| SIR Orpheus, whom the poets have sung | |
| In every metre and every tongue, | |
| Was, you may remember, a famous musician,— | |
| At least for a youth in his pagan condition,— | |
| For historians tell he played on his shell | 5 |
| From morning till night, so remarkably well | |
| That his music created a regular spell | |
| On trees and stones in forest and dell! | |
| What sort of an instrument his could be | |
| Is really more than is known to me,— | 10 |
| For none of the books have told, d' ye see! | |
| It 's very certain those heathen "swells" | |
| Knew nothing at all of oyster-shells, | |
| And it 's clear Sir Orpheus never could own a | |
| Shell like those they make in Cremona; | 15 |
| But whatever it was, to "move the stones" | |
| It must have shelled out some powerful tones, | |
| And entitled the player to rank in my rhyme | |
| As the very Vieuxtemps of the very old time! | |
| |
| But alas for the joys of this mutable life! | 20 |
| Sir Orpheus lost his beautiful wife— | |
| Eurydice, who vanished one day | |
| From Earth, in a very unpleasant way! | |
| It chanced, as near as I can determine, | |
| Through one of those vertebrated vermin | 25 |
| That lie in the grass so prettily curled, | |
| Waiting to "snake" you out of the world! | |
| And the poets tell she went to—well— | |
| A place where Greeks and Romans dwell | |
| After they burst their mortal shell; | 30 |
| A region that in deepest shade is, | |
| And known by the classical name of Hades,— | |
| A different place from the terrible furnace | |
| Of Tartarus, down below Avernus. | |
| |
| Now, having a heart uncommonly stout, | 35 |
| Sir Orpheus did n't go whining about, | |
| Nor marry another, as you would, no doubt, | |
| But made up his mind to fiddle her out! | |
| But near the gate he had to wait, | |
| For there in state old Cerberus sate, | 40 |
| A three-headed dog, as cruel as Fate, | |
| Guarding the entrance early and late; | |
| A beast so sagacious, and very voracious, | |
| So uncommonly sharp and extremely rapacious, | |
| That it really may be doubted whether | 45 |
| He 'd have his match, should a common tether | |
| Unite three aldermen's heads together! | |
| |
| But Orpheus, not in the least afraid, | |
| Tuned up his shell, and quickly essayed | |
| What could be done with a serenade, | 50 |
| In short, so charming an air he played, | |
| He quite succeeded in overreaching | |
| The cunning cur, by musical teaching, | |
| And put him to sleep as fast as preaching! | |
| |
| And now our musical champion, Orpheus, | 55 |
| Having given the janitor over to Morpheus, | |
| Went groping around among the ladies | |
| Who throng the dismal halls of Hades, | |
| Calling aloud | |
| To the shady crowd, | 60 |
| In a voice as shrill as a martial fife, | |
| "O, tell me where in hell is my wife!" | |
| (A natural question, 't is very plain, | |
| Although it may sound a little profane.) | |
| "Eurydice! Eu-ryd-i-ce!" | 65 |
| He cried as loud as loud could be, | |
| (A singular sound, and funny withal, | |
| In a place where nobody rides at all!) | |
| "Eurydice!—Eurydice! | |
| O, come, my dear, along with me!" | 70 |
| And then he played so remarkably fine, | |
| That it really might be called divine,— | |
| For who can show, | |
| On earth or below, | |
| Such wonderful feats in the musical line? | 75 |
| |
| E'en Tantalus ceased from trying to sip | |
| The cup that flies from his arid lip; | |
| Ixion, too, the magic could feel, | |
| And, for a moment, blocked his wheel; | |
| Poor Sisyphus, doomed to tumble and toss | 80 |
| The notable stone that gathers no moss, | |
| Let go his burden, and turned to hear | |
| The charming sounds that ravished his ear; | |
| And even the Furies—those terrible shrews | |
| Whom no one before could ever amuse, | 85 |
| Those strong-bodied ladies with strong-minded views | |
| Whom even the Devil would doubtless refuse, | |
| Were his Majesty only permitted to choose, | |
| Each felt for a moment her nature desert her, | |
| And wept like a girl o'er the "Sorrows of Werther." | 90 |
| |
| And still Sir Orpheus chanted his song, | |
| Sweet and clear and strong and long, | |
| "Eurydice!—Eurydice!" | |
| He cried as loud as loud could be; | |
| And Echo, taking up the word, | 95 |
| Kept it up till the lady heard, | |
| And came with joy to meet her lord. | |
| And he led her along the infernal route, | |
| Until he had got her almost out, | |
| When, suddenly turning his head about, | 100 |
| (To take a peep at his wife, no doubt,) | |
| He gave a groan, | |
| For the lady was gone, | |
| And had left him standing there all alone! | |
| For by an oath the gods had bound | 105 |
| Sir Orpheus not to look around | |
| Till he was clear of the sacred ground, | |
| If he 'd have Eurydice safe and sound; | |
| For the moment he did an act so rash | |
| His wife would vanish as quick as a flash! | 110 |
| |
| MORAL | |
| Young women! beware, for goodness' sake, | |
| Of every sort of "sarpent snake"; | |
| Remember the rogue is apt to deceive, | |
| And played the deuce with grandmother Eve! | 115 |
| |
| Young men! it 's a critical thing to go | |
| Exactly right with a lady in tow; | |
| But when you are in the proper track, | |
| Just go ahead, and never look back! | |
