The burden of long fielding, when the clay
Clings to thy shoon in sudden showers downpour,
And running still thou stumblest, or the ray
Of blazing suns doth bite and burn thee sore,
And blind thee till, forgetful of thy lore,
Thou dost most mournfully misjudge a "skyer"
And lose a match the Fates cannot restore,—
"This is the end of every man's desire!"
Envoy.
Alas, yet liefer on youth's hither shore
Would I be some poor Player on scant hire
Than king among the old who play no more,-
"This is the end of every man's desire!"
Andrew Lang.
THE PRODIGALS.
(Dedicated to Mr. Chaplin, M.P., and Mr. Richard Power, M.P. and 223 who followed them.)
Ministers!-you, most serious,
Critics and statesmen of all degrees,
Hearken awhile to the motion of us,-
Senators keen for the Epsom breeze!
Nothing we ask of posts or fees;
Worry us not with objections pray!
Lo,-for the speakers wig we seize-
Give us-ah! give us-the Derby Day.
Scots most prudent, penurious!
Irishmen busy as humblebees!
Hearken awhile to the motion of us,-
Senators keen for the Epsom breeze!
For Sir Joseph's sake, and his owner's, please!
(Solomon raced like fun, they say)
Lo for we beg on our bended knees,-
Give us-ah! give us-the Derby Day.
Campbell-Asheton be generous!
(But they voted such things were not the cheese)
Sullivan, hear us, magnanimous!
(But Sullivan thought with their enemies.)
And shortly they got both of help and ease
For a mad majority crowded to say-
"Debate we've drunk to the dregs and lees;
Give us—ah! give us—the Derby Day."