"THE LIGHT FANTASTIC!"

His task demands sinews and nerves As tough and as supple as hickory; He's done if he stumbles or swerves, This Titan-like pet of Terpsichore. What wonder he seems strung on wires From the tip of his trunk to his very toe, Performing a feat which requires The joint skill of Blondin and Cerito? Ah, Jumbo! stretch balance-wise tail-whisp and trunk, For you'll never get through if you fumble or funk. Scarce "light" is his ponderous form, And his footing is hardly "fantastic." It makes one grow nervous and warm To watch this colossus gymnastic. Can't "trip it,"—although he may trip,— His tentative toes throb and tremble; He waggles his tail like a whip: There's danger, but he must dissemble; And though he an imminent downfall may dread, Must walk o'er the bottles with confident tread. For Titan to dance on a tub As steady as—Cecil's majority, Is easy, but—oh! there's the rub— The bottle-trick has the priority. It comes first "by special request," And there isn't a chance of evasion. Poor Jumbo must fain do his best, Though he'd rather postpone the occasion. Titan-Turreydrop now on St. Stephen's new floor Can't choose his own figures or steps any more! There are plenty of "turns" he'd prefer, And numbers of tricks he'd do better. His "Gradation Dance" made a great stir. But, alas, for the goad and the fetter! As his enemies pipe he must dance, To public opinion he's plastic; And so, with a dubious glance, He essays this untried "Light Fantastic." From bottle to bottle slow picking his way, As an overture forced to the programme he'd play!