I was sitting with my microscope, upon my parlor rug,
With a very heavy quarto and a very lively bug;
The true bug had been organized with only two antennae,
But the humbug in the copperplate would have them twice as many.

And I thought, like Dr. Faustus, of the emptiness of art,
How we take a fragment for the whole, and call the whole a part,
When I heard a heavy footstep that was loud enough for two,
And a man of forty entered, exclaiming, ââ?¬Å?How dââ?¬â?¢ ye do?ââ?¬Â

He was not a ghost, my visitor, but solid flesh and bone;
He wore a Palo Alto hat, his weight was twenty stone;
(Itââ?¬â?¢s odd how hats expand their brims as riper years invade,
As if when life had reached its noon it wanted them for shade!)

I lost my focus,ââ?¬â?à?­dropped my book,ââ?¬â?à?­the bug, who was a flea,
At once exploded, and commenced experiments on me.
They have a certain heartiness that frequently appalls,ââ?¬â?à?­
Those mediaeval gentlemen in semilunar smalls!

ââ?¬Å?My boy,ââ?¬Â he said, (colloquial ways,ââ?¬â?à?­the vast, broad-hatted man,)
ââ?¬Å?Come dine with us on Thursday next,ââ?¬â?à?­you must, you know you can;
Weââ?¬â?¢re going to have a roaring time, with lots of fun and noise,
Distinguished guests, et cetera, the judge, and all the boys.ââ?¬Â

Not so,ââ?¬â?à?­I said,ââ?¬â?à?­my temporal bones are showing pretty clear.
It ââ?¬â?¢s time to stop,ââ?¬â?à?­just look and see that hair above this ear;
My golden days are more than spent,ââ?¬â?à?­and, what is very strange,
If these are real silver hairs, Iââ?¬â?¢m getting lots of change.

Besidesââ?¬â?à?­my prospectsââ?¬â?à?­donââ?¬â?¢t you know that people wonââ?¬â?¢t employ
A man that wrongs his manliness by laughing like a boy?
And suspect the azure blossom that unfolds upon a shoot,
As if wisdomââ?¬â?¢s old potato could not flourish at its root?

Itââ?¬â?¢s a very fine reflection, when you ââ?¬â?¢re etching out a smile
On a copperplate of faces that would stretch at least a mile,
That, what with sneers from enemies and cheapening shrugs of friends,
It will cost you all the earnings that a month of labor lends!

Itââ?¬â?¢s a vastly pleasing prospect, when youââ?¬â?¢re screwing out a laugh,
That your very next yearââ?¬â?¢s income is diminished by a half,
And a little boy trips barefoot that Pegasus may go,
And the babyââ?¬â?¢s milk is watered that your Helicon may flow!

No;ââ?¬â?à?­the joke has been a good one,ââ?¬â?à?­but Iââ?¬â?¢m getting fond of quiet,
And I donââ?¬â?¢t like deviations from my customary diet;
So I think I will not go with you to hear the toasts and speeches,
But stick to old Montgomery Place, and have some pig and peaches.

The fat man answered: Shut your mouth, and hear the genuine creed;
The true essentials of a feast are only fun and feed;
The force that wheels the planets round delights in spinning tops,
And that young earthquake tââ?¬â?¢ other day was great at shaking props.

I tell you what, philosopher, if all the longest heads
That ever knocked their sinciputs in stretching on their beds
Were round one great mahogany, Iââ?¬â?¢d beat those fine old folks
With twenty dishes, twenty fools, and twenty clever jokes!

Why, if Columbus should be there, the company would beg
Heââ?¬â?¢d show that little trick of his of balancing the egg!
Milton to Stilton would give in, and Solomon to Salmon,
And Roger Bacon be a bore, and Francis Bacon gammon!

And as for all the ââ?¬Å?patronageââ?¬Â of all the clowns and boors
That squint their little narrow eyes at any freak of yours,
Do leave them to your prosier friends,ââ?¬â?à?­such fellows ought to die
When rhubarb is so very scarce and ipecac so high!

And so I come,ââ?¬â?à?­like Lochinvar, to tread a single measure,ââ?¬â?à?­
To purchase with a loaf of bread a sugar-plum of pleasure,
To enter for the cup of glass thatââ?¬â?¢s run for after dinner,
Which yields a single sparkling draught, then breaks and cuts the winner.

Ah, thatââ?¬â?¢s the way delusion comes,ââ?¬â?à?­a glass of old Madeira,
A pair of visual diaphragms revolved by Jane or Sarah,
And down go vows and promises without the slightest question
If eating words wonââ?¬â?¢t compromise the organs of digestion!

And yet, among my native shades, beside my nursing mother,
Where every stranger seems a friend, and every friend a brother,
I feel the old convivial glow (unaided) oââ?¬â?¢er me stealing,ââ?¬â?à?­
The warm, champagny, the old-particular brandy-punchy feeling.

Weââ?¬â?¢re all alike;ââ?¬â?à?­Vesuvius flings the scoriae from his fountain,
But down they come in volleying rain back to the burning mountain;
We leave, like those volcanic stones, our precious Alma Mater,
But will keep dropping in again to see the dear old crater.