"Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again
The five
unmistakable marks
By 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 agree
That it carries too far, when I say
That 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 right
To describe each particular batch:
Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite,
And those that have whiskers, and scratch.
"For, although common Snarks do no manner 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 woe
In 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 remark
To the day when you took me
aboard of your ship
To 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 bold
In a hasty parenthesis cried,
"That's exactly the way I have always been told
That the
capture of Snarks should be tried!")
" 'But oh, beamish
nephew,
beware of the day,
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You 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 bowl
Brimming 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 cannot endure!"
Fit the fourth
THE HUNTING
The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow.
"If only you'd
spoken before!
It's excessively
awkward to mention it now,
With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!
"We should all of us
grieve, as you well may believe,
If you never were met with again--
But surely, my man, when the
voyage began,
You might have suggested it then?
"It's excessively
awkward to mention it now--
As I think I've already remarked."
And the man they called "Hi!" replied, with a sigh,
"I informed you the day we embarked.
"You may
charge me with murder--or want of sense--
(We are all of us weak at times):
But the slightest approach to a false pretense
Was never among my crimes!
"I said it in Hebrew--I said it in Dutch--
I said it in German and Greek:
But I
wholly forgot (and it vexes me much)
That English is what you speak!"
"'Tis a
pitiful tale," said the Bellman, whose face
Had grown longer at every word:
"But, now that you've stated the whole of your case,
More
debate would be simply absurd.
"The rest of my speech" (he explained to his men)
"You shall hear when I've
leisure to speak it.
But the Snark is at hand, let me tell you again!
'Tis your
glorious duty to seek it!
"To seek it with thimbles, to seek it with care;
To
pursue it with forks and hope;
To
threaten its life with a railway-share;
To charm it with smiles and soap!
"For the Snark's a
peculiar creature, that won't
Be caught in a
commonplace way.
Do all that you know, and try all that you don't:
Not a chance must be wasted to-day!
"For England expects--I
forbear to proceed:
'Tis a maxim
tremendous, but trite:
And you'd best be unpacking the things that you need
To rig yourselves out for the fight."
Then the Banker endorsed a blank check (which he crossed),
And changed his loose silver for notes.
The Baker with care combed his whiskers and hair,
And shook the dust out of his coats.
The Boots and the Broker were sharpening a spade--
Each
working the grindstone in turn:
But the Beaver went on making lace, and displayed
No interest in the concern:
Though the Barrister tried to
appeal to its pride,
And
vainly proceeded to cite
A number of cases, in which making laces
Had been proved an infringement of right.
The maker of Bonnets ferociously planned
A novel
arrangement of bows:
While the Billiard-marker with quivering hand
Was chalking the tip of his nose.
But the Butcher turned
nervous, and dressed himself fine,
With yellow kid gloves and a ruff--
Said he felt it exactly like going to dine,
Which the Bellman declared was all "stuff."
"Introduce me, now there's a good fellow," he said,
"If we happen to meet it together!"
And the Bellman, sagaciously nodding his head,
Said "That must depend on the weather."
The Beaver went simply galumphing about,
At
seeing the Butcher so shy:
And even the Baker, though
stupid and stout,
Made an effort to wink with one eye.
"Be a man!" said the Bellman in wrath, as he heard
The Butcher
beginning to sob.
"Should we meet with a Jubjub, that
desperate bird,
We shall need all our strength for the job!"
Fit the Fifth
THE BEAVER'S LESSON
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They
pursued it with forks and hope;
They
threatened its life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
Then the Butcher contrived an
ingenious plan
For making a separate sally;
And fixed on a spot unfrequented by man,
A
dismal and
desolatevalley.
But the very same plan to the Beaver occurred:
It had chosen the very same place:
Yet neither betrayed, by a sign or a word,
The
disgust that appeared in his face.
Each thought he was thinking of nothing but "Snark"
And the
glorious work of the day;
And each tried to
pretend that he did not remark
That the other was going that way.
But the
valley grew narrow and narrower still,
And the evening got darker and colder,
Till (merely from
nervousness, not from goodwill)
They marched along shoulder to shoulder.
Then a
scream,
shrill and high, rent the shuddering sky,
And they knew that some danger was near:
The Beaver turned pale to the tip of its tail,
And even the Butcher felt queer.
He thought of his
childhood, left far far behind--
That blissful and
innocent state--
The sound so exactly recalled to his mind
A pencil that squeaks on a slate!
"'Tis the voice of the Jubjub!" he suddenly cried.
(This man, that they used to call "Dunce.")
"As the Bellman would tell you," he added with pride,
"I have uttered that
sentiment once.
"'Tis the note of the Jubjub! Keep count, I entreat;
You will find I have told it you twice.
'Tis the song of the Jubjub! The proof is complete,
If only I've stated it thrice."
The Beaver had counted with scrupulous care,
Attending to every word:
But it fairly lost heart, and outgrabe in
despair,