Since first you crowned the rustic's vernal feast, O muse! with laughter and your comic art, And in the rural pastimes bore your part With broadest jest and mirth that aye increased, Your sway has traveled from the classic East To banter care and fill the throbbing mart Of tragic life with whims and quirks that start The pulse to thrill with joy where joy had ceased. Behold! To-day your crook and grinning mask Are greeted as if royal tokens sent To end the sordid soul's imprisonment And gild with wit the plodder's weary task; To make despair the laggard's scourge, at most, And fortune's fiercest fling a futile boast. |