Mome (hence solemome, solemne, and solemn), “grave.”
Raths. “A species of land turtle, head erect, mouth like a shark; the forelegs curved out so that the animal walked on his knees; smooth green body; lived on swallows and oysters.”
Outgrabe (past tense of the verb to outgribe; it is connected with the old verb to grike or shrike, from which are derived “shriek” and “creak”), “squeaked.”
“Hence the literal English of the passage is—‘It was evening, and the smooth active badgers were scratching and boring holes in the hillside; all unhappy were the parrots, and the green turtles squeaked out.’ There were probably sun-dials on the top of the hill, and the borogoves were afraid that their nests would be undermined. The hill was probably full of the nests of ‘raths’ which ran out squeaking with fear on hearing the ‘toves’ scratching outside. This is an obscure yet deeply affecting relic of ancient poetry.”
(Croft—1855. Ed.)
This lucid explanation was evidently one of the editor’s contributions to Misch-Masch during his college days, so this classic poem must have “simmered” for many years before Lewis Carroll put it “Through the Looking-Glass.” But when Alice questioned the all-wise Humpty-Dumpty on the subject he gave some simpler definitions. When asked the meaning of “mome raths,” he replied:
“Well, rath is a sort of green pig; but mome I’m not certain about. I think it’s short for ‘from home,’ meaning they’d lost their way, you know.”
Lewis Carroll called such words “portmanteaus” because there were two meanings wrapped up in one word, and all through “Jabberwocky” these queer “portmanteau” words give us the key to the real meaning of the poem. In the preface to a collection of his poems, he gives us the rule for the building of these “portmanteau” words. He says: “Take the two words ‘fuming’ and ‘furious.’ Make up your mind that you will say both words, but leave it unsettled which you will say first. Now open your mouth and speak. If your thoughts incline ever so little toward ‘fuming’ you will say ‘fuming-furious’; if they turn by even a hair’s breadth toward ‘furious’ you will say ‘furious-fuming’; but if you have that rarest of gifts, a perfectly balanced mind, you will say ‘frumious.’”
It is hard to tell what he had in mind when he wrote of this deed of daring—for such it was. Possibly, St. George and the Dragon inspired him, and like the best of preachers he turned his sermon into wholesome nonsense. The Jabberwock itself was a most awe-inspiring creature, and Tenniel’s drawing is most deliciously blood-curdling; half-snake, half-dragon, with “jaws that bite and claws that scratch,” it is yet saved from being utterly terrible by having some nice homely looking buttons on his waistcoat and upon his three-clawed feet, something very near akin to shoes.
The anxious father bids his brave son good-bye, little dreaming that he will see him again.