THOU lignum-vitae Roscius, who Dost the old vagrant stage renew, Peerless, inimitable, Punchinello! The Queen of smiles is quite out-done By thee, all-glorious king of fun, Thou grinning, giggling, laugh-extorting fellow! At other times mine ear is wrung Whene'er I hear the trumpet's tongue, Waking associations melancholic; But that which heralds thee recalls All childhood's joys and festivals, And makes the heart rebound with freak and frolic. Ere of thy face I get a snatch, Oh! with what boyish glee I catch Thy twittering, cackling, bubbling, squeaking gibber -- Sweeter than syren voices -- fraught With richer merriment than aught That drops from witling mouths, though uttered glibber. What way was ever known before To keep the circle in a roar, Nor wound the feelings of a single hearer! Engrossing all the jibes and jokes, Unenvied by the duller folks, A harmless wit -- an unmalignant jeerer. The upturned eyes I love to trace Of wondering mortals, when their face Is all alive with an expectant gladness; To mark the flickering giggle first, The growing grin -- the sudden burst, And universal shout of merry madness. I love those sounds to analyse, From childhood's shrill ecstatic cries, To age's chuckle with its coughing after; To see the grave and the genteel Rein awhile the mirth they feel, Then loose their muscles, and let out the laughter. Sometimes I note a henpecked wight Enjoying thy marital might, To him a beatific @3beau ideal;@1 He counts each crack on Judy's pate, Then homeward creeps to cogitate The difference 'twixt dramatic wives and real. But, Punch, thou'rt ungallant and rude, In plying thy persuasive wood; Remember that thy cudgel's girth is fuller Than that compassionate, thumb-thick, Established wife-compelling stick, Made legal by the dictum of Judge Buller. When the officious doctor hies To cure thy spouse, there's no surprise; Thou should'st receive him with nose-tweaking grappling; Nor can we wonder that the mob @3Encores@1 each crack upon his nob, When thou art feeing him with oaken sapling. As for our common enemy, Old Nick, we all rejoice to see The @3coup de grace@1 that silences his wrangle; But, lo! Jack Ketch! -- ah, welladay! Dramatic justice claims its prey, And thou in hempen handkerchief must dangle. Now helpless hang those arms which once Rattled such music on the sconce; Hushed is that tongue which late out-jested Yorick; That hunch behind is shrugged no more, No longer heaves the paunch before, Which wagged with such a pleasantry plethorick. But Thespian deaths are transient woes, And still less durable are those Suffered by lignum-vitae malefactors; Thou wilt return alert, alive, And long, oh long mayest thou survive, First of head-breaking and side-splitting actors! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WINDING BANKS OF ERNE; OR, THE EMIGRANT'S ADIEU TO HIS BIRTHPLACE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM LIMERICK by OLIVER BROOK HERFORD AN HYMN TO THE EVENING by PHILLIS WHEATLEY VERSES FOR A GUEST ROOM by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AN ODE OF ANACREON by ANACREON |