DARES AND ENTELLUS.
(New Non-Virgilian Version told by Punchius to the Shade of Sayerius in the Elysian Fields, With Intercalary Observations by the Illustrious ex-Pugilist.)
Mr. Punch. "What do you think of that, Tom?"
Shade of Sayers. "Think!" (Disgusted.) "Why, I think the sooner the P. R.'s put down, the better!"
Then bulky Dares in the ring appears,
Chucking his "castor" in 'midst husky cheers.
Dares, the so-called "Champion" of his land,
Who met the great Kilrainus hand to hand,
And at the Pelicanus strove—in vain—
The Ethiopian's onset to sustain.
Such Dares was, and such he strode along,
And drew hoarse homage from the howling throng.
His brawny breast and bulky arms he shows,}
His lifted fists around his head he throws, }
Huge caveats to the inadvertent nose. }
But Dares, who, although a sinewy brute,
Had not of late increased his old repute,
Looked scarce like one prepared for gain or loss,
And scornful of the surreptitious "cross;"
Rather the kind of cove who tackled fair
Would think more of the "corner" than "the square."
("Ah! bust him, yes!" Sayerius here put in,
"He meant to tie or wrangle, not to win.
I'd like to—well, all right, I will not say:
But 'twasn't so at Farnborough in my day.")
Next stout Entellus for the strife prepares,
Strips off his ulster, and his body bares,
Composed of mighty bone and brawn he stands.
A six-foot straight, "fine fellow of his hands."
Entellus, Champion of the Austral realm,
Whose sight fat Dares seemed to overwhelm.
("Yah!" cried Sayerius, "brave Heenanus stood
Well over me; yes, and his grit was good.
But did I funk the Big 'Un from the fust?
No, nor when nine times I had bit the dust!")
They both attentive stand with eyes intent,
Their arms well up, their bodies backward bent.
One on his clamorous "Corner" most relies;
The other on his sinews and his size.
Unequal in success, they ward, they strike,
Their styles are different, but their aims alike.
Big blows are dealt; stout Dares hops around,
His pulpy sides the rattling thumps resound.
("He always was a fleshy 'un, yer know,"
Said brave Sayerius. "But on yer go!")
Steady and straight Entellus stands his ground,
Although already rowdy rows abound.
His hand and watchful eyes keep even pace,
While Dares traverses and shifts his place,
And, like a cornered rat in a big pit,
Keeps off, and doesn't like the job a bit.
("No, that I'll bet!," the brave Sayerius said.
"Wish I'd been there to punch his bloomin' 'ed!")
More on his feet than fists the cur relies,
And on that crowded "Corner" keeps his eyes.
With straightening shots Entellus threats the foe,}
But Dares dodges the descending blow, }
And back into his Corner's prompt to go. }
Where bludgeon, knuckleduster, knotted sticks,
Foul sickening blows and cruel coward kicks
Are in his interest on Entellus rained
At every point that plucky boxer gained.
("Oh!" groaned Sayerius. "And this sort of thing
Wos let go on, with gents around the Ring!")
In vain Entellus gave sly Dares snuff;
Dares already felt he'd had enough;
But twenty ruffians, thralls of bets and "booze,"
Had sworn could he not win he should not lose.
Dares, you see, was "Champion" of his land,
And these were "Trojans all" you'll understand.
("Champion be blowed!" Sayerius said. "Wus luck,
They wasn't Trojans. This is British pluck!")
Then from the Corner fiendish howls arise,
And oaths and execrations rend the skies.
Entellus stoutly to the fight returned.
Kicked, punched and mauled, his eyes with fury burned,
Disdain and conscious courage fired his breast,
And with redoubled force his foe he pressed,
Laid on with either hand like anything,
And headlong drove his rival round the Ring;
Nor stops nor stays, nor rest, nor breath allows.
Thereon the Corner raised redoubled rows,
Yelled false alarms of "Rescue!" heaved half-bricks,
And murderous missiles and unmanly kicks
Poured on Entellus, whilst fat Dares slunk
Between his bullies, like a shabby skunk.
("Bah!" growled Sayerius. "Fancy Cribbs or Gullies
Backing down under guard of blackguard bullies!")
But now the Ref., who saw the row increase,
Declared a "draw," and bade the combat cease.
("A draw?" Sayerius shouted. "Wos he drunk?
Or had he, like the rest, a fit of funk?")
"This," Punchius said, "ended the precious game,
In which all, save Entellus, suffered shame.
Sayerius mine, I trust you take delight
In this description of a Champion Fight!"
"A Fight," Sayerius shouted. "Oh, get out!
It was a 'barney.' If this ruffian rout
Of cheats and 'bashers' now surround the Ring,
You'd better stop it as a shameful thing.
In Jackson's time, and even in my day,
It did want courage, and did mean fair play—
Most times, at least. But don't mix up this muck
With tales of rough-and-tumble British pluck.
I'd like to shake Entellus by the hand,
And give that Dares—wot he'd understand
Better, you bet, than being fair or "game,"
Or trying to keep up the Old Country's name!
But anyhow, if Boxing's sunk so low
As this, why, hang it, Punchius, let it go!"
Said Punch, as from the Elysian Fields he strode,
"If you're not right, Sayerius mine, I'm blowed!"
