The hunting of the Snark

Fit the Second THE BELLMAN'S SPEECH

The Bellman himself they all praised to the skies -Such a carriage, such ease and such grace!Such solemnity, too! One could see he was wise,The moment one looked in his face!He had bought a large map representing the sea,Without the least vestige of land:And the crew were much pleased when they found it to beA map they could all understand."What's the good of Mercator's North Poles and Equators,Tropics, Zones, and Meridian Lines?"So the Bellman would cry: and the crew would reply"They are merely conventional signs!"Other maps are such shapes, with their islands and capes!But we've got our brave Captain to thank:(So the crew would protest) "that he's bought us the best -A perfect and absolute blank!"This was charming, no doubt; but they shortly found outThat the Captain they trusted so wellHad only one notion for crossing the ocean,And that was to tingle his bell.He was thoughtful and grave — but the orders he gaveWere enough to bewilder a crew.When he cried "Steer to starboard, but keep her head larboard!"What on earth was the helmsman to do?Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes:A thing, as the Bellman remarked,That frequently happens in tropical climes,When a vessel is, so to speak, "snarked."But the principal failing occurred in the sailing,And the Bellman, perplexed and distressed,Said he had hoped, at least, when the wind blew due East,That the ship would not travel due West!But the danger was past — they had landed at last,With their boxes, portmanteaus, and bags:Yet at first sight the crew were not pleased with the view,Which consisted to chasms and crags.The Bellman perceived that their spirits were low,And repeated in musical toneSome jokes he had kept for a season of woe -But the crew would do nothing but groan.He served out some grog with a liberal hand,And bade them sit down on the beach:And they could not but own that their Captain looked grand,As he stood and delivered his speech."Friends, Romans, and countrymen, lend me your ears!"(They were all of them fond of quotations:So they drank to his health, and they gave him three cheers,While he served out additional rations)."We have sailed many months, we have sailed many weeks,(Four weeks to the month you may mark),But never as yet ('tis your Captain who speaks)Have we caught the least glimpse of a Snark!"We have sailed many weeks, we have sailed many days,(Seven days to the week I allow),But a Snark, on the which we might lovingly gaze,We have never beheld till now!"Come, listen, my men, while I tell you againThe five unmistakable marksBy which you may know, wheresoever you go,The warranted genuine Snarks."Let us take them in order. The first is the taste,Which is meager and hollow, but crisp:Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist,With a flavor of Will-o-the-wisp."Its habit of getting up late you'll agreeThat it carries too far, when I sayThat it frequently breakfasts at five-o'clock tea,And dines on the following day."The third is its slowness in taking a jest.Should you happen to venture on one,It will sigh like a thing that is deeply distressed:And it always looks grave at a pun."The fourth is its fondness for bathing-machines,Which is constantly carries about,And believes that they add to the beauty of scenes -A sentiment open to doubt."The fifth is ambition. It next will be rightTo describe each particular batch:Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite,And those that have whiskers, and scratch."For, although common Snarks do no ma

er of harm,Yet, I feel it my duty to say,Some are Boojums — " The Bellman broke off in alarm,For the Baker had fainted away. 

Fit the Third THE BAKER'S TALE

They roused him with muffins — they roused him with ice -They roused him with mustard and cress -They roused him with jam and judicious advice -They set him conundrums to guess.When at length he sat up and was able to speak,His sad story he offered to tell;And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!"And excitedly tingled his bell.There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,Scarcely even a howl or a groan,As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woeIn an antediluvian tone."My father and mother were honest, though poor — ""Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste."If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark -We have hardly a minute to waste!""I skip forty years," said the Baker, in tears,"And proceed without further remarkTo the day when you took me aboard of your shipTo help you in hunting the Snark."A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)Remarked, when I bade him farewell — ""Oh, skip your dear uncle!" the Bellman exclaimed,As he angrily tingled his bell."He remarked to me then," said that mildest of men," 'If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:Fetch it home by all means — you may serve it with greens,And it's handy for striking a light." 'You may seek it with thimbles — and seek it with care;You may hunt it with forks and hope;You may threaten its life with a railway-share;You may charm it with smiles and soap — ' "("That's exactly the method," the Bellman boldIn a hasty parenthesis cried,"That's exactly the way I have always been toldThat the capture of Snarks should be tried!")" 'But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,If your Snark be a Boojum! For thenYou will softly and suddenly vanish away,And never be met with again!'"It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul,When I think of my uncle's last words:And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowlBrimming over with quivering curds!"It is this, it is this — " "We have had that before!"The Bellman indignantly said.And the Baker replied "Let me say it once more.It is this, it is this that I dread!"I engage with the Snark — every night after dark -In a dreamy delirious fight:I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,And I use it for striking a light:"But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,In a moment (of this I am sure),I shall softly and suddenly vanish away -And the notion I ca

ot endure!"