Franklin Hyde

By Belloc, Hillaire

Book Id: WPLBN0000706884
Format Type: PDF eBook
File Size: 138,428 KB.
Reproduction Date: 2007

Title:	Franklin Hyde
Author:	Belloc, Hillaire
Volume:
Language:	English
Subject:	Fiction, Poetry, Verse drama
Collections:	Poetry Collection
Historic Publication Date:
Publisher:	World Public Library Association


Citation APA MLA Chicago Belloc, H. (n.d.). Franklin Hyde. Retrieved from http://gutenberg.us/

Description
Poetry

Excerpt
Excerpt: Who caroused in the Dirt and was corrected by His Uncle. // HIS Uncle came upon Franklin Hyde // Carousing in the Dirt. // He Shook him hard from Side to Side // And Hit him till it Hurt, // Exclaiming, with a Final Thud, // Take that! Abandoned boy! // For Playing with Disgusting Mud // As though it were a Toy! // Moral: // From Franklin Hyde's adventure, learn // To pass your Leisure Time // In Cleanly Merriment, and turn // From Mud and Ooze and Slime // And every form of Nastiness- // But, on the other Hand, // Children in ordinary Dress // May always play with Sand. // Hillaire Belloc // Godolphin Horne // Who was cursed with the Sin of Pride, and Became a Boot-Black. // GODOLPHIN Horne was Nobly Born; // He held the Human Race in Scorn, // And lived with all his Sisters where // His father lived, in Berkeley Square. // And oh! The Lad was Deathly Proud! // He never shook your Hand or Bowed, // But merely smirked and nodded thus: // How perfectly ridiculous! // Alas! That such Affected Tricks // Should flourish in a Child of Six! // (For such was Young Godolphin's age). // Just then, the Court required a Page, // Whereat the Lord High Chamberlain // (The Kindest and the Best of Men), // He went good-naturedly and took // A perfectly enormous Book // Called People Qualified to Be // Attendant on His Majesty, // And murmured, as he scanned the list // (To see that no one should be missed), // There's William Coutts has got the Flu, // And Billy Higgs would never do, // And Guy de Vere is far too young, // And ... wasn't D'Alton's father hung? // And as for Alexander Byng!-... // I think I know the kind of thing, // A Churchman, cleanly, nobly born, // Come, let us say Godolphin Horne? // But hardly had he said the word // When Murmurs of Dissent were heard. // The King of Iceland's Eldest Son // Said, Thank you! I am taking none! // The Aged Duchess of Athlone // Remarked, in her sub-acid tone, // I doubt if He is what we need! // With which the Bishops all agreed; // And even Lady Mary Flood // (So kind, and oh! So really good) // Said, No! He wouldn't do at all, // He'd make us feel a lot too small. // The Chamberlain said, Well, well, well! // No doubt you're right. One cannot tell! // He took his Gold and Diamond Pen // And scratched Godolphin out again. // So now Godolphin is the Boy // Who Blacks the Boots at the Savoy. // Hillaire Belloc // Algernon // Who played with a Loaded Gun, and, on missing his Sister was reprimanded by his Father // YOUNG Algernon, the Doctor's Son, // Was playing with a Loaded Gun. // He pointed it towards his Sister, // Aimed very carefully, but // Missed her! // His Father, who was standing near, // The Loud Explosion chanced to Hear, // And reprimanded Algernon // For playing with a Loaded Gun. // Hillaire Belloc // Hildebrand // Who was frightened by a Passing Motor, and was brought to Reason // Oh murder! What was that, Papa! // My child, It was a Motor-Car, // 2 // A most Ingenious Toy! // Designed to Captivate and Charm // Much rather than to rouse Alarm // In any English Boy. // What would your Great Grandfather who // Was Aide-de-Camp to General Brue, // And lost a leg at Waterloo, // And Quatre-Bras and Ligny too! // And died at Trafalgar!- // What would he have remarked to hear // His Young Descendant shriek with fear, // Because he happened to be near // A Harmless Motor-Car! // But do not fret about it! Come! // We'll off to Town // And purchase some! // Hillaire Belloc // George // Who played with a Dangerous Toy, and suffered a Catastrophe of considerable Dimensions // WHEN George's Grandmamma was told // That George had been as good as gold, // She promised in the afternoon // To buy him an Immense BALLOON. // And so she did; but when it came, // It got into the candle flame, // And being of a dangerous sort // Exploded with a loud report! // The lights went out! The windows broke! // The room was filled with reeking smoke. // And in the darkness shrieks and yells // Were mingled with electric bells, // And falling masonry and groans, // And crunching, as of broken bones, // And dreadful shrieks, when, worst of all, // The house itself began to fall! // It tottered, shuddering to and fro, // Then crashed into the street below- // Which happened to be Savile Row. // When help arrived, among the dead // Were Cousin Mary, Little Fred, // The Footmen (both of them), the Groom, // The man that cleaned the Billiard-Room, // The Chaplain, and the Still-Room Maid. // And I am dreadfully afraid // That Monsieur Champignon, the Chef, // Will now be permanently deaf- // And both his aides are much the same; // While George, who was in part to blame, // Received, you will regret to hear, // 3 // A nasty lump behind the ear. // Moral: // The moral is that little boys // Should not be given dangerous toys. // Hillaire Belloc // Lord Lundy // Who was too Freely Moved to Tears, and thereby ruined his Political Career // Lord Lundy from his earliest years // Was far too freely moved to Tears. // For instance if his Mother said, // Lundy! It's time to go to Bed! // He bellowed like a Little Turk. // Or if his father Lord Dunquerque // Said Hi! in a Commanding Tone, // Hi, Lundy! Leave the Cat alone! // Lord Lundy, letting go its tail, // Would raise so terrible a wail // As moved His Grandpapa the Duke // To utter the severe rebuke: // When I, Sir! was a little Boy, // An Animal was not a Toy! // His father's Elder Sister, who // Was married to a Parvenoo, // Confided to Her Husband, Drat! // The Miserable, Peevish Brat! // Why don't they drown the Little Beast? // Suggestions which, to say the least, // Are not what we expect to hear // From Daughters of an English Peer. // His Grandmamma, His Mother's Mother, // Who had some dignity or other, // The Garter, or no matter what, // I can't remember all the Lot! // Said Oh! That I were Brisk and Spry // To give him that for which to cry! // (An empty wish, alas! For she // Was Blind and nearly ninety-three). // The Dear Old Butler thought-but there! // I really neither know nor care // For what the Dear Old Butler thought! // In my opinion, Butlers ought // To know their place, and not to play // The Old Retainer night and day. // I'm getting tired and so are you, // Let's cut the poem into two! // Hillaire Belloc // Lord Lundy (II) // Second Canto // 4 // It happened to Lord Lundy then, // As happens to so many men: // Towards the age of twenty-six, // They shoved him into politics; // In which profession he commanded // The Income that his rank demanded // In turn as Secretary for // India, the Colonies, and War. // But very soon his friends began // To doubt is he were quite the man: // Thus if a member rose to say // (As members do from day to day), // Arising out of that reply...! // Lord Lundy would begin to cry. // A Hint at harmless little jobs // Would shake him with convulsive sobs. // While as for Revelations, these // Would simply bring him to his knees, // And leave him whimpering like a child. // It drove his colleagues raving wild! // They let him sink from Post to Post, // From fifteen hundred at the most // To eight, and barely six-and then // To be Curator of Big Ben!...// And finally there came a Threat // To oust him from the Cabinet! // The Duke - his aged grand-sire - bore // The shame till he could bear no more. // He rallied his declining powers, // Summoned the youth to Brackley Towers, // And bitterly addressed him thus- // Sir! you have disappointed us! // We had intended you to be // The next Prime Minister but three: // The stocks were sold; the Press was squared: // The Middle Class was quite prepared. // But as it is!... My language fails! // Go out and govern New South Wales! // The Aged Patriot groaned and died: // And gracious! how Lord Lundy cried! // Hillaire Belloc...