One guiding eye I need
In running through the gaps;
My tail, as on I speed,
Is caught in many traps.
327. A CHESS CHARADE
By H. J. C. Andrews
In the ’seventies no one was more popular at Simpson’s Chess Room in the Strand than the gentle and brilliant subject of these lines, a clever water-colourist. The charade is by his friend, the well-known problem composer. Both have passed away, but they are not forgotten by those who had the happiness to know them:—
Of all the birds that ever sought a mate,
My first is to but one appropriate,
So speak the word! nor silence shyly woo.
To find my next, go! wander in the Zoo!
My whole is a magician of the squares,
But Art, with Chess, his best affections shares,
So this, indeed, to him may be a law
When winning’s hopeless, grandly still to draw.
328. WHAT AM I?
Though poor and humble was my birth
I sit enthroned on high;
My footsteps far above the earth,
My canopy the sky.
O’er toiling subjects thus in state
I bear despotic sway;
Yet on them hand and foot I wait
At break and close of day.