AMONG the poets of the present day There is no one on earth who can possibly be able for to gainsay But that William M'Gonagall, poet and tragedian, Is truly the greatest poet that was ever found above or below the meridian. 'Twas in year '91, in the first month of spring, On a very cold night, and the frost in full swing, I met my friend Mactavish walking along the street, And he gave me your "Poetic Gems" for to read them as a treat. I took them home, and read them, and exclaimed, Eureka! Eureka! M'Gonagall I proclaim To have the deepest insight into human nature of any man I know, As the reading of his "Gems" doth most emphatically show. He reaches with poetic power the higher flights of song, And like the eagle near the clouds, he soars serene and strong; No common fowl is he, to roost on fence or crow about a barn, He warbles sweet his wood-notes wild, and tell no common "yarn." A better poet was never seen in the city of Dundee at any time, And never again shall be, as far as I can see in the meantime: His poem on the Tay Bridge is most beautiful to be read, As I found by reading it one cold night before I went to bed. Also his poem about the Emperor of Germany's funeral is the work of a master- mind, And rivals in merit the greatest plays that the "Bard of Avon" left behind, And it will be read when Milton's "Paradise Lost" is totally forgotten, And all other poetic gems save those of William M'Gonagall are rotten. But not till then will the world ever come to see The wealth and beauty of the "Poetic Gems" of M'Gonagall, poet and tragedian, of Dundee; And though his book can now be bought at the modest price of a shilling, You can never get anywhere, at any price, a product quite so thrilling. At the beginning of the volume is to be seen the classic head Of the greatest tragedian that ever the boards did tread, For to act the Thane of Fife, or discourse with spirits from beneath, And cry in tones of thunder: "Command! they stand upon the heath." Also his ode on the death of George Gilfillan Shows that he was a true gentleman and no villain; His poem on the funeral of the illustrious Prince Leopold Would almost make any one weep for to behold. Any one who would read his lines on Queen Victoria Would never again be troubled with melancholia, Because she has been a good Queen, and by no means bad, Which, if she were, would indeed be sad. And though she did not receive M'Gonagall at her castle of Balmoral The wreath that binds the poet's brow should be something more than floral,— A wreath that will flourish evergreen in all the coming time, When the name of the great M'Gonagall shall be known from clime to clime. They will one day yet rear him monuments of brass, and weep upon his grave, Though when he was living they would hardly have given him the price of a shave; But his peerless, priceless "Poetic Gems" will settle once for all The claim to immortality of William M'Gonagall. |