THE INCUBUS

Essence of boredom! stupefying Theme! Whereon with eloquence less deep than full, Still maundering on in slow continuous stream, All can expatiate, and all be dull: Bane of the mind and topic of debate That drugs the reader to a restless doze, Thou that with soul-annihilating weight Crushest the Bard, and hypnotisest those Who plod the placid path of plain pedestrian Prose:

Lo! when each morn I carefully peruse (Seeking some subject for my painful pen) The Times, the Standard, and the Daily News, No other topic floats into my ken Save this alone: or Dr. Clifford slates Dogmas in general: or the dreadful ban Of furious Bishops excommunicates Such simple creeds as Birrell, hopeful man! Thinks may perhaps appease th’ unwilling Anglican.

Lo! at Society’s convivial board (Whereat I do occasionally sit, In hope to bear within my memory stored Some echo thence of someone else’s wit), Or e’er the soup hath yielded to the fish, A heavy dulness doth the banquet freeze: Lucullus’ self would shun th’ untasted dish When lovely woman whispers, “Tell me, please, What are Denominational Facilities?”

From scenes like these my Muse would fain withdraw: To Taff’s still Valley be my footsteps led, Where happy Unions ’neath the shield of Law Heave bricks bisected at the Blackleg’s head: In those calm shades my desultory oat Of Taxed Land Values shall contented trill, Of Man ennobled by a Single Vote,— In short, I’ll sing of anything you will, Except of thee alone, O Education Bill!