The Bellman himself they all praised to the
skies—
Such a carriage,
such ease and such grace!
Such solemnity, too! One could see he was
wise,
The moment one
looked in his face!
He had bought a large map representing the
sea,
Without the least
vestige of land:
And the crew were much pleased when they found it to
be
A map they could all
understand.
“What’s the good of Mercator’s North Poles and
Equators,
Tropics,
Zones, and Meridian Lines?”
So the Bellman would cry: and the crew
would reply
“They are
merely conventional signs!
“Other maps are such shapes, with their
islands and capes!
But
we’ve got our brave Captain to thank”
(So the crew would protest) “that
he’s bought us the
best—
A perfect and
absolute blank!”
This was charming, no doubt; but they shortly
found out
That the
Captain they trusted so well
Had only one notion for crossing the
ocean,
And that was to
tingle his bell.
He was thoughtful and grave—but the orders he
gave
Were enough to
bewilder a crew.
When he cried “Steer to starboard, but keep her head
larboard!”
What on
earth was the helmsman to do?
Then the bowsprit got mixed with the
rudder sometimes:
A
thing, as the Bellman remarked,
That frequently happens in tropical
climes,
When a vessel
is, so to speak, “snarked.”
But the principal failing occurred in
the sailing,
And the
Bellman, perplexed and distressed,
Said he had hoped, at least, when
the wind blew due
East,
That the ship
would not travel due West!
But the danger was past—they had landed
at last,
With their
boxes, portmanteaus, and bags:
Yet at first sight the crew were not
pleased with the
view,
Which consisted
of chasms and crags.
The Bellman perceived that their spirits were
low,
And repeated in
musical tone
Some jokes he had kept for a season of
woe—
But the crew would
do nothing but groan.
He served out some grog with a liberal
hand,
And bade them sit
down on the beach:
And they could not but own that their Captain looked
grand,
As he stood and
delivered his speech.
“Friends, Romans, and countrymen, lend me
your ears!”
(They were
all of them fond of quotations:
So they drank to his health, and they
gave him three
cheers,
While he served
out additional rations).
“We have sailed many months, we have
sailed many
weeks,
(Four weeks to
the month you may mark),
But never as yet (’tis your Captain who
speaks)
Have we caught
the least glimpse of a Snark!
“We have sailed many weeks, we have
sailed many
days,
(Seven days to
the week I allow),
But a Snark, on the which we might lovingly
gaze,
We have never
beheld till now!
“Come, listen, my men, while I tell you
again
The five
unmistakable marks
By which you may know, wheresoever you
go,
The warranted
genuine Snarks.
“Let us take them in order. The first is the
taste,
Which is meagre
and hollow, but crisp:
Like a coat that is rather too tight in the
waist,
With a flavour
of Will-o’-the-wisp.
“Its habit of getting up late you’ll
agree
That it carries
too far, when I say
That it frequently breakfasts at five-o’clock
tea,
And dines on the
following day.
“The third is its slowness in taking a
jest.
Should you happen
to venture on one,
It will sigh like a thing that is deeply
distressed:
And it
always looks grave at a pun.
“The fourth is its fondness for
bathing-machines,
Which
it constantly carries about,
And believes that they add to the beauty
of scenes—
A sentiment
open to doubt.
“The fifth is ambition. It next will be
right
To describe each
particular batch:
Distinguishing those that have feathers, and
bite,
And those that
have whiskers, and scratch.
“For, although common Snarks do no
manner of harm,
Yet, I
feel it my duty to say,
Some are Boojums—” The Bellman broke off in
alarm,
For the Baker
had fainted away. |
|
