write almost to the last. His poems are thoroughly well known wherever our language is spoken, and have obtained in this country a popularity second to that of no English writer. The Universities of Oxford and Cambridge both conferred degrees upon Mr. Longfellow, and he was also elected a member of the Russian Academy of Science, and of the Spanish Academy. The following are the poems which have been most frequently selected as the models for Parodies:-A Psalm of Life; Beware!; Evangeline; The Song of Hiawatha; The VillageBlacksmith; Excelsior; Curfew; The Bridge; and several parts of the Saga of King Olaf, A PSALM OF LIFE ASSURANCE. TELL me not in mournful numbers, Really, I am quite in earnest ! So would you be. Here's a goal! Thus my claim they'll fail in meeting, Trust the future? Come, that's pleasant! No, I'll make a row at present. On official toes I'll tread! And directors think to blind us! Nothing? Why, the thing's sublime! Let us, then, be up and doing, Never mind what be our fate, Each director still pursuing, Shouting out "Investigate!" From The Tomahawk, September 11, 1869. THE PSALM OF FICTION. Tell us not in mournful "numbers" Life is dark enough in earnest Without bringing in the gaol, Only readers of the sternest Like their heroines out on bail. Not to swindle, or to borrow Arson's wrong, and poisoning dreary. In the great domestic battle, Be not like those Mormon "Cattle," Wives and Daughters should remind you There are women without crime; Draw them and you'll leave behind you Fictions that may weather time. Fictions free from that Inspector, Who is sent by Richard Mayne, And finds footmarks that affect a Solemn butler in the lane. Let us, then, have no more trials, No more tampering with wills, Leave the poisons in the phials And the money in the tills. MISS M. TO MR. GREEN A Mournful Ditty. TELL me not that I am pretty- Yes; I know my hair is curly, Blacker than the blackest sloe; And I know that you'll be surly With the candour I thus show That my eyes with fire are glancing Yet I think that you're romancing THE MONTHLY PARODIES. AN APOLOGY. After William Morris's "Earthly Paradise." (Written expressly for this collection.) OF Love or War this is no hour to sing, But I may ease the burden of your fears But when a-weary of the hunt for mirth And grudge the pennies that they cost to buy The pomp and power and grand majestic air And by burlesque call back remembered Here grouped are strains of parody in rhyme, That some be old, while some are born but late, Folks say a wizard to a common King, One April-tide such wondrous jest did show That in a mirror men beheld each thing, Like, yet unlike, and saw the pale nose glow, While rosy face looked white as fallen snow, Each visage altered in such comic way, That those who came to court, remain'd to play. So with these many Parodies it is, If you will read aright and carefully, Not scathing satire, nor malicious hiss For lack of beauty in the themes to see, Nor jeerings coarse, at what men prize, as we But jest to make some little changeling play Its pranks in classic robes, all crowned with bay. J. W. GLEESON WHITE. Mr. J. Russell Lowell gave an aldress, in which he stated that "Longfellow's mind always moved straight towards its object, was always permeated with the emotions, and gave them the frankest, the sincerest, and, at the same time, the most simple expression, and never was there a private character more answerable to public performance than that of Longfellow. His nature was consecrated ground, into which no unclean spirit could ever enter." This tribute to his memory, paid by one who had known him for nearly forty years, sufficiently explains the reason why, in the parodies of his works which are now to be given, nothing of a personal nature will be inserted. Indeed, it is doubtful whether one unkindly worded, or spiteful burlesque was ever penned about either Longfellow, or his works. Hence the parodies will be found to consist principally of imitations of his style, language, or ideas, or of reproductions of his poems in a grotesque form. PARODIES OF THE PSALM OF LIFE. SCRIP. TELL me not in rippling numbers For the man is fleeced who blunders Scrip may ruin-scrip may make you, Not Imperials and not Centrals I have thrown my all away. Imperials low and fluctuating, In the market of shareholders, In that place of gins ar d snares, Bad scrip, which perhaps some greenhorn, Let us then, on chance relying, Buy when poor men have to sell; Sell when innocents are buying, And we shall do pretty well. A NOBLE AMBITION. TELL me not in mournful numbers, Meat is high in real good earnest, In the weekly market battle, For the cheapest things and best, Be not like dumb-driven cattle, Stand out bravely, all the rest. Not enjoyment, hardly sorrow, Feel we, when small debts we pay : Still, we know that each to-morrow Finds them larger than to-day. Duns are hard, and time is fleeting, Bills are sadly in arrears, And our hearts, tho' brave, stop beating Bailiffs are not very pleasant, Lock your door and keep the key ; Act, act in the living present— Leave your country, cross the sea. Lives of great men, too, remind us, Big debts sometimes clogged their feet; And, like them, we leave behind us Some few bills we cannot meet Bills that make you try to smother, Let us then be up and doing With an eye to making tin, Any likely trade pursuing, Learn to gain your end and win. From The Figaro. December 3, 1873. THE LIBERAL PSALM OF Life. TELL us not in mournful numbers Liberal union is a dream: Bright is cranky, Bob Lowe slumbers; Yet things are not what they seem. Opposition must be earnest, Or we shall not win the goal; Ministerial slips to follow Is our destined end and way, Trust no Forster, howe'er pleasant, Hansard's pages all remind us We have but to bide our time; Dizzy some fine day may find us In majority sublime. Gladstone's gone, but till another, Find a policy-and wait! From Funny Folks, February 27, 1875, when the Conservative party, led by Mr. Disraeli, was in power, and the Liberal Opposition was led by Lord Hartington. A PSALM OF LIFE AT SIXTY. What the Heart of the Old Man said to the Genial Gusher at TELL me not in Christmas Numbers Life is serious! Life is solemn ! Helps not the dyspeptic soul. Not delight from cates to borrow Feeds are long and health is fleeting; In the banquet's dainty battle. At the table's toothsome strife, Wield a cautious fork and knife! Memories of big feeds remind us Christmas pudding peace can slay; Pudding that perhaps another, Light of heart and bright of brain, Let us then beware high feeding, From Punch. December 27, 1879. LIVES of wealthy men remind us We can die and leave behind us |