Classic Poem

Dipsychus

A modern daub it was, perchance;
I know not; but I dare be sure
From Titian's hues no connoisseur
Had turned one condescending glance

Where Byron, somewhat drest-up, draws
His sword, impatient long, and speaks
Unto a tribe of motley Greeks
His pledge word unto their brave cause.

Not far, assumed to mystic bliss,
Behold the ecstatic Virgin rise!
Ah wherefore vainly to fond eyes
That melt to burning tears for this?

Yet if we must live, as would seem,
These peremptory heats to claim,—
Ah, not for profit, not for fame,
And not for pleasure's giddy dream,

And not for piping empty reeds,
And not for colouring idle dust,—
If live we positively must,
God's name be blest for noble deeds.
Verses! well, they are made, so let them go;
No more if I can help. This is one way
The procreant heat and fervour of our youth
Escapes, in puff, and smoke, and shapeless words
Of mere ejaculation, nothing worth,
Unless to make maturer years content
To slave in base compliance to the world.

I have scarce spoken yet to this strange follower
Whom I picked up—ye great gods, tell me where!
And when! for I remember such long years,
And yet he seems new come. I commune with myself;
He speaks, I hear him, and resume to myself;
Whate'er I think, he adds his comments to;
Which yet not interrupts me. Scarce I know
If ever once directly I addressed him.
Let me essay it now, for I have strength.
Yet what he wants, and what he fain would have,
O, I know all too surely; not in vain,
Although unnoticed, has he dogged my ear.
Come, we'll be definite, explicit, plain;
I can resist, I know; and 'twill be well
To have used for colloquy this manlier mood,
Which is to last, ye chances, say, how long?
How shall I call him? Mephistopheles?

Spirit

I come, I come.

Dipsychus

So quick, so eager; ha!
Like an eaves-dropping menial on my thought,
With something of an exultation too, methinks,
Out-peeping in that springy, jaunty gait.
I doubt about it. Shall I do it? Oh! oh!
Shame on me! come! Should I, my follower,
Should I conceive (not that at all I do,
'Tis curiosity that prompts my speech)—
But should I form, a thing to be supposed,
A wish to bargain for your merchandise,
Say what were your demands? what were your terms?
What should I do? what should I cease to do?
What incense on what altars must I burn?
And what abandon? what unlearn, or learn?
Religion goes, I take it.

Spirit

Oh,
You'll go to church of course, you know;
Or at the least will take a pew
To send your wife and servants to.
Trust me, I make a point of that;
No infidelity, that's flat.

Dipsychus

Religion is not in a pew, say some;
Cucullus, you hold, facit monachum.

Spirit

Why, as to feelings of devotion,—
I interdict all vague emotion;
But if you will, for once and all
Compound with ancient Juvenal,
Orandum est , one perfect prayer
For savoir-vivre, savoir-faire .
 Theology—don't recommend you,
Unless, turned lawyer, Heaven should send you
In your profession's way a case
Of Baptism and Prevenient Grace;
But that's not likely. I'm inclined,
All circumstances borne in mind,
To think (to keep you in due borders)
You'd better enter holy orders.

Dipsychus

On that, my friend, you'd better not insist.

Spirit

Well, well, 'tis but a good thing missed.
The item's optional, no doubt;
But how to get you bread without?
You'll marry; I shall find the lady.
Make your proposal, and be steady.

Dipsychus

Marry, ill spirit! and at your sole choice?

Spirit

De rigueur! can't give you a voice.
What matter? Oh, trust one who knows you,
You'll make an admirable sposo .
Un' bella donn' un' gran' riposo.
As said the soldier in our carriage,
Although he didn't mean in marriage.
As to the rest I shall not quarrel,
You being, as it seems, so moral.
Though, orders laid upon the shelf,
In merest justice to myself,
But that I hate the pro and con of it,
I should have made a sine-qua-non of it.
Come, my dear boy, I will not bind you,
But scruples must be cast behind you.
All mawkish talking I dislike,
But when the iron is hot, strike!
Good God! to think of youthful bliss
Restricted to a sneaking kiss.

Dipsychus

Enough. But action—look to that well, mind me;
See that some not unworthy work you find me;
If man I be, then give the man expression.

Spirit

Of course you'll enter a profession;
If not the Church, why then the Law.
By Jove, we'll teach you how to draw!
Once in the way that you should go,
You'll do your business well, I know.
Besides, the best of the concern is
I'm hand and glove with the attorneys.
With them and me to help, don't doubt
But in due season you'll come out;
Leave Kelly, Cockburn, in the lurch.
And yet, do think about the Church.
By all that's rich 'twould do me good
To fig you out in robe and hood.
Wouldn't I give up wine and wench,
To mount you fairly on the bench!

Dipsychus

'Tis well, ill spirit, I admire your wit;
As for your wisdom, I shall think of it.
And now farewell.