What Is Life by “One of the Fancy.” Blackwood’s Magazine
And do you ask me, “What is LIFE?”
And do you ask me, “What is pleasure?”
My muse and I are not at strife,
So listen, lady, to my measure:—
Listen amid thy graceful leisure,
To what is LIFE, and what IS pleasure.
’Tis LIFE to see the first dawn stain
With sallow light the window-pane:
To dress—to wear a rough drab coat,
With large pearl buttons all afloat
Upon the waves of plush: to tie
A kerchief of the King-cup dye
(White spotted with a small bird’s-eye)
Around the neck, and from the nape
Let fall an easy fan-like cape:
To quit the house at morning’s prime,
At six or so—about the time
When watchmen, conscious of the day
Puff out their lantern’s rush-light ray;
Just when the silent streets are strewn
With level shadows, and the moon
Takes the day’s wink and walks aside
To nurse a nap till eventide.
’Tis LIFE to reach the livery stable,
Secure the RIBBONS and the DAY-BILL,
And mount a gig that had a spring
Some summer’s back: and then take wing
Behind (in Mr. Hamlet’s tongue)
A jade whose “withers are unwrung;”
Who stands erect, and yet forlorn,
And from a HALF-PAY life of corn,
Showing as many POINTS each way
As Martial’s Epigrammata,
Yet who, when set a-going, goes
Like one undestined to repose.
’Tis LIFE to revel down the road,
And QUEER each o’erfraught chaise’s load,
To rave and rattle at the GATE,
And shower upon the gatherer’s pate
Damns by the dozens, and such speeches
As well betokens one’s SLANG riches:
To take of Deady’s bright STARK NAKED
A glass or so—’tis LIFE to take it!
To see the Hurst with tents encampt on;
Lurk around Lawrence’s at Hampton;
Join the FLASH crowd (the horse being led
Into the yard, and clean’d and fed);
Talk to Dav’ Hudson, and Cy’ Davis
(The last a fighting rara avis),
And, half in secret, scheme a plan
For trying the hardy GAS-LIGHT-MAN.
’Tis LIFE to cross the laden ferry,
With boon companions, wild and merry,
And see the ring upon the Hurst
With carts encircled—hear the burst
At distance of the eager crowd.
Oh, it is LIFE! to see a proud
And dauntless man step, full of hopes,
Up to the P. C. stakes and ropes,
Throw in his hat, and with a spring,
Get gallantly within the ring;
Eye the wide crowd, and walk awhile,
Taking all cheerings with a smile:
To see him skip—his well-trained form,
White, glowing, muscular, and warm,
All beautiful in conscious power,
Relaxed and quiet, till the hour;
His glossy and transparent frame,
In radiant plight to strive for fame!
To look upon the clean shap’d limb
In silk and flannel clothed trim;
While round the waist the ‘kerchief tied,
Makes the flesh glow in richer pride.
’Tis more than LIFE, to watch him hold
His hand forth, tremulous yet bold,
Over his second’s, and to clasp
His rival’s in a quiet grasp;
To watch the noble attitude
He takes—the crowd in breathless mood:
And then to see, with adamant start,
The muscles set, and the great heart
Hurl a courageous splendid light
Into the eye-and then-the FIGHT!