The Journalist Abroad

When Parson, Doctor, Don,-- In short, when all the nation Goes gaily off upon Its annual vacation, Their cares professional No more avail to bind them: They go at Pleasure's call And leave their trades behind them.

Like them, departs afar From England's fogs and vapours The literary star, The writer for the papers: But not, like them, at home Leaves he his calling's fetters: Nought can release him from The tyranny of Letters!

When classic scenes amid For rest and peace he hankers, Amari aliquid His joys aesthetic cankers: Whate'er he sees, he knows He has to write upon it A paragraph of prose Or possibly a sonnet:

By mountain lakelets blue, 'Mid wild romantic heath, he's A martyr always to Scribendi cacoethes: The Naiad-haunted stream Or lonely mountain-top he Considers as a theme Available for "copy."

If on the sunlit main With ardour rapt he gazes, He's torturing his brain For neat pictorial phrases: When in a ship or boat He navigates the briny (And here 'tis his to quote Examples set by Heine)

While fellow-passengers Lie stretched in mere prostration, He duly registers Each horrible sensation-- He notes his qualms with care, And bids the public know 'em In "Thoughts on Mal de Mer," Or "Nausea: a Poem."

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Such is his earthly lot: Nor is it wholly certain If Death for him or not Rings down the final curtain, Or if, when hence he's fled To worlds or worse or better, He'll send per Mr St--d A crisp descriptive letter!