Punch (30.1856)

January 12, 1856.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

THE SONG OF HIAWATHA.
{Author's Protective Edition.)
lou, who hold in grace and honour,
Hold, as one who did you kindness
When he publish'd former poems,
Sang Evangeline the noble,
Sang the golden Golden Legend,
Sang the songs the Voices utter
Crying in the Night and darkness.
Sang how unto the Red Planet
Mars, he gave the Night's First Watches,
Henry Wadsworth, whose adnomen
(Coming awkward, for the accents,
into this his latest rhythm)
Write we as Protracted Fellow,
Or in Latin, Longns Comes,—
Buy the Song of Hiawatha.
Should you ask me, Is the poem
Worthy of its predecessors,
Worthy of the sweet conceptions,
Of the manly, nervous diction,
Of the phrase, concise or pliant,
Of the songs that sped the pulses,
Of the songs that gemm'd the eyelash,
Of the other works of Henry ?
I should answer, I should tell you,
You may wish that you may get it—
Don't you wish that you may get it ?
Should you ask me, Is it worthless,
Is it bosh and is it bunkum,
Merely facile flowing nonsense,
Easy to a practised rhythmist,
Fit to charm a private circle,
But not worth the print and paper
David Bogtje hath here expended ?
[ should answer, 1 should tell you,
You're a fool and most presumptuous.
Hath not Henry Wadsworth writ it ?
Hath not Punch commanded " Buy it ? "
Should you ask me, What's its nature ?
Ask me, What's the kind of poem?
Ask me in respectful language,
Touching your respectful beaver,
Kicking back your manly hind-leg,
Like to one who sees his betters ;
I should answer, I should tell you,
'Tis a poem in this metre,
And embalming the traditions,
Fables, rites, and superstitions.
Legends, charms, and ceremonials
Of the various tribes of Indians,
From the land of the Ojibways,
From the land of the Dacotahs,
From the mountains, moors, and fenlands,
Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gar,
Finds its sugar in the rushes :
From the fast-decaying nations,
Which our gentle Uncle Samuel
Is improving, very smartly,
From the face of all creation,
Off the face of all creation.
Should you ask me, By what story,
By what action, plot, or fiction,
All these matters are connected ?
I should answer, I should tell you,
Go to Bogtje and buy the poem,
Publish'd, neatly, at one shilling,
Publish'd, sweetly, at five shillings.
Should you ask me, Is there music
In the structure of the verses,
In the names and in the phrases ?
Pleading, that, like weaver Bottom,
5fou prefer your ears well tickled ;
I should answer, I should tell you,
Henry's verse is very charming:
And for names, there's Hiawatha,
Who's the hero of the poem,
Mudjeekeewis, that's the WesJ Wind,

Hiawatha's graceless father,
There's Nokomis, there's Wenonah,
Ladies both, of various merit,
Puggawangun, that's a war-club,
Pau-puk-keewis, he's a dandy
" Barr'd with streaks of red and yellow,
And the women and the maidens
Love the handsome Pau-puk-keewis,"
Tracing in him Punch's likeness.
Then there's lovely Minnehaha,—
Pretty name with pretty meaning,
It implies the Laughing-Water,—
And the darling Minnehaha
Married noble Hiawatha;
And her story's far too touching
To be sport for you, you donkey,
With your ears like weaver Bottom's,
Ears like booby Bully Bottom.
Once upon a time in London,
In the days of the Lyceum,
Ages ere keen Arnold let it
To the dreadful Northern Wizard,
Ages ere the buoyant Mathews
Tripp'd upon its boards in briskness,—
I remember, I remember
How a scribe, with pen chivalrous,
Tried to save these Indian stories
From the fate of chill oblivion.
Out came sundry comic Indians
Of the tribe of Kut-an-hack-um.
With their Chief, the clean Efmatthews,


With the growling Downy Beaver,
With the valiant Monkey's Uncle,
Came the gracious Mari-Kee-lee,
Firing off a pocket-pistol,
Singing too, that Mudjee-keewis
(Shorten'd in the song to " Wild Wind "),
Was a spirit very kindly.
Came her Sire, the joyous Kee-lee,
By the waning tribe adopted,
Named the Buffalo, and wedded
To the fairest of the maidens,
But repented of his bargain,
And his brother Kut-an-hack-ums
Very nearly chopp'd his toes off.
Serve him right, the fickle Kee-lee.
If you ask me, What this memory
Hath to do with Hiawatha,
And the poem which I speak of?
I should answer, I should tell you,
You 're a fool, and most presumptuous ;
'Tis not for such humble cattle
To inquire what links and unions
j Join the thoughts, and mystic meanings,
Of their betters, mighty poets,
Mighty writers—Punch the mightiest.

I should answer, I should tell you,
Shut your mouth, and go to David,
David, Mr. PuncKs neighbour,
Buy the Song of Hiawatha,
Read, and learn, and then be thankful
Unto Punch and Henry Wadsworth,
Punch, and noble Henry Wadsworth,
Truer poet, better fellow,
Than to be annoy'd at jesting
From his friend, great Punch, who loves him.

TORYISM IN THE WASHING-TUB.
Among the wants of the other day, as adver-
tised in the Times, we met with an intimation
that one H. F., of Wandsworth, requires a
Mangle. There is nothing very remarkable in
this yearning for an article of much utility on
the part of one who may be desirous of making
things as smooth as possible; but we confess
we were rather struck by the intimation that
"no new inventions are desired." Why an
individual should want a mangle, and yet set his
face obstinately against any improvement in
mangles, is a problem we cannot solve; and
when we reflect that in these days of progress
mangles are particularly likely to take a turn,
we rind the objection to new inventions still
more unaccountable. We presume that the
advertisement proceeds from some old Tory
laundress who lags in the rear of everything like
reform, and who in her choice of a mangle
would hang on to the old rope rather than adopt
the patent chain and the wheels which certainly
has a tendency to revolution. It is, however,
a pretty good sign of the times when the fear of
innovation has sunk as low down in the social
scale as the suburban washerwoman, who is
perhaps as adverse to improvement in her |
orthography as in the implements of her trade,
and who probably intimates by the words
" Mangelin Dun " her readiness to serve her
customers.

COMMON THINGS.
It is a common thing for the conductor ol .\
Brompton omnibus to propose to put you
down within "a heasy valk" of Brixton.
It is a common thing for awife whose hus-
band comes home late from a dinner-party to be
told, " Myd-ear I shureyou porrionour I
shefirstogerriway."
It is a common thing for men who lt won't
detain you a minute" to hold you by the
button-hole for more than an hour.
It is a common thing for an undergraduate
to discover after a wine-party that he has
taken too much coffee.
It is a common thing upon one's entrance
into wha-t are advertised as " quiet lodgings,"
to find them tenanted already by a troop
of squalling children and an amateur cornopean.

What Shall we Have for Dinner ?
In answer to the above question, a Railway
Porter says: " It depends a great deal upon
what you can conveniently get out of the
hampers, and also what particular game and
fish happen to be in season. For instance, at
this time of the year, (he modestly observes)
a turbot, a few smelts, a small leg of Dartmoor
mutton, a partridge, and a couple of teal, with
a pine-apple, make a nice little dinner, that a
Railway Director need not be ashamed of."

real benefactors of the church.
Puseyites, Newmanites, Liddeliites, Oxford
Tractatians, and all other Papists in disguise,
who leave the Church, and carry themselves
and their Roman doctrines over to Rome as
soon as possible.