Classic Poem

I.

There is a king in Thule still,
A doughty champagne-lover;
And, when this king has drunk his fill,
His tearful eyes well over.

And sitting thus his knights among, —
The whole historic school's there, —
The king of Thule's heavy tongue
Will babble like a fool's there.

" The Grecian Alexander, when
His little band victorious
Had conquered all within his ken,
Became a drunkard glorious.

" But such a thirst his fighting wrought —
A thirst beyond your thinking —
That more he drank than mortal ought,
And died at last of drinking.

" A wiser man am I than he,
And have his scheme amended;
The drinking has come first with me:
I've started where he ended.

" More glory, being drunk, I'll win,
For, like a hero hurled,
I'll stagger on from inn to inn,
And conquer all the world. "

II.

He babbles in his drunken mirth,
This modern Alexander:
Expounds his plan whereby the earth
Shall hail him its commander: —

" Lothringia, and Alsatia, too,
Will yield, nor tax our prowess;
The horse must needs the mare pursue,
The calves are where the cow is.

" But I long for the better land, Champagne,
Where green the vines are growing
That blissfully illume the brain,
And set life's sweets a-flowing.

" 'Tis there I'll show my martial mood,
For we'll commence our task there.
With a popping of corks, the amber blood
Will foam in every flask there.

" There to the stars will mount my name,
And, since he's lost who tarries,
I'll follow up those deeds of fame,
And boldly march on Paris.

" And, having reached the Barrier wall,
I'll halt, nor enter straightway;
They charge no duty on wine at all
Before the Barrier gate-way.

III.

" My teacher, my Aristotle,
Was at first a priest, no more:
One of the Gallic colony;
And priestly bands he wore.

" Then later, as philosopher,
Extremes he reconciled;
And, of this system, I alas!
Was reared, the luckless child.

" I grew up neither fish nor flesh,
But something bred betwixt —
A jumble of the time's extremes,
Preposterously mixed.

" I am not bad, I am not good,
Am neither quick nor slow;
If I went forward yesterday,
To-day I'll backward go;

" An obscurantist full of light,
And neither mare nor horse,
Both Sophocles and Canute are
My inspiration's source.

" In Jesus Christ I put my trust,
To Bacchus closely cling,
Together the divine extremes
Contriving thus to bring. "