What! “Out of danger?”
Can the slighted Dame
Or canting Pharisee no more defame?
Will Treachery caress my hand no more,
Nor Hatred He alurk about my door?—
Ingratitude, with benefits dismissed,
Not close the loaded palm to make a fist?
Will Envy henceforth not retaliate
For virtues it were vain to emulate?
Will Ignorance my knowledge fail to scout,
Not understanding what ’tis all
about,
Yet feeling in its light so mean and small
That all his little soul is turned to
gall?
What! “Out of danger?”
Jealousy disarmed?
Greed from exaction magically charmed?
Ambition stayed from trampling whom it
meets,
Like horses fugitive in crowded streets?
The Bigot, with his candle, book and bell,
Tongue-tied, unlunged and paralyzed as
well?
The Critic righteously to justice haled,
His own ear to the post securely nailed—
What most he dreads unable to inflict,
And powerless to hawk the faults he’s
picked?
The liar choked upon his choicest lie,
And impotent alike to villify
Or flatter for the gold of thrifty men
Who hate his person but employ his pen—
Who love and loathe, respectively, the
dirt
Belonging to his character and shirt?
What! “Out of danger?”—Nature’s
minions all,
Like hounds returning to the huntsman’s
call,
Obedient to the unwelcome note
That stays them from the quarry’s
bursting throat?—
Famine and Pestilence and Earthquake dire,
Torrent and Tempest, Lightning, Frost
and Fire,
The soulless Tiger and the mindless Snake,
The noxious Insect from the stagnant lake
(Automaton malevolences wrought
Out of the substance of Creative Thought)—
These from their immemorial prey restrained,
Their fury baffled and their power chained?
I’m safe? Is that what the
physician said?
What! “Out of danger?”
Then, by Heaven, I’m dead!
AT THE CLOSE OF THE CANVASS.
’Twas a Venerable Person, whom I
met one Sunday morning,
All appareled as a prophet of a melancholy
sect;
And in a jeremaid of objurgatory warning
He lifted up his jodel to the following
effect:
O ye sanguinary statesmen, intermit your
verbal tussles
O ye editors and orators, consent to hear
my lay!
And a little while the digital and maxillary
muscles
And attend to what a Venerable Person
has to say.
Cease your writing, cease your shouting,
cease your wild unearthly lying;
Cease to bandy such expressions as are
never, never found
In the letter of a lover; cease “exposing”
and “replying”—
Let there be abated fury and a decrement
of sound.
For to-morrow will be Monday and the fifth
day of November—
Only day of opportunity before the final
rush.
Carpe diem! go conciliate each
person who’s a member
Of the other party—do
it while you can without a blush.