Ban and Arriere Ban: A Rally of Fugitive Rhymes
There are books, highly thought of, that nobody reads, There is Geusius’ dearly delectable tome Of the Cannibal—he on his neighbour who feeds— And in blood-red morocco ’tis bound, by Derome; There’s Montaigne here (a Foppens), there’s Roberts (on Flukes), There’s Elzevirs, Aldines, and Gryphius’ Books.

There’s Bunyan, there’s Walton, in early editions, There’s many a quarto uncommonly rare; p. 83There’s quaint old Quevedo adream with his visions, There’s Johnson the portly, and Burton the spare; There’s Boston of Ettrick, who preached of the ‘Crooks In the Lots’ of us mortals, who bargain for Books.

p. 83

There’s Ruskin to keep one exclaiming ‘What next?’ There’s Browning to puzzle, and Gilbert to chaff, And Marcus Aurelius to soothe one if vexed, And good Marcus Tvainus to lend you a laugh; There be capital tomes that are filled with fly-hooks, And I’ve frequently found them the best kind of Books.

Marcus Tvainus

p. 84THE SONNET

p. 84

Poet, beware! The sonnet’s primrose path Is all too tempting for thy feet to tread. Not on this journey shalt thou earn thy bread, Because the sated reader roars in wrath: ‘Little indeed to say the singer hath, And little sense in all that he hath said; Such rhymes are lightly writ but hardly read, And naught but stubble is his aftermath!’

Poet

Then shall he cast that bonny book of thine Where the extreme waste-paper basket gapes, There shall thy futile fancies peak and pine, With other minor poets, pallid shapes, Who come a long way short of the divine, Tormented souls of imitative apes.

p. 85THE TOURNAY OF THE HEROES

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Ho, warders, cry a tournay! ho, heralds, call the knights! What gallant lance for old Romance ’gainst modern fiction fights? The lists are set, the Knights are met, I ween, a dread array, St. Chad to shield, a stricken field shall we behold to-day! First to the Northern barriers pricks Roland of Roncesvaux, And by his side, in knightly pride, Wilfred of Ivanhoe, The Templar rideth by his rein, two gallant foes were they; And proud to see, le brave Bussy his colours doth display.

Ho


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