[Editor: This letter and poem by “X.X.X.” were published in Hermes: The Magazine of the University of Sydney (Sydney, NSW), 20 November 1894. The poem was written about contributing to Hermes magazine, and bemoans the lack of input from two of the magazine’s regular contributors, Aristarchus and Dowell.]
Looking Backward.
“The Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness.”
Hermes, where are my old pals? Now I call to mind the old times, when the Editor would say: “Bit short of stuff this number, aren’t we? Better send a note to O’Reilly;” or, “This is pretty dry matter, this month; get a couple of columns from Aristarchus;” or, “I say, Treble X, we’re d——d hard up for copy” — he used wicked forms of speech, sometimes — “and must get some somewhere by to-morrow. Any rot’ll do, so I thought you wouldn’t mind writing something.” But O’Reilly hasn’t written for a long, long time; and in your last number there was nothing from the pen of Aristarchus. Hermes, my thin, doddering friend, sit hereby, and hand me yon lute, framed of the bones of dear old Villon. Now mark me:
I am lonely, I sing in the midst of the waste,
Like the Baptist of whom you may haply have read,
And my trousers are ragged, my boots are unlaced,
And a long strip of sack-cloth is tied round my head.
Not Gurney could number the tears that I’ve shed,
When I sit in the ashes and ceaselessly weep;
I am lonely, for, each in his warm little bed,
Aristarchus and Dowell have fallen asleep.And I haven’t the heart to take one little taste
Of the victuals on which we together have fed,
And I care not a whit where the bottle is placed,
And no longer my nose with the whisky is red,
No longer the bar-room resounds to my tread,
No longer the beer floweth foamy and deep;
I am lonely, I say, and I would I were dead —
Aristarchus and Dowell have fallen asleep.They have left us to languish. They said in their haste —
“Oh, bother your singing! We’ll slumber instead;”
And by flight their bright record they dimmed and disgraced,
While Hermes was starving for beer and for bread.
So I groaned in the spirit, and sadly I said,
“Well, I’ll do what I can, but, you see, I can’t keep
To the cheerful strain long when my comrades have fled —
Aristarchus and Dowell have fallen asleep.”Good Hermes, forgive me! My heart is like lead;
I can only sob softly; I can’t even steep
In the whisky my sorrow for days that have sped —
Aristarchus and Dowell have fallen asleep!
X.X.X.
Source:
Hermes: The Magazine of the University of Sydney (Sydney, NSW), vol. 10 no. 6, 20 November 1894, p. 7
Editor’s notes:
Aristarchus = the pseudonym of someone who wrote for Hermes magazine (University of Sydney); the name was apparently taken from Aristarchus of Samos (ca. 310 BC – ca. 230 BC), an mathematician and astronomer of ancient Greece
Baptist = (in the context of the Bible) John the Baptist
d——d = damned (censored, as it is a swear word)
floweth = (archaic) flows
haply = by accident, by chance, or by luck
lute = a plucked string instrument, similar to a guitar, with a bowl-shaped body (shaped like an egg split vertically in two) and a fretted neck (although sometimes without frets), with a sound hole or opening in the body (although sometimes without an opening)
rot’ll = (vernacular) a contraction of “rot will” (e.g. “any rot will do”)
steep = to immerse, saturate, soak, or wet thoroughly in a liquid; to immerse oneself in a field of knowledge, hobby, profession, science, trade, endeavour, cause, or ideology
victuals = food, provisions
whit = very little, a very tiny amount or part, the least amount; a bit, iota, jot, particle
yon = an abbreviation of “yonder”: at a distance; far away
[Editor: Changed “have fled” to “have fled —” (in line with the existing style and structure of the poem).]
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