Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/184

182 Of, who could readily, at sight, Strum a march upon the loud Theodolite.
 * He would diligently play
 * On the Zoetrope all day,

And blow the gay Pantechnicon all night.

One winter—I am shaky in my dates— Came two starving Tartar minstrels to his gates,
 * Oh, Allah be obeyed,
 * How infernally they played!

I remember that they called themselves the "Oüaits."

Oh! that day of sorrow, misery, and rage, I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age,
 * Photographically lined
 * On the tablet of my mind,

When a yesterday has faded from its page!

Alas! went and asked them in; Gave them beer, and eggs, and sweets, and scent, and tin.
 * And when (as snobs would say)
 * They "put it all away,"

He requested them to tune up and begin.

Though its icy horror chill you to the core, I will tell you what I never told before,
 * The consequences true
 * Of that awful interview,

For I listened at the keyhole in the door!