A Satire Anthology

A MATCH

IF I were Anglo-Saxon,And you were Japanese,We’d study storks together,Pluck out the peacock’s feather,And lean our languid backs onThe stiffest of settees —If I were Anglo-Saxon,And you were Japanese.If you were Della-Cruscan,And I were A. – Mooresque,We’d make our limbs look less inArtistic folds, and dress inWhat once were tunics TuscanIn Dante’s days grotesque —If you were Della-Cruscan,And I were A. – Mooresque.If I were mock Pompeian,And you Belgravian Greek,We’d glide ’mid gaping VandalsIn shapeless sheets and sandals,Like shades in TartareanDim ways remote and bleak —If I were mock Pompeian,And you Belgravian Greek.If you were Culture’s scarecrow,And I the guy of Art,I’d learn in latest phrasesOf either’s quaintest crazesTo lisp, and let my hair grow,While yours you’d cease to part —If you were Culture’s scarecrow,And I the guy of Art.If I’d a Botticelli,And you’d a new Burne-Jones,We’d dote for days and days onTheir mystic hues, and gaze onWith lowering looks that fellyWe’d fix upon their tones —If I’d a Botticelli,And you’d a new Burne-Jones.If you were skilled at crewels,And I a dab at rhymes,I’d write delirious “ballads,”While you your bilious saladsWere stitching upon two ellsOf coarsest crash, at times —If you were skilled at crewels,And I a dab at rhymes.If I were what’s “consummate,”And you were quite “too, too,”’Twould be our EldoradoTo have a yellow dado,Our happiness to hum atA teapot tinted blue —If I were what’s “consummate,”And you were quite “too, too.”If you were what “intense” is,And I were like “decay,”We’d mutely muse, or mutterIn terms distinctly utter,And find out what the sense isOf this æsthetic lay —If you were what “intense” is,And I were like “decay.”If you were wan, my lady,And I your lover weird,We’d sit and wink for hoursAt languid lily-flowers,Till, fain of all things fady,We faintly – disappeared —If you were wan, my lady,And I your lover weird.Punch.

WANTED – A GOVERNESS

A  GOVERNESS wanted – well fitted to fillThe post of tuition with competent skill —In a gentleman’s family highly genteel;Superior attainments are quite indispensable,With everything, too, that’s correct and ostensible;Morals of pure unexceptionability;Manners well formed, and of strictest gentility.The pupils are five – ages, six to sixteen,All as promising girls as ever were seen;And besides (though ’tis scarcely worth while to put that in),There is one little boy, but he only learns Latin.The lady must teach all the several branchesWhereinto polite education now launches.She’s expected to speak the French tongue like a native,And be to her pupils of all its points dative.Italian she must know à fond, nor need banishWhatever acquaintance she may have with Spanish;Nor would there be harm in a trifle of German,In the absence, that is, of the master, Von Hermann.The harp and piano —cela va sans dire—With thorough-bass, too, on the plan of Logier.In drawing in pencil, and chalks, and the tintingThat’s called Oriental, she must not be stint in;She must paint upon paper, and satin, and velvet;And if she knows gilding, she’s no need to shelve it.Dancing, of course, with the newest gambades,The Polish mazurka, and best gallopades;Arithmetic, history joined with chronology,Heraldry, botany, writing, conchology,Grammar, and satin stitch, netting, geography,Astronomy, use of the globes, and cosmography.’Twere also as well she should be calisthenical,That her charges’ young limbs may be pliant to any call.Their health, play, and studies, and moral conditionMust be superintended without intermission.At home she must all habits check that disparage,And when they go out must attend to their carriage.Her faith must be orthodox, temper most pliable,Health good, and reference quite undeniable.These are the principal matters —Au reste,Address, Bury Street, Mrs. General Peste.As the salary’s moderate, none need applyWho more on that point than on comfort rely.Anonymous.

LINES BY AN OLD FOGY

I’M thankful that the sun and moonAre both hung up so high,That no presumptuous hand can stretchAnd pull them from the sky.If they were not, I have no doubtBut some reforming assWould recommend to take them downAnd light the world with gas.Anonymous.

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Version of W. M. Thackeray.