| |
| THEY rous’d him with muffins—they rous’d him with ice— | |
| They rous’d him with mustard and cress— | |
| They rous’d him with jam and judicious advice— | |
| They set him conundrums to guess. | |
| |
| When at length he sat up and was able to speak, | 5 |
| His sad story he offer’d to tell; | |
| And the Bellman cried “Silence! Not even a shriek!” | |
| And excitedly tingled his bell. | |
| |
| There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream, | |
| Scarcely even a howl or a groan, | 10 |
| As the man they call’d “Ho!” told his story of woe | |
| In an antediluvian tone. | |
| |
| “My father and mother were honest, though poor—” | |
| “Skip all that!” cried the Bellman in haste. | |
| “If it once becomes dark, there ’s no chance of a Snark— | 15 |
| We have hardly a minute to waste!” | |
| |
| “I skip forty years,” said the Baker, in tears, | |
| “And proceed without further remark | |
| To the day when you took me aboard of your ship | |
| To help you in hunting the Snark. | 20 |
| |
| “A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was nam’d) | |
| Remark’d, when I bade him farewell—” | |
| “Oh, skip your dear uncle!” the Bellman exclaim’d, | |
| As he angrily tingled his bell. | |
| |
| “He remark’d to me then,” said that mildest of men, | 25 |
| “If your Snark be a Snark, that is right: | |
| Fetch it home by all means—you may serve it with greens, | |
| And it ’s handy for striking a light. | |
| |
| “‘You may seek it with thimbles—and seek it with care; | |
| You may hunt it with forks and hope; | 30 |
| You may threaten its life with a railwayshare; | |
| You may charm it with smiles and soap—’” | |
| |
| (“That ’s exactly the method,” the Bellman bold | |
| In a hasty parenthesis cried, | |
| “That ’s exactly the way I have always been told | 35 |
| That the capture of Snarks should be tried!”) | |
| |
| “‘But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day, | |
| If your Snark be a Boojum! For then | |
| You will softly and suddenly vanish away, | |
| And never be met with again!’ | 40 |
| |
| “It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul, | |
| When I think of my uncle’s last words: | |
| And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl | |
| Brimming over with quivering curds! | |
| |
| “It is this, it is this—” “We have had that before!” | 45 |
| The Bellman indignantly said. | |
| And the Baker replied, “Let me say it once more. | |
| It is this, it is this that I dread! | |
| |
| “I engage with the Snark—every night after dark— | |
| In a dreamy, delirious fight: | 50 |
| I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes, | |
| And I use it for striking a light: | |
| |
| “But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day, | |
| In a moment (of this I am sure), | |
| I shall softly and suddenly vanish away— | 55 |
| And the notion I cannot endure!” | |
| |
