THE MAGIC HORSE.
(A Parallel not to be pushed too far.)
["You are likewise to understand that MALAMBRUNO told me that, whenever fortune should direct me to the knight who was to be our deliverer, he would send him a steed—not like the vicious jades let out for hire, for it should be that very wooden horse upon which PETER of Provence carried off the fair MAGALONA.... MALAMBRUNO, by his art, has now got possession of him, and by this means posts about to every port of the world."
"Hoodwink thyself, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "and get up.... And supposing the success of the adventure should not be equal to our hopes, yet of the glory of so brave an attempt no malice can deprive us.... The whole company raised their voices at once, calling out, 'Speed you well, valorous Knight! heaven guide thee, undaunted Squire! Now you fly aloft!'"—Adventures of Don Quixote.]
Yes, "Speed you well, most valorous Knight!
Heaven guide you!"—and sound sense inspire you!
Small marvel that our land's black blight
Of want and misery should fire you,
Or any man whose heart will mourn
More for wrecked lives than broken crockery.
This picture is not shaped in scorn,
Nor meant in mockery.
La Mancha's Knight, though brave, was blind,
Squire Sancho just a trifle credulous,
But our dear Don was nobly kind,
And in the cause of suffering sedulous.
If, mounting MALAMBRUNO's steed,
He showed more sanguine than sagacious,
He was not moved by huckster greed,
Or pride edacious.
But "with what bridle is he led?
And with what halter is he guided?"
Asked Sancho, rubbing his clown's head.
So they who have the least derided
Your plan for floating "the submerged,"
Colossal, costly, wide extending,
Feel some few questions may be urged,
Without offending.
Benevolence the crupper mounts,
His arms, like Sancho's, from behind fold;
But it would seem, from all accounts,
He, like Don Quixote's Squire, rides blindfold;
It may be to most glorious ends,
It may be to disastrous spillings.
Sense fain would know before it spends
Its hard-earned shillings.
If all were genuine that is Big,
If all were sound that's well intended,
Quixote's wild jaunt and Sancho's jig
Would very differently have ended.
Zeal boldly mounts the Magic Horse,
Charity on behind holds tightly,
Who will not wish them skill and force
To guide it rightly?
But Human Life's a complex maze,
And Nature's laws are most despotic.
Vice is not killed by kindly craze.
Nor suffering quelled by zeal Quixotic.
Big questions the Big Scheme beset.
Bid Pity think, and do not ask it
Too blindly all its eggs to get
In one huge basket.
Philanthropy, which facts will school,
Is not a theme for mocking merriment.
As MORLEY says, he is the fool
Who never ventures bold experiment.
Against the ills our State that shake,
The spectre Vice, Want the pale ogress,
Punch hopes the Magic Horse may make
Practical progress.
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS, MARK, BUT I CAN'T HIT A BIRD TO-DAY!"
"LET'S SEE YOUR GUN, SIR. AH!—WELL, I'D TRY WHAT YOU COULD DO WITH SOME CARTRIDGES IN IT, IF I WAS YOU, SIR!"