The Hunting of the Snark, Lewis Carroll [the unexpected everything .txt] 📗

for some years.

The Judge left the Court, looking deeply disgusted:

But the Snark, though a little aghast, As the lawyer to whom the defense was entrusted,

Went bellowing on to the last.

Thus the Barrister dreamed, while the bellowing seemed

To grow every moment more clear: Till he woke to the knell of a furious bell,

Which the Bellman rang close at his ear.

 

Fit the Seventh

 

THE BANKER’S FATE

 

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.

And the Banker, inspired with a courage so new

It was matter for general remark, Rushed madly ahead and was lost to their view

In his zeal to discover the Snark

But while he was seeking with thimbles and care,

A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair,

For he knew it was useless to fly.

He offered large discount—he offered a check

(Drawn “to bearer”) for seven-pounds-ten: But the Bandersnatch merely extended its neck

And grabbed at the Banker again.

Without rest or pause—while those frumious jaws

Went savagely snapping around-He skipped and he hopped, and he floundered and flopped,

Till fainting he fell to the ground.

The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared

Led on by that fear-stricken yell: And the Bellman remarked “It is just as I feared!”

And solemnly tolled on his bell.

He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace

The least likeness to what he had been: While so great was his fright that his waistcoat turned white-A wonderful thing to be seen!

To the horror of all who were present that day.

He uprose in full evening dress, And with senseless grimaces endeavored to say

What his tongue could no longer express.

Down he sank in a chair—ran his hands through his hair—

And chanted in mimsiest tones Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity,

While he rattled a couple of bones.

“Leave him here to his fate—it is getting so late!”

The Bellman exclaimed in a fright. “We have lost half the day. Any further delay,

And we sha’nt catch a Snark before night!”

 

Fit the Eighth

 

THE VANISHING

 

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.

They shuddered to think that the chase might fail,

And the Beaver, excited at last, Went bounding along on the tip of its tail,

For the daylight was nearly past.

“There is Thingumbob shouting!” the Bellman said,

“He is shouting like mad, only hark! He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,

He has certainly found a Snark!”

They gazed in delight, while the Butcher exclaimed

“He was always a desperate wag!” They beheld him—their Baker—their hero unnamed—

On the top of a neighboring crag.

Erect and sublime, for one moment of time.

In the next, that wild figure they saw (As if stung by a spasm) plunge into a chasm,

While they waited and listened in awe.

“It’s a Snark!” was the sound that first came to their ears,

And seemed almost too good to be true. Then followed a torrent of laughter and cheers:

Then the ominous words “It’s a Boo-”

Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air

A weary and wandering sigh Then sounded like “-jum!” but the others declare

It was only a breeze that went by.

They hunted till darkness came on, but they found

Not a button, or feather, or mark, By which they could tell that they stood on the ground

Where the Baker had met with the Snark.

In the midst of the word he was trying to say,

In the midst of his laughter and glee, He had softly and suddenly vanished away–

For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.

 

THE END