Hardy fun, Robin, but he doth go on a bit, the old f____!
Stephen V
> Thomas Hardy - An Ancient To Ancients
>
> Where once we danced, where once we sang,
> Gentlemen,
> The floors are sunken, cobwebs hang,
> And cracks creep; worms have fed upon
> The doors. Yea, sprightlier times were then
> Than now, with harps and tabrets gone,
> Gentlemen!
>
> Where once we rowed, where once we sailed,
> Gentlemen,
> And damsels took the tiller, veiled
> Against too strong a stare (God wot
> Their fancy, then or anywhen!)
> Upon that shore we are clean forgot,
> Gentlemen!
>
> We have lost somewhat of that, afar and near,
> Gentlemen,
> The thinning of our ranks each year
> Affords a hint we are nigh undone,
> That shall not be ever again
> The marked of many, loved of one,
> Gentlemen.
>
> In dance the polka hit our wish,
> Gentlemen,
> The paced quadrille, the spry schottische,
> "Sir Roger."--And in opera spheres
> The "Girl" (the famed "Bohemian"),
> And "Trovatore" held the ears,
> Gentlemen.
>
> This season's paintings do not please,
> Gentlemen
> Like Etty, Mulready, Maclise;
> Throbbing romance had waned and wanned;
> No wizard wields the witching pen
> Of Bulwer, Scott, Dumas, and Sand,
> Gentlemen.
>
> The bower we shrined to Tennyson,
> Gentlemen,
> Is roof-wrecked; damps there drip upon
> Sagged seats, the creeper-nails are rust,
> The spider is sole denizen;
> Even she who voiced those rhymes is dust,
> Gentlemen!
>
> We who met sunrise sanguine-souled,
> Gentlemen,
> Are wearing weary. We are old;
> These younger press; we feel our rout
> Is imminent to Aïdes' den,--
> That evening shades are stretching out,
> Gentlemen!
>
> And yet, though ours be failing frames,
> Gentlemen,
> So were some others' history names,
> Who trode their track light-limbed and fast
> As these youth, and not alien
> From enterprise, to their long last,
> Gentlemen.
>
> Sophocles, Plato, Socrates,
> Gentlemen,
> Pythagoras, Thucydides,
> Herodotus, and Homer,--yea,
> Clement, Augustin, Origen,
> Burnt brightlier towards their setting-day,
> Gentlemen.
>
> And ye, red-lipped and smooth-browed; list,
> Gentlemen;
> Much is there waits you we have missed;
> Much lore we leave you worth the knowing,
> Much, much has lain outside our ken;
> Nay, rush not: time serves: we are going,
> Gentlemen.
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