THOU lignum-vitae Roscius, who Dost the old vagrant stage renew, Peerless, inimitable, Punchinello! The Queen of smiles is quite out-done By thee, all-glorious king of fun, Thou grinning, giggling, laugh-extorting fellow! At other times mine ear is wrung Whene'er I hear the trumpet's tongue, Waking associations melancholic; But that which heralds thee recalls All childhood's joys and festivals, And makes the heart rebound with freak and frolic. Ere of thy face I get a snatch, Oh! with what boyish glee I catch Thy twittering, cackling, bubbling, squeaking gibber -- Sweeter than syren voices -- fraught With richer merriment than aught That drops from witling mouths, though uttered glibber. What way was ever known before To keep the circle in a roar, Nor wound the feelings of a single hearer! Engrossing all the jibes and jokes, Unenvied by the duller folks, A harmless wit -- an unmalignant jeerer. The upturned eyes I love to trace Of wondering mortals, when their face Is all alive with an expectant gladness; To mark the flickering giggle first, The growing grin -- the sudden burst, And universal shout of merry madness. I love those sounds to analyse, From childhood's shrill ecstatic cries, To age's chuckle with its coughing after; To see the grave and the genteel Rein awhile the mirth they feel, Then loose their muscles, and let out the laughter. Sometimes I note a henpecked wight Enjoying thy marital might, To him a beatific @3beau ideal;@1 He counts each crack on Judy's pate, Then homeward creeps to cogitate The difference 'twixt dramatic wives and real. But, Punch, thou'rt ungallant and rude, In plying thy persuasive wood; Remember that thy cudgel's girth is fuller Than that compassionate, thumb-thick, Established wife-compelling stick, Made legal by the dictum of Judge Buller. When the officious doctor hies To cure thy spouse, there's no surprise; Thou should'st receive him with nose-tweaking grappling; Nor can we wonder that the mob @3Encores@1 each crack upon his nob, When thou art feeing him with oaken sapling. As for our common enemy, Old Nick, we all rejoice to see The @3coup de grace@1 that silences his wrangle; But, lo! Jack Ketch! -- ah, welladay! Dramatic justice claims its prey, And thou in hempen handkerchief must dangle. Now helpless hang those arms which once Rattled such music on the sconce; Hushed is that tongue which late out-jested Yorick; That hunch behind is shrugged no more, No longer heaves the paunch before, Which wagged with such a pleasantry plethorick. But Thespian deaths are transient woes, And still less durable are those Suffered by lignum-vitae malefactors; Thou wilt return alert, alive, And long, oh long mayest thou survive, First of head-breaking and side-splitting actors! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOSS ROSE by FRIEDRICH ADOLF KRUMMACHER THE WAVING OF THE CORN by SIDNEY LANIER THE TWINS by HENRY SAMBROOKE LEIGH JEANIE MORRISON by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL SWEET MEETING OF DESIRES by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE OZYMANDIAS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY HE GIVES HIS BELOVED CERTAIN RHYMES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |