THE JOURNALIST-AT-ARMS.
Who would not be a Journalist-at-Arms?
Life for that paladin hath poignant charms.
Whether in pretty quarrel he shall run
Just half an inch of rapier—in pure fun—
In his opponent's biceps, or shall flick
His shoulders with a slender walking-stick.
The "stern joy" of the man indeed must rise
To raptures and heroic ecstacies.
Oh, glorious climax of a vulgar squabble,
To redden your foe's nose, or make him hobble
For half a week or so, as though, perchance,
He'd strained an ancle in a leap or dance!
Feeble sword-play or futile fisticuffs
Might be disdained by warriors—or roughs;
But to the squabbling scribe the farce has charms.
Who would not be a Journalist-at-Arms?