Page:The Bothie of Toper-na-fuosich - Clough (1848).pdf/12

 Venting the murderous spleen of the endless Railway Committee. Hither the Marquis of Ayr, and Dalgarnish Earl and Croupier, And at their side, amid murmurs of welcome, long-looked for, himself too Eager, the gray, but boy-hearted Sir Hector, the Chief and the Chairman.
 * Then was the dinner served, and the Minister asked a blessing,

And to the viands before them with knife and with fork they beset them; Venison, the red and the roe, with mutton; and grouse succeeding; Such was the feast, with whiskey of course, and at top and bottom Small decanters of Sherry, not overchoice, for the gentry. So to the viands before them with laughter and chat they beset them. And, when on flesh and on fowl had appetite duly been sated, Up rose the Catholic Priest and returned God thanks for the dinner. Then on all tables were set black bottles of well-mixed toddy, And, with the bottles and glasses before them, they sat digesting, Talking, enjoying, but chiefly awaiting the toasts and speeches.


 * Spare me, O mighty Remembrance! for words to the task were unequal,

Spare me, O mistress of Song! nor bid me recount minutely All that was said and done o'er the well-mixed tempting toddy, Bid me not show in detail, grimace and gesture painting, How were healths proposed and drunk with all the honours, Glasses and bonnets waving, and three-times-three thrice over, Queen, and Prince, and Army, and Landlords all, and Keepers; Bid me not, grammar defying, repeat from grammar-defiers Long constructions strange and plusquam-thucydidëan, Tell, how as sudden torrent in time of speat in the mountain Hurries six ways at once, and takes at last to the roughest, Or as the practised rider at Astley's or Franconi's Skilfully, boldly bestrides many steeds at once in the gallop, Crossing from this to that, with one leg here, one yonder, So, less skilful, but equally bold, and wild as the torrent, All through sentences six at a time, unsuspecting of syntax, Hurried the lively good-will and garrulous tale of Sir Hector. Left to oblivion be it, the memory, faithful as ever, How the noble Croupier would wind up his word with a whistle, How the Marquis of Ayr, with quaint gesticulation, Floundering on through game and mess-room recollections, Gossip of neighbouring forest, praise of targeted gillies,