Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentricities

by Unknown

“Qui nunc dancere vult modo, Wants to dance in the fashion, oh! Discere debit ought to know, Kickere floor cum heel and toe. One, two, three Come hop with me— Whirligig, twirligig, rapidee. Polkam, jungere, Virgo vis? Will you join in the polka, miss? Liberius, most willingly, Sic agemus, then let us try. Nunc vide, Skip with me. Whirlabout, roundabout, celere. Tum læva cito tum dextra, First to the left, then t’other way; Aspice retro in vultu, You look at her, she looks at you. Das palmam, Change hands, ma’am, Celere, run away, just in sham.” —Gilbert Abbot A’Becket.

Clubbis Noster.

“Sunt quidam jolly dogs, Saturday qui nocte frequentant, Antiqui Stephanon, qui stat prope mœnia Drury, Where they called for saccos cum prog distendere bellies, Indulgere jocis, nec non Baccho atque tobacco; In mundo tales non fellows ante fuere Magnanionam heroum celebrabe carmine laudeo, Posthæ illustres ut vivant omne per ævum, Altior en Stephano locus est, snug, cosy recessus, Hic quarters fixere suos, conclave tenet hic, Hic dapibus cumulata, hic mahogany mensa, Pascuntur varies, roast beef cum pudding of Yorkshire, Interdum, sometimes epulis quis nomen agrestes Boiled leg of mutton and trimmings imposuere Hic double X haurit, Barclay and Perkins ille. Sic erimus drunki, Deel care! aras dat mendicinum Nec desuit mixtis que sese polibus implent. Quus ‘offnoff’ omnes consuescunt dicere waiters. Postquam, exempta fames grubbo mappaque remota. Pro cyathio clarmet, qui goes sermone vocantur. Vulgari, of whiskey, rum, gin and brandy, sed ut sunt; Cœlicolumqui punch (‘erroribus absque’) liquore Gaudent; et panci vino quod prœbet Opporto, Quod certi black-strap dicunt nicknomine Graii, Haustibus his pipe, communis et adjiciuntur, Shag, Reditus, Cubæ, Silvæ, Cheroots et Havanæ, ‘Festina viri,’ bawls one, ‘nunc ludito verbis,’ Alter ‘Fœmineum sexum’ propinquat et ‘Hurrah!’ Respondet pot house concessu plausibus omni. Nunc similes, veteri versantur winky lepores Omnibus exiguus nec. Jingoteste tumultus, Exoritur quoniam summâ, nituntur opum vi Rivales ἃλλοι top sawyers’ ἑμμεναι ἀλλὥ, Est genus injenui lusûs quod nomine Burking. Notem est, vel Burko, qui claudere cuncta solebat Ora olim, eloquio, pugili vel forsitan isto Deaf un, vel Burko pueros qui Burxit ad illud, Plausibus aut fictis joculatorem excipiendo, Aut bothering aliquid referentem, constat amicum. Hoc parvo excutitur multus conamine risus. Nomina magnorum referebam nunc pauca viorum, Marcus et Henricus Punchi duo lumina magna (Whacks his Aristoteleam, Sophoclem, Brown wollopeth ille) In clubbum adveniunt, Juvenalis et advenit acer Qui veluti Paddywhack for love conlundit amicos; Ingentesque animos non parvo in corpore versans Tullius; et Matutini qui Sidus Heraldi est Georgius; Albertus Magnus; vesterque poeta. Præsidet his Nestor qui tempore vixit in annæ, Credetur et vidisse Jophet, non youngster at ullos. In chaff, audaci certamine, vinceret illum, Ille jocus mollit dictis, et pectora mulcet, Ni faciat tumblers, et goes, et pocula pewter, Quippe Aliorum alii jactarent forsan in aures.” —Punch.

Little Red Riding Hood.

“You ask me to tell you the story Of the terrible atra wood, Of the Lupi diri, μικρο παἱ, Καὶ parvula Red Riding Hood. Patruus trux, he gave her A deux larrons pravi; Et dear little robins came and Cut up cum the folii. And then he scandit Beanstalk, And giant cædit tall Et virgo grandis marri-ed Et Rem is prodegit all! For, semble, une felis was left him— (Seulement, calamitas!) Il emit chat zwei ocreæ Et was Marquis de Carrabas! Και ηεν de lady et Ursus (You’ve heard this much, at least), Et fœmina on l’appèle Beauté, And the Beast they called A Beast! Obdormivit, et amittit Ses moutons and couldn’t find ’em, So she never did nothing whatever at all, Et voila! cum caudis behind ’em! Comme des toutes les demoiselles charmantes Illæ the only lass Who could yank her foot nitide Dans le pantoufle de glass! Et straw she nevit in auribus, Et finally—child did win De expiscere Arcanum name Nami erat Rumplestiltzskin! Τρὶκε ὄικαδε μίκρο παι: Ciel! c’est time you should! Ad lectum to dream of the story Of little Red Riding Hood!” —J. A. M.

“Ich bin Dein.”

“In tempus old a hero lived, Qui loved puellas deux; He ne pouvait pas quite to say Which one amabat mieux. Dit-il lui-meme, un beau matin, ‘Non possum both avoir, Sed si address Amanda Ann, Then Kate and I have war. ‘Amanda habet argent coin, Sed Kate has aureas curls: Et both sunt very ἀγαθὰ, Et quite formosa girls. Enfin, the youthful anthropos, Φίλοῦν the duo maids, Resolved proponere ad Kate Devant cet evening’s shades. Procedens then to Kate’s domo, Il trouve Amanda there; Και quite forgot his good resolves, Both sunt so goodly fair. Sed, smiling on the new tapis, Between puellas twain, Cœpit to tell his flame to Kate Dans un poetique strain. Mais, glancing ever and anon At fair Amanda’s eyes, Illæ non possunt dicere, Pro which he meant his sighs. Each virgo heard the demi vow With cheeks as rouge as wine, And offering each a milk-white hand, Both whispered, ‘Ich bin dein!’”

Contenti Abeamus.

“Come, jocund friends, a bottle bring, And push around the jorum; We’ll talk and laugh, and quaff and sing, Nunc suavium amorum. While we are in a merry mood, Come, sit down ad bibendum; And if dull care should dare intrude, We’ll to the devil send him. A moping elf I can’t endure While I have ready rhino; And all life’s pleasures centre still In venere ac vino. Be merry then, my friends, I pray, And pass your time in joco, For it is pleasant, as they say, Desipere in loco. He that loves not a young lass, Is sure an arrant stultus, And he that will not take a glass Deserves to be sepultus. Pleasure, music, love and wine, Res valde sunt jocundæ, And pretty maidens look divine, Provided ut sunt mundæ. I hate a snarling, surly fool, Qui latrat sicut canis, Who mopes and ever eats by rule, Drinks water and eats panis. Give me the man that’s always free, Qui finit molli more, The cares of life, whate’er they be, Whose motto still is ‘Spero.’ Death will turn us soon from hence, Nigerrimas ad sedes; And all our lands and all our pence Ditabunt tunc heredes. Why should we then forbear to sport? Dum vivamus, vivamus, And when the Fates shall cut us down, Contenti abeamus.”