Primula, from old Scotia sprung!
My chos'n successor, though so young!
"You, 'midst Olympian dust delight
To whirl the chariot's rapid flight.
I'll watch your glowing axles roll
Nicely around the close-grazed goal.
You hold the palm of wondrous worth
Which late I wore upon the earth:
The Commons, now, sole crown desire,
And to un-veto'd power aspire.
You'll have enough to rule the deep
And Gaul placate, and Libya keep.
I'm now a swain who loves his toil,
To tune his pipe, and tend his soil.
Not Asia's wealth tempts me to sail
O'er faction's deep, and brave the gale.
Some say, though now, in love with ease,
I shun the storms of party seas;
That soon I'll summon the old crew,
And rig our shattered bark anew.
Too much I love this ancient wine,
Pressed from the old Venusian's vine!
Lo my free limbs at leisure laid!
The old instruments that once I played,
The harp, the banjo, hung aloft!
Hibernian airs, though sweet and soft,
And Ethiopian minstrelsy,
No longer have much charm for me.
Now I prefer the Lydian lyre,
And of bland Horace never tire.
You youngsters like a martial life—
The trumpet-challenge and the strife;
With ardour seek the tented plain.
Your "gauntlet's down"! Good may you gain!
For me, another line I choose,
And, late in life, I court the Muse,
Unmindful of Bellona's charms,
And the old stir of War's alarm.
Ah! once in full tilt I had borne
Against Cæcilius full of scorn;
But Music now seems more divine!
With ivy-wreaths my temples shine.
Far from the world's tumultuous throng,
The nymphs seduce me with their song;
Here in cool grove I'm going to dwell.
Like Horace, with "the sounding shell."
I feel a wish—sweet leisure's fruit—
To tootle on Euterpe's lute;
With Polyhymnia I desire
To twangle on the Lesbian lyre.
If, late, to lyric fame I rise,
My brow indeed shall strike the skies."
There! What think you of that—for an impromptu?
Juvenis (rousing himself). Oh, excellent—most excellent! How do you do it? And now, my dear Gladstonius, with your kind permission, we will go——
Senex (promptly). To dinner! Exactly, my dear Primula.
Nunc is bibendum, nunc pede libero
Pulsanda tellus, nunc Saliaribus,
Ornare pulvinar deorum
Tempus erat, dapibus, sodales.
Come along, my boy!!!
[Skips away, followed slowly by his guest.
A POLITICAL CONFERENCE.