THE HOLY GRAIL AND OTHER POEMS.
(This is one of the other Poems.)
BY A HALF-RED DENIZEN OF THE WEST.
PART III.
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PELLEAS, when he left ETTARRE'S gate, Through all the lonely woods went groaning great; And there, while driv'ling round in doleful plight, He met monk PERCEVALE, reformed knight; A wise old fox. You'd never catch him in A tavern, Sundays, drinking milky gin! PELLEAS button-holed him, and said he, "As good as GUINEVERE I thought my she!" Then PERCEVALE, pure soul! did laugh serene. "My friend," said he, "you must be precious green. As good as our queen, you thought your she! I'll bet she's all of that, whoe'er she be." PELLEAS dropped his jaw and clenched his fist, Then through his white calcaveous teeth he hissed: "She'll die, she'll go to burning flame! She'll mix her ancient blood with shame! The wind is howling in turret and tree." "That's so," said PERCEVALE, "but you or I Can't help all that, you know. So friend, good bye." In darkest woods—down in a lonely dell, A peanut woman sat—her wares to sell. But brave PELLEAS, turning not aside, O'er that poor woman and her stall did ride. And as he wildly dashed along, pell-mell, To all the night-bugs thusly he did yell: Rosy is the West! Rosy is the South, Hard enough her cheek, False enough her mouth. When the happy Yes Comes from lips and eyes, Pass and blush the news That the lady lies. While thus PELLEAS kept his crazy course, And tried his best to founder his poor horse Out from the city came brave LANCELOT, His steed just on a comfortable trot. And as he rode thus gaily, all alone, He loudly sang, in his fine baritone, "There's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine. There's GALAHAD and ARTHUR; GERAINT and old MERLINE, But none so gay as LANCELOT, in all the land, they say; For I'm with the Queen all day, Mother! I'm with the Queen all day." But when PELLEAS, riding wild, he heard, To stop his song the thought to him occurred; And shouting loud, he cried, "Who's there? Hello! What now? Hold up! Look out! Hi-yi! Ho, Ho! Pull up, young man, and tell me who you be." PELLEAS stopped, and thus gave answer he: "I'm just exactly what my fancy suits; I'm FECHTER'S Hamlet, and I'm CLARKE'S De Boots; I'm Champagne CHARLEY, and I'm SUSAN ANTHONY, you know—or any other man." "If that's the case," said LANCELOT, "we'll fight." "Well," said PELLEAS, "that suits me, all right." Said LANCELOT, "As anxious you appear, Just make a ring out in this meadow here. I'm somewhat drowsy, and to sleep I'll go. Just wake me when you're ready, friend, and so, Comrade, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn. Leave ms here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle horn." PELLEAS now worked hard, marked out a ring, And made it smooth and nice as anything; He dug and sodded it, and after that He got a roller and he rolled it flat. When all was done, he blew a warlike catch, And LANCELOT skipped up, and toed the scratch. Down went their visors—each fell back a space, And on they came at a tremendous pace. They met! A crash! And LANCELOT, proud knight, He knocked PELLEAS higher than a kite! The mighty din of battle scarce did cease, When came old PERCEVALE, who yelled, "Police!" He might have yelled forever; they came not. The victor sneered, "My name is LANCELOT." Then said PELLEAS, "Well, suppose it be, It makes no earthly difference to me." As glum PELLEAS on the ground did sit, Said PERCEVALE, "Young man, git up and git!" Then cried the other, "Easy 'tis to talk— I'd like to know how ever I can walk. Broke, broke, broke! Are three of my bones, oh see! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me." Then PERCEVALE, he took him on his back, And in the Queen's wide hall, down dumped him,—smack! "Hello!" cried GUINEVERE, "here's been a fight! And I not there! Young man, it serves you right!" PELLEAS got upon his pins once more, And thus he sang, while hobbling to the door: "O ho! good Lady GUINEVERE From yon blue heavens above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile, though they never saved a cent. Remember that, and should you find Time on your hands too heavy go, Oh! teach the orphan girl to read, Oh! teach the orphan boy to sew!" (THE END.) |
