Sought out a cave in deep Tasmeer The poor old mooncalf of a man "Fudge!" said the stout Haroun-al-Rashed, "Come, Djaffer, my fat friend, the Bathos, Or Art of Sinking, is your forte. Confess it!" "I have risen at court," Replied the Grand, with pride and pathos. "Besides, you, see, I have a bill, (An eight-and-forty pounder) which I'm just now going to get cash-èd, With my jolly ugly hookah in my hand. And jobs increase on me, and will, In divers ways." Well, that is rich," Sneered stout Haroun. "Yes, Djaff, your joys I don't know any man who fobs The public revenues like you. In divers' ways? That's comic too; Yet you won't dive, you sire of slobs! Shame!" cried the stout Haroun-al-Rashed, With his jolly ugly hookah in his hand. "What name d'ye bear, young man ?"-"Bham-Bhooz-eel, ' Replied the stranger, with a bow That very nearly brought his brow Down to the level of his shoe's-heel, Because, as he remarked himself, A gentleman "salaamed" and "Pasha-éd," I guess you count me glossy green, A simpleton, a soap-soft sumph!— "Humph! You swindling scoundrel, what d'ye mean?" With his jolly ugly hookah in his hand. "Commander of the True Believers," Returned the youth, "I really think You must have taken too much drink. I am none of those profane deceivers Who trade upon the faith and fears And prayers and pockets of the crowd, With their jolly ugly hookahs in their hands. That is, if I may speak it loud, Your juggling Moollahs and Wezeers. So, don't begin to chide and chafe, Like some old fish-fag or dragoon. I tell you that your Mug is safe. Call in your Principal Buffoon!”. The Khalif blew a small bassoon. "Now!" said the stout Haroun-al-Raschèd, With his jolly ugly hookah in his hand. In trundled the Buffoon, Ghooz-Ghabbi. "Here!" cried the Khalif. "Now and here?" Ghooz-Ghabbi answered-" Those, I'm clear, Are Nowhere!" "Miserably shabby!" All wave-besprent and slime-besplash-èd. And that's a somewhat serious vow, You, therefore, must descend like lead Is to obey!" To hear So spake Al-Rashed, Ghooz-Ghabbi, while Haroun thus twaddled, Stood grinning like a cask of nails. "O, Prince!" he cried, " my stomach fails, My syntax halts, my brains are addled And if you please-I won't go down, I'd be so long a-getting dried!" "What, wretch !-you won't, d'ye tell me?" roared Shook, and he frowned a tempest-frown. "No! Go!"-the Khalif cried, "you grow Intolerably wearisome!" Ay," said Ghooz-Ghabbie, with his thumb Beside his nose, "it is No Go!" "Bah!" said the stout Haroun-al-Rashed, With his jolly ugly hookah in his hand. The Khalif now got in the tea-things, And hid a thimbleful of tea And bit of biscuit. "Bham," said he, "I love to watch those vapoury wreathings O'er yonder tea-urn, as they rise Like incense from some temple-shrine. Here, crownless and un-sabretach-èd, I dream of purer worlds and skies And soar from Earthly to Divine. Come improvise an Ode on Tea!" "Excuse me," said the youth; "'twould be Both ode-ious and tea-dious, Besides, I'm going to discuss A thimbleful myself. Let me Hear you sing rather." "Well, then, thus Che Khalif's Song. "Bak-ey-Boul the Hakem has completely smashed my Teapot. Hasn't even left entire the spout for me to sneak up. Woe to Man! Lalla-lalla-lalla, lalla-lá! His life is but a vast expanse of Tea-tray, Laila-lalla-lalla, lalla-lá ! Tea-plers are not tipplers; yet, Philosophy, thou preachest Lalla-lalla-lalla, lalla-lá! I had forty battered friends, whom I to that degree bored, Lalla-lalla-lalla, lalla-lá! O! the Arabian Nights when I could feast on Tea and Tea-cake, Friend Bham-Bhooz, you seem a quiz, and I, believe me, am one; And keep clear of Hell's decoys, among the which I rank wet "Bravo!" cried Bham. "You've got some brandy?" It came, with lots of sugarcandy, Of which the Khalif ate some lumps. "Now, Bham," quoth he, "shake off your gyves! With my jolly ugly hookah in my hand, If We, the King and Knave of Trumps, Don't get as blind as tinkers' wives! But come! About my Ruby Mug? "One only," answered Bham, "to-wit Across. D'ye tremble?"-" Not a bit!" With his jolly ugly hookah in his hand. "Then, slock your goggles !" quoth Bham-Bhooz-eel, I'll now go through the task with true zeal.” Its burden in the Khalif's phiz !- "Wretch!" roared Al-Rashed, gin-besplash-èd, "Wretch! what means this?" "It means, and is," "A nice be-ginning. Just survey Your frontispiece in yonder glass, Your long-lost Ruby Mug, you may Write me down a conspicuous ass. "Humph!" growled Haroun. "You've won the day—— With his jolly ugly hookah in his hand. "The joke," said Bham, "is worth a hogshead Of gin, I think, much more a jug." "Oh!" sighed Haroun, "my Mug! my Mug!— Of those old cut-throat Shahs of Djash-èd, To wed your daughter. Let me see her!"- "Ha! ha!" guffawed Haroun-al-Rashèd, MORAL OF THE PRECEDING ANECDOTE. What Though the fist of Destiny should fall upon your Mug, leer If the matter wore an ugly face before Blubbering will but make it (and yourself too) wear an uglier. fastness to gaze down upon her. Fytte One. "Caligine profonda Gia opprime i sensi miei, Del piu fatale orror Per sempre lo ti perdei." The dull wood-fire its flashes threw The dim and lofty walls around With gleaming trophies high were drest, Old England's arms, whose strength was tried And time-worn pictures hung on high, The morioned knight looked sternly down, seem with stead- Grimly they stood a-watching there, 1 |