XII.THAT OF PASHA ABDULLA BEY.
Abdulla Bey—a Pasha—hadA turn for joy and merriment:You never caughthimlooking sad,Nor glowering in discontent.His normal attitude was oneOf calm, serene placidity;His nature gay, and full of fun,And free from all acidity.A trifling instance I'll relateOf Pasha Bey's urbanity,The which will clearly indicateHis marvellous humanity.He had a dozen wives or so(In him no immorality;For Eastern custom, as you know,Permits, of wives, plurality).Yes; quite a dozen wives—or more—Abdulla had, and for a whileNo sound was heard of strife or warWithin Abdulla's domicile.But, oh! how rare it is to findA dozen ladies who'll consentTo think as with a single mind,And live together in content.Abdulla's wives—altho', no doubt,If taken individually,Would never think of falling out,—Collectively, couldnotagree.At first, in quite a playful way,They quarrelled—rather prettily;Then cutting things contrived to sayAbout each other wittily;Then petty jealousies and sneersBegan,—just feeble flickerings—Which grew, alas! to bitter tears,And fierce domestic bickerings.Younever had a dozen wives—Of course not—so you cannot knowThe grave discomfort in their livesThese Pashas sometimes undergo.Abdulla Bey, however,heWas not the one to be dismayed,And doubtless you'll astounded beTo hear what wisdom he displayed.He did not—as some would have done—Seek angry ladies to coerce;He did not use to any oneExpressions impolite—or worse.
Abdulla Bey—a Pasha—hadA turn for joy and merriment:You never caughthimlooking sad,Nor glowering in discontent.His normal attitude was oneOf calm, serene placidity;His nature gay, and full of fun,And free from all acidity.A trifling instance I'll relateOf Pasha Bey's urbanity,The which will clearly indicateHis marvellous humanity.He had a dozen wives or so(In him no immorality;For Eastern custom, as you know,Permits, of wives, plurality).Yes; quite a dozen wives—or more—Abdulla had, and for a whileNo sound was heard of strife or warWithin Abdulla's domicile.But, oh! how rare it is to findA dozen ladies who'll consentTo think as with a single mind,And live together in content.Abdulla's wives—altho', no doubt,If taken individually,Would never think of falling out,—Collectively, couldnotagree.At first, in quite a playful way,They quarrelled—rather prettily;Then cutting things contrived to sayAbout each other wittily;Then petty jealousies and sneersBegan,—just feeble flickerings—Which grew, alas! to bitter tears,And fierce domestic bickerings.Younever had a dozen wives—Of course not—so you cannot knowThe grave discomfort in their livesThese Pashas sometimes undergo.Abdulla Bey, however,heWas not the one to be dismayed,And doubtless you'll astounded beTo hear what wisdom he displayed.He did not—as some would have done—Seek angry ladies to coerce;He did not use to any oneExpressions impolite—or worse.
Abdulla Bey—a Pasha—hadA turn for joy and merriment:You never caughthimlooking sad,Nor glowering in discontent.
Abdulla Bey—a Pasha—had
A turn for joy and merriment:
You never caughthimlooking sad,
Nor glowering in discontent.
His normal attitude was oneOf calm, serene placidity;His nature gay, and full of fun,And free from all acidity.
His normal attitude was one
Of calm, serene placidity;
His nature gay, and full of fun,
And free from all acidity.
A trifling instance I'll relateOf Pasha Bey's urbanity,The which will clearly indicateHis marvellous humanity.
A trifling instance I'll relate
Of Pasha Bey's urbanity,
The which will clearly indicate
His marvellous humanity.
He had a dozen wives or so(In him no immorality;For Eastern custom, as you know,Permits, of wives, plurality).
He had a dozen wives or so
(In him no immorality;
For Eastern custom, as you know,
Permits, of wives, plurality).
Yes; quite a dozen wives—or more—Abdulla had, and for a whileNo sound was heard of strife or warWithin Abdulla's domicile.
Yes; quite a dozen wives—or more—
Abdulla had, and for a while
No sound was heard of strife or war
Within Abdulla's domicile.
But, oh! how rare it is to findA dozen ladies who'll consentTo think as with a single mind,And live together in content.
But, oh! how rare it is to find
A dozen ladies who'll consent
To think as with a single mind,
And live together in content.
Abdulla's wives—altho', no doubt,If taken individually,Would never think of falling out,—Collectively, couldnotagree.
Abdulla's wives—altho', no doubt,
If taken individually,
Would never think of falling out,—
Collectively, couldnotagree.
At first, in quite a playful way,They quarrelled—rather prettily;Then cutting things contrived to sayAbout each other wittily;
At first, in quite a playful way,
They quarrelled—rather prettily;
Then cutting things contrived to say
About each other wittily;
Then petty jealousies and sneersBegan,—just feeble flickerings—Which grew, alas! to bitter tears,And fierce domestic bickerings.
Then petty jealousies and sneers
Began,—just feeble flickerings—
Which grew, alas! to bitter tears,
And fierce domestic bickerings.
Younever had a dozen wives—Of course not—so you cannot knowThe grave discomfort in their livesThese Pashas sometimes undergo.
Younever had a dozen wives—
Of course not—so you cannot know
The grave discomfort in their lives
These Pashas sometimes undergo.
Abdulla Bey, however,heWas not the one to be dismayed,And doubtless you'll astounded beTo hear what wisdom he displayed.
Abdulla Bey, however,he
Was not the one to be dismayed,
And doubtless you'll astounded be
To hear what wisdom he displayed.
He did not—as some would have done—Seek angry ladies to coerce;He did not use to any oneExpressions impolite—or worse.
He did not—as some would have done—
Seek angry ladies to coerce;
He did not use to any one
Expressions impolite—or worse.
No, what he did was simply this:He stood those ladies in a row,And said, "My dears, don't take amissWhat I'm about to say, you know."I find you cannot, like the birds,Within your little nest agree,So I'll unfold, in briefest words,A plan which has occurred to me."These quarrellings, these manners lax,In comfort means a loss for us,So I must tie you up in sacksAnd throw you in the Bosphorus."
No, what he did was simply this:He stood those ladies in a row,And said, "My dears, don't take amissWhat I'm about to say, you know."I find you cannot, like the birds,Within your little nest agree,So I'll unfold, in briefest words,A plan which has occurred to me."These quarrellings, these manners lax,In comfort means a loss for us,So I must tie you up in sacksAnd throw you in the Bosphorus."
No, what he did was simply this:He stood those ladies in a row,And said, "My dears, don't take amissWhat I'm about to say, you know.
No, what he did was simply this:
He stood those ladies in a row,
And said, "My dears, don't take amiss
What I'm about to say, you know.
"I find you cannot, like the birds,Within your little nest agree,So I'll unfold, in briefest words,A plan which has occurred to me.
"I find you cannot, like the birds,
Within your little nest agree,
So I'll unfold, in briefest words,
A plan which has occurred to me.
"These quarrellings, these manners lax,In comfort means a loss for us,So I must tie you up in sacksAnd throw you in the Bosphorus."
"These quarrellings, these manners lax,
In comfort means a loss for us,
So I must tie you up in sacks
And throw you in the Bosphorus."
He tied them up; he threw them in;Then Pasha Bey, I beg to state,Didnotseek sympathy to winBy posing as disconsolate.He mourned a week; and then, they say(A Pasha is, of course, a catch),Our friend, the good Abdulla Bey,Got married to another batch.
He tied them up; he threw them in;Then Pasha Bey, I beg to state,Didnotseek sympathy to winBy posing as disconsolate.He mourned a week; and then, they say(A Pasha is, of course, a catch),Our friend, the good Abdulla Bey,Got married to another batch.
He tied them up; he threw them in;Then Pasha Bey, I beg to state,Didnotseek sympathy to winBy posing as disconsolate.
He tied them up; he threw them in;
Then Pasha Bey, I beg to state,
Didnotseek sympathy to win
By posing as disconsolate.
He mourned a week; and then, they say(A Pasha is, of course, a catch),Our friend, the good Abdulla Bey,Got married to another batch.
He mourned a week; and then, they say
(A Pasha is, of course, a catch),
Our friend, the good Abdulla Bey,
Got married to another batch.