TELEMACHUS VERSUS MENTOR

Do n't mind me, I beg you, old fellow,— I'll do very well here alone;

You must not be kept from your “German” because I've dropped in like a stone.

Leave all ceremony behind you, leave all thought of aught but yourself;

And leave, if you like, the Madeira, and a dozen cigars on the shelf.

He's off! There's his foot on the staircase. By Jove, what a bound! Really now

Did I ever leap like this springald, with Love's chaplet green on my brow?

Was I such an ass? No, I fancy. Indeed, I remember quite plain

A gravity mixed with my transports, a cheerfulness softened my pain.

He's gone! There's the slam of his cab door, there's the clatter of hoofs and the wheels;

And while he the light toe is tripping, in this armchair I'll tilt up my heels.

He's gone, and for what? For a tremor from a waist like a teetotum spun;

For a rosebud that's crumpled by many before it is gathered by one.

Poor boy! shall I shock his conceit? When he talks of her cheek's loveliness,

Shall I say‘ twas the air of the room, and was due to carbonic excess?

That when waltzing she drooped on his breast, and the veins of her eyelids grew dim,

‘ Twas oxygen's absence she felt, but never the presence of him?

Shall I tell him first love is a fraud, a weakling that's strangled in birth,

Recalled with perfunctory tears, but lost in unsanctified mirth?

Or shall I go bid him believe in all womankind's charm, and forget

In the light ringing laugh of the world the rattlesnake's gay castanet?

Shall I tear out a leaf from my heart, from that book that forever is shut

On the past? Shall I speak of my first love — Augusta — my Lalage? But

I forget. Was it really Augusta? No.‘ Twas Lucy! No. Mary! No. Di!

Never mind! they were all first and faithless, and yet — I've forgotten just why.

No, no! Let him dream on and ever. Alas! he will waken too soon;

And it does n't look well for October to always be preaching at June.

Poor boy! All his fond foolish trophies pinned yonder — a bow from HER hair,

A few billets-doux, invitations, and — what's this? My name, I declare!

Humph! “You'll come, for I've got you a prize, with beauty and money no end:

You know her, I think;‘ twas on dit she once was engaged to your friend;

But she says that's all over.” Ah, is it? Sweet Ethel! incomparable maid!

Or — what if the thing were a trick?— this letter so freely displayed!—

My opportune presence! No! nonsense! Will nobody answer the bell?

Call a cab! Half past ten. Not too late yet. Oh, Ethel! Why do n't you go? Well?

“Master said you would wait” — Hang your master! “Have I ever a message to send?”

Yes, tell him I've gone to the German to dance with the friend of his friend.