.
The House was clearly in for a long term
Of desolate stagnation.
The SPEAKER yawned upon his Chair, he found
It tiring work, a placid brow to furrow,
To sit out speeches arguing round and round,
From County or from Borough.
The Members, like wild rabbits, scudded through
The lobbies, took their seats, lounged, yawned—and vanished.
The Whips like spectres wandered; well they knew
All discipline was banished.
The blatant bore,—the faddist, and the fool,
Were listened to with an indifferent tameness.
The windbag of the new Hibernian school
Railed on with shocking sameness.
The moping M.P. motionless and stiff,
Who, on his bench sat silently and stilly,
Gawped with round eyes and pendulous lips, as if
He had been stricken silly:
No cheery sound, except when far away
Came echoes of 'cute LABBY's cynic laughter,
Which, sick of Dumbleborough's chattering jay,
His listeners rambled after.
But Echo's self tires of a GRAHAM's tongue,
Rot blent with rudeness gentlest nymph can't pardon.
Why e'en the G.O.M. his grey head hung,
And wished he were at Hawarden.
Like vine unpruned, SEXTON's exuberant speech
Sprawled o'er the question with the which he'd grapple;
PICTON prosed on,—the style in which men preach
In a dissenting chapel.
Prince ARTHUR twined one lank leg t'other round,
Drooping a long chin like BURNE-JONES's ladies;
And HARCOURT, sickening of the strident sound,
Wished CONYBEARE in Hades.
For over all there hung a cloud of fear,
A sense of imminent doom the spirit daunted,
And said, as plain as whisper in the ear,
The House is Haunted!
II.
Oh, very gloomy is this House of Woe,
Where yawns are numerous while Big Ben is knelling.
It is not on the Session dull and slow,
These pale M.P.'s are dwelling.
Oh, very, very dreary is the gloom,
But M.P.'s heed not HEALY's elocution;
Each one is wondering what may be his doom
After the Dissolution!
That House of Woe must soon be closed to all
Who linger now therein with tedium mortal,
And of those lingerers a proportion small
Again may pass its portal.
There's many a one who o'er its threshold stole
In Eighty-Six's curious Party tangle,
Who for the votes which helped him head the poll
In vain again may angle.
The GRAHAMS and the CALDWELLS may look bold,
So may the CONYBEARES, and COBBS and TANNERS;
But the next House quite other men may hold,
And (let's hope) other manners.
They'd like to know when this will close its door
Upon each moribund and mournful Member,
And who will stand upon the House's floor
After, say, next November.
That's why the M.P.'s sit in silent doubt,
Why spirits flag, and cheeks are pale and livid,
And why the DISSOLUTION SPOOK stands out
So ominously vivid.
Some key to the result of the appeal
They yearn for vainly, all their nerves a-quiver;
The presence of the Shadow they all feel,
And sit, and brood, and shiver.
There is a sombre rumour in the air,
The shadow of a Presence dim, atrocious;
No human creature can be festive there,
Even the most ferocious.
An Omen in the place there seems to be,
Both sides with spectral perturbation covering.
The straining eyeballs are prepared to see
The Apparition hovering.
With doubt, with fear, their features are o'ercast;
SALISBURY at Covent Garden might have spoken,
But, save for Rumour's whispers on the blast,
The silence is unbroken.
And over all there hangs a cloud of fear,
The Spook of Dissolution all has daunted,
And says as plain as whisper in the ear,
The House is Haunted!
