hough it be,
They _never_ hold his obsequies
Till Sunday after three.

'And thus it fares through their delay,
That I may not begin
To dig the grave till Saturday,--
On Sunday fill it in.

'My Sabbath ease is broken through,
My Saturdays destroyed;
Many employ me; _very few
Have left me unemployed_!'

Again did Adam murmur 'Drat!'
And smote the old-churchyard,
And said, as on his hands he spat,
'It's werry, werry hard!'

And as I rose, the path to take
That led me home again,
My head was in my wideawake,
His words were in my brain.

ELEGY ON A RHINOCEROS

RECENTLY DECEASED

Come, let us weep for Begum; he is dead.
Dead; and afar, where Thamis' waters lave
The busy marge, he lies unvisited,
Unsung; above no cypress branches wave,
Nor tributary blossoms fringe his grave;
Only would these poor numbers advertise
His copious charms, and mourn for his demise.

Blithesome was he and beautiful; the Zoo
Hath nought to match with Begum. He was one
Of infinite humour; well indeed he knew
To catch with mobile lips th' impetuous bun
Tossed him-ward by some sire-encouraged son,
Half-fearful, yet of pride fulfilled to note
The dough, swift-homing down th' exultant throat.

Whilom he pensive stood, infoliate
Of comfortable mud, and idly stirred
His tiny caudal, disproportionate
But not ungraceful, while a wanton herd
Of revellers the mystic lens preferred;
Whereof the focus rightly they addrest;
And, Phoebus being kind, the button prest.

Then, being frolic, he, as one distraught,
Would blindly, stumbling, seek the watery verge
And sink, nor rise again. But when, untaught
In craft, the mourners raised the untimely dirge,
Lo! otherwhere himself would swift emerge
Incontinent, and crisp his tasselled ears;
And, all vivacious, own the sounding cheers.

Nothing of dark suspicion nor of guile
Was limned on Begum; his the mirthful glance,
The genial port, the comprehensive smile:--
The very sunbeams shimmering loved to dance
Within that honest, open countenance;--
And far as eye could pierce, his roomy grin
Was pink, as 'twere Aurora dwelt therein.

Yet he is dead! Whether the froward cates
Some lawless lodgment found,