And when at length the case was called
(It came on rather late),
Spectators really were appalled
To see their deadly hate.
One junior rose—with eyeballs tense,
And swollen frontal veins:
To all his powers of eloquence
He gave the fullest reins.
His argument was novel—for
A verdict he relied
On blackening the junior
Upon the other side.
“Oh,” said the Judge, in robe and fur,
“The matter in dispute
To arbitration pray refer—
This is a friendly suit.”
And Pythias, in merry mood,
Digged Damon in the side;
And Damon, tickled with the feud,
With other digs replied.
But oh! those deadly counsel twain,
Who were such friends before,
Were never reconciled again—
They quarrelled more and more.
At length it happened that they met
On Alpine heights one day,
And thus they paid each one his debt,
Their fury had its way—
They seized each other in a trice,
With scorn and hatred filled,
And, falling from a precipice,
They, both of them, were killed.
MY DREAM
The other night, from cares exempt,
I slept—and what d’you think I dreamt?
I dreamt that somehow I had come
To dwell in Topsy-Turveydom—