Punch: Punch (56.1869)

108

PUNCH, OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[March 13, 186-9.

THE SIBYLLINE BOOKS.

Tarquinius the Tyrant,

In purple and in pall.

Sat in his chair of ivory
Before the Senate-hall,

Watching the busy toilers
That crowded Tiber’s strand,

Hewing beam, and squaring marble,
Tor the temple he had planned.

When sudden came a dark’ning
Of the bright sun in the sky,

And Tarquinius looked heavenward,
But nothing could he spy ;

No eagles on the left hand,

No eagles on the right;

Presaging good or evil,

By the manner of their flight.

But still the day grew darker,

Though no cloud was to be seen;

And there fell an awful shadow,

The King and folk between.

And it deepened to the blackness
Of a summer thunder-cloud.

That clove, and gave a passage
To a woman bent and bowed.

O’er a forehead, carved with wrinkles,
Tell a forelock thin and hoar.

And in her lean arms gathered
Nine rolls of books she bore.

And her robe against the darkness
Shone white, as she stood there,
Confronting, with no reverence.

The monarch in his chair.

She looked ; her glance took all things
Around, before, behind;

She spoke : her voice seemed distant.
Like a far-off ocean wind.

“ These nine books hold the wisdom
Of the Sibyl; I am she :

Trom Cumae I have journeyed,

By the sunny southern sea.

“All Apollo hath revealed me.

All the wisdom and the wit
That the sun-god’s love hath quickened.
In these nine books is writ.

Therein all public evils,

And therein all their cures ;

Which the State that heeds not, falleth,
And the State that heeds, endures.

“ These nine books, oh Tarquinius,
Shall unto thee be sold,

Tor a talent of white silver,

And a talent of red gold ;

But all the sand Pactolus
E’er swept down to the mam.

Were little to the value
Of what these books contain.”'

All scornful sat Tarquinius -
Tor the cloud had pass’d, away r
And his heart within was hardened.

And he said the Sibyl nay.

But scarce the word was spoken,

When the great cloud fell once more :
And the place where stood the Sibyl
Was empty as before.

Then Tarqtjinius felt a pricking
In his heart, and wished, within.

He had ta’en the woman’s proffer.

So those nine books to win.

And scarce the wish was shapen.

When again the crone was there.
White robed against the darkness.
Before the ivory chair.

“ Again, oh King, I am with thee,

Tor thy unbreathed wish I heard :
Without ears ’t.is mine to hear
What is spoken without word.

Again my books I offer,

But three no more are mine;

And the same price thou shalt pay me.

Tor the six as for the nine.”

Then scornful laughed Tarquinius,

And his heart was like a stone :

“To pay the price of nine for six,

Tor fool were to be known.”

Then again the woman vanished,

Like a cloud into the cloud.

And the King wished he had closed with her.
But spoke it not aloud.

When, lo, as on his wishing,

Stood the Sibyl at his knee.

“ Again my books I proffer :

But the six are fall’n to three.”

Again my books I offer,

And again their price I fix;

And the same price thou shalt pay me
Tor the three as for the six.”

Then Tarquinius was astonished,

And the Augurs’ counsel prayed :

And they said lie had done evil
That with evil would be paid :

Tor the Gods had brought him wisdom.

But their purpose he had crossed :

And now of that deep knowledge
Six books of nine were lost.

So the red gold and white silver
Were paid by tale and weight,

And the Sibyl’s books were garnered,

And guarded by the State.

Locked in the sacred Capitol,

Shut in a chest of stone,

And two seers to guard and search them.
And make their wisdom known !

Then let England think of Tauquin,

How the oftener he said nay,

Still the Sibyl’s books grew fewer,

And the same he had to pay,

Tor less knowledge of the evil,

And less knowledge of the cure,

By one of which States perish,

And by one of which, endure.

When Ireland’s cloud lay blackest,

And Pitt, our Sibyl, came
With a plan to pay the priesthood,

And spoil Sedition’s game,

His wisdom was rejected,

And the nine books came no more;

And the black cloud lay still blacker
Hound the Green Isle’s weeping shore.

Now Gladstone stands for Sibyl,

With six books instead of nine,

And offers a worse bargain
Than Pitt’s in ninety-nine.

And if we spurn this offer,

The six books will shrink to three.

And less profit we shall purchase,

And more the price will be !

A Nice Place.

Two remarkable paragraphs from Chicago—“ An average wedding
costs ten thousand dollars.” What is an average wedding ? But the
following is more startling—“ A Chicago judge reproved two police
officers, whereupon they assailed him on the bench and almost throttled
him to death.” Policemen “collaring” a judge must be a pleasant
sight for a prisoner, but scarcely edifying for the general public. If an
average wedding there costs ten thousand dollars, we wonder what is
the salary of an average judge, and if the above little case is an excep-
tional one, or only an average example of the playfulness of the Chicago
police.

AN UNNECESSARY OFFICE.

An easy life leads. Gullaway, ’tis sure,

Tor a Quack’s living is a sine-cure.

Rough’s Guide to the Turf.—The Police.