[37]
IN gorgeous splendor, once upon a time
My second reigned in Afric’s sunny clime;
A slave provoked his monarch’s royal ire,
And stood before him under sentence dire.
“My first, my last,” he stammered, “pity me!
Must I obey thy horrible decree?
Oh, thou who over millions hast control—”
One word the magnate uttered, ’t was my whole.
[38]
GREAT Shakespeare was my first; yet when he died
He left my first. By loving hands his clay
Was laid my second in the tomb. And now
His tombstone to the traveler seems to speak,
And say, “My second! here ’s my first!”
The fair Ophelia, gentle, hapless soul,
Sank to a watery grave beneath my whole.
[39]
MY first was a scholarly Scotchman of note,
Discourses and essays he learnedly wrote,
My second was found in the post, such a scrawl!
That letter never was opened at all.
My third ’s made of flesh and sinew and bone,
My first, I suppose had two of his own;
My whole is a man delightful to folks
Who enjoy reading jocular jingles and jokes.