Dear Lady, take this sober view,
It matters little what is true—
The world is not the place for you.
I rede you therefore, go away;
Or, if you really mean to stay,
Let’s hear your views another day.
[Ariel and the Hippopotamus]
Dedicated to Rural Magnates
Fine Ariel, serf to Prospero,
Sped on the Great Meridian
For jetty pearls from Andaman
To make a chaplet to declare
The beauty of Miranda’s hair,
When at the desert African,
Out of his master’s ken, and slow,
Lag’d on his errand, loth to go:
For sweltering Sol with leaden beam
Made stagnant all the windy stream
And suck’d from earth a stifling steam.
There idling still, the lazy Sprite
Beheld below, beneath his flight,
The Lord of Rivers, blackly bright,
Who, planted in a marshy bed,
On mighty rushes munching fed
And sigh’d for more the more he sped.
‘Good day, my lord; I hope you’re well,’
Quoth then the jocund Ariel.
‘Why, thank’ee, Sir, sound as a bell;
Save I’d complain, did I but choose,
My appetite’s so poor I lose
Half this fine fodder. What’s the news?’
‘Great Sir, the news I brought away
Is not so good, I’m sad to say—
Jove has the gout again to-day.’
‘Why,’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That ain’t no call to make a fuss;
I’ve had the same and am no wuss.’
‘’Tis said that Cytherea, queen
Of beauty, weds to-day at e’en
The sooty Vulcan hump’d and mean.’
‘There,’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That party I will not discuss.
She might have me and do no wuss.’
‘Apollo, lord of lay and lyre,
Hath seated now his Heavenly Choir
Upon Parnassus’ starry spire.’
‘Foh!’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘For that I do not care a cuss,
And they may sing until they bus’!’
‘Jove, sad for Io, hath aver’d
No sound of laughter shall be heard
One year in Heav’n, nor witty word.’
‘Ah!’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That there don’t suit the likes of us.
I vow I won’t be muzzled thus.’
‘Farewell, Sir,’ quoth the lissom Sprite;
‘Behoves me tear me from your sight.
I must about the world ere night.’
‘Farewell, young friend,’ responded he;
‘The work I have to do you see.
But if you hear the Thund’rer sigh
For counsel, Mars for an ally,
Dian for love, I think that I—
I pray you say a word for me.’