Now, father was a _smarter_ man, and yet he never won Such wealth and fame as Uncle Eph, "the deestrick"s favorite son"; He had "convictions" and he was not loath to speak his mind-- He went his way and said his say as he might be inclined; Yes, _he_ was brainy; yet his life was hardly a success-- He was too honest and too smart for this vain world, I guess!
At any rate, I wondered he was unsuccessful when My Uncle Eph, a duller man, was so revered of men!
When Uncle Eph was dying he called me to his bed, And in a tone of confidence inviolate he said: "Dear w.i.l.l.yum, ere I seek repose in yonder blissful sphere I fain would breathe a secret in your adolescent ear; Strive not to hew your way through life--it really doesn"t pay; Be sure the salve of flattery soaps all you do and say!
Herein the only royal road to fame and fortune lies; Put not your trust in vinegar--_mola.s.ses_ catches flies!"
THIRTY-NINE.
O hapless day! O wretched day!
I hoped you"d pa.s.s me by-- Alas, the years have sneaked away And all is changed but I!
Had I the power, I would remand You to a gloom condign, But here you"ve crept upon me and I--I am thirty-nine!
Now, were I thirty-five, I could a.s.sume a flippant guise, Or, were I forty years, I should Undoubtedly look wise; For forty years are said to bring Sedateness superfine, But thirty-nine don"t mean a thing-- _A bas_ with thirty-nine!
You healthy, hulking girls and boys-- What makes you grow so fast?
Oh, I"ll survive your l.u.s.ty noise-- I"m tough and bound to last!
No, no--I"m old and withered, too-- I feel my powers decline.
(Yet none believes this can be true Of one at thirty-nine.)
And you, dear girl with velvet eyes, I wonder what you mean Through all our keen anxieties By keeping sweet sixteen.
With your dear love to warm my heart, Wretch were I to repine-- I was but jesting at the start-- I"m glad I"m thirty-nine!
So, little children, roar and race As blithely as you can And, sweetheart, let your tender grace Exalt the Day and Man; For then these factors (I"ll engage) All subtly shall combine To make both juvenile and sage The one who"s thirty-nine!
Yes, after all, I"m free to say That I rejoice to be Standing as I do stand to-day "Twixt devil and deep sea; For, though my face be dark with care Or with a grimace shine, Each haply falls unto my share; Since I am thirty-nine!
"Tis pa.s.sing meet to make good cheer And lord it like a king, Since only once we catch the year That doesn"t mean a thing.
O happy day! O gracious day!
I pledge thee in this wine-- Come let us journey on our way A year, good Thirty-Nine!
HORACE I, 18.
O Varus mine Plant thou the vine Within this kindly soil of Tibur; Nor temporal woes Nor spiritual knows The man who"s a discreet imbiber.
For who doth croak Of being broke Or who of warfare, after drinking?
With bowl atween us, Of smiling Venus And Bacchus shall we sing, I"m thinking.
Of symptoms fell Which brawls impel Historic data give us warning; The wretch who fights When full of nights Is bound to have a head next morning.
I do not scorn A friendly horn, But noisy toots--I can"t abide "em!
Your howling bat Is stale and flat To one who knows, because he"s tried "em!
The secrets of The life of love (Companionship with girls and toddy) I would not drag With drunken brag Into the ken of everybody, But in the shade Let some coy maid With smilax wreathe my flagon"s nozzle-- Then, all day long, With mirth and song, Shall I enjoy a quiet sozzle!
THREE RHINELAND DRINKING SONGS.
I.
If our life is the life of a flower (And that"s what some sages are thinking), We should moisten the bud with a health-giving flood And "twill bloom all the sweeter-- Yes, life"s the completer For drinking, and drinking, and drinking!
If it be that our life is a journey (As many wise folks are opining), We should sprinkle the way with the rain while we may; Though dusty and dreary, "Tis made cool and cheery With wining, and wining, and wining!
If this life that we live be a dreaming (As pessimist people are thinking), To induce pleasant dreams there is nothing, me seems, Like this sweet prescription, That baffles description-- This drinking, and drinking, and drinking!
II.
("Fiducit.")
Three comrades on the German Rhine-- Defying care and weather-- Together quaffed the mellow wine And sung their songs together, What recked they of the griefs of life With wine and song to cheer them?
Though elsewhere trouble might be rife, It would not come anear them!
Anon one comrade pa.s.sed away, And presently another-- And yet unto the tryst each day Repaired the lonely brother, And still, as gayly as of old, That third one, hero-hearted, Filled to the brim each cup of gold And called to the departed:
"O comrades mine, I see you not, Nor hear your kindly greeting; Yet in this old familiar spot Be still our loving meeting!
Here have I filled each bouting cup With juices red and cherry-- I pray ye drink the portion up, And, as of old, make merry!"
And once before his tear-dimmed eyes, All in the haunted gloaming, He saw two ghostly figures rise And quaff the beakers foaming; He heard two spirit voices call: "Fiducit, jovial brother!"
And so forever from that hall Went they with one another.
III.
(Der Mann im Keller.)
How cool and fair this cellar where My throne a dusky cask is!
To do no thing but just to sing And drown the time my task is!
The cooper, he"s Resolved to please, And, answering to my winking, He fills me up Cup after cup For drinking, drinking, drinking.
Begrudge me not this cozy spot In which I am reclining-- Why, who would burst with envious thirst When he can live by wining?
A roseate hue seems to imbue The world on which I"m blinking; My fellow men--I love them when I"m drinking, drinking, drinking.
And yet, I think, the more I drink, It"s more and more I pine for-- Oh such as I (forever dry!) G.o.d made this land of Rhine for!
And there is bliss In knowing this, As to the floor I"m sinking; I"ve wronged no man, And never can, While drinking, drinking, drinking!
THE THREE TAILORS.