Classic Poem

Linati, that fine critic of Milan,
Surveying authors " americo-anglican",
Treats of Your's Truly in a sensible way.
A " poeta maladetto" of today
Am I: he notes the suppressive tendency,
As what outsider would not? " Anthology
Excludes him", I am even excluded too
From all official mention — all except Who's Who .
I am an " outcast" and a man " maudit".
But how romantic! Don't you envy me?
A sort of Villon, bar the gallows: but
Even there I may be accommodated yet.
Why yes it's very jolly to be picked
As the person not so much as to be kicked,
As the person who de facto is not there ,
As the person relegated to the dark back-stair.
" Outcast" is good, in a system of shark and gull,
Where all that's " illustrious" is also Untouchable!
A solitary honour. To be he
For whose benefit unmentionability
Has been invented, as a new order of the Dead
Who yet exist — an even forlorner head
Borne upon his trunk than the shorn skull
Of a monk vowed to his pastimes void and null.
Suffer embargo, live upon boycott, why
It's very jolly! But what's the wherefore, what the why?
So I get your meaning, but alas demur;
For, odd as it may seem, I'd much prefer
From time to time to earn a little cash —
The " necessary" to work, not cut a dash.

SCENE IV.

DIONE. PARTHENIA. LYCIDAS,

LYCIDAS.

Why stays Alexis ? can my bosom bear
Thus long alternate storms of hope and fear?
Yonder they walk; no frowns her brow disguise,
But love consenting sparkles in her eyes:
Here will I listen, here, impatient wait.
Spare me, Parthenia , and resign thy hate.

PARTHENIA.

When Lycidas shall to the Court repair,
Still let Alexis love his fleecy care;
Still let him chuse cool grots and sylvan bowers,
And let Parthenia share his peaceful hours.

LYCIDAS.

What do I hear? my friendship is betray'd;
The treach'rous rival has seduc'd the maid.

PARTHENIA.

With thee, where bearded goats descend the steep,
Or where, like winter's snow, the nibbling sheep
Cloath the slope hills; I'll pass the cheerful day,
And from thy reed my voice shall catch the lay.
But see, still Ev'ning spreads her dusky wings,
The flocks, slow-moving from the misty springs,
Now seek their fold. Come, shepherd, let's away,
To close the latest labours of the day.