THE INCUBUS

Essence of boredom! stupefying Theme!

Whereon with eloquence less deep than full,

Still maundering on in slow continuous stream,

All can expatiate, and all be dull:

Bane of the mind and topic of debate

That drugs the reader to a restless doze,

Thou that with soul-annihilating weight

Crushest the Bard, and hypnotisest those

Who plod the placid path of plain pedestrian Prose:

Lo! when each morn I carefully peruse

( Seeking some subject for my painful pen )

The Times, the Standard, and the Daily News,

No other topic floats into my ken

Save this alone: or Dr. Clifford slates

Dogmas in general: or the dreadful ban

Of furious Bishops excommunicates

Such simple creeds as Birrell, hopeful man!

Thinks may perhaps appease th’ unwilling Anglican.

Lo! at Society’ s convivial board

( Whereat I do occasionally sit,

In hope to bear within my memory stored

Some echo thence of someone else’ s wit ),

Or e’ er the soup hath yielded to the fish,

A heavy dulness doth the banquet freeze:

Lucullus’ self would shun th’ untasted dish

When lovely woman whispers, “Tell me, please,

What are Denominational Facilities?”

From scenes like these my Muse would fain withdraw:

To Taff’ s still Valley be my footsteps led,

Where happy Unions’ neath the shield of Law

Heave bricks bisected at the Blackleg’ s head:

In those calm shades my desultory oat

Of Taxed Land Values shall contented trill,

Of Man ennobled by a Single Vote,—

In short, I’ ll sing of anything you will,

Except of thee alone, O Education Bill!