the plane where me arts soar you'd aisy rouse a thunder from and | 1 |
where I cling true'tis there I climb tree and where Innocent looks | 2 |
best (pick!) there's holly in his ives. | 3 |
    As my explanations here are probably above your understand- | 4 |
ings, lattlebrattons, though as augmentatively uncomparisoned | 5 |
as Cadwan, Cadwallon and Cadwalloner, I shall revert to a more | 6 |
expletive method which I frequently use when I have to sermo | 7 |
with muddlecrass pupils. Imagine for my purpose that you are a | 8 |
squad of urchins, snifflynosed, goslingnecked, clothyheaded, | 9 |
tangled in your lacings, tingled in your pants, etsitaraw etcicero. | 10 |
And you, Bruno Nowlan, take your tongue out of your inkpot! | 11 |
As none of you knows javanese I will give all my easyfree trans- | 12 |
lation of the old fabulist's parable. Allaboy Minor, take your | 13 |
head out of your satchel! Audi, Joe Peters! Exaudi facts! | 14 |
    The Mookse and The Gripes. | 15 |
    Gentes and laitymen, fullstoppers and semicolonials, hybreds | 16 |
and lubberds! | 17 |
    Eins within a space and a wearywide space it wast ere wohned | 18 |
a Mookse. The onesomeness wast alltolonely, archunsitslike, | 19 |
broady oval, and a Mookse he would a walking go (My hood! | 20 |
cries Antony Romeo),so one grandsumer evening, after a great | 21 |
morning and his good supper of gammon and spittish, having | 22 |
flabelled his eyes, pilleoled his nostrils, vacticanated his ears and | 23 |
palliumed his throats, he put on his impermeable, seized his im- | 24 |
pugnable, harped on his crown and stepped out of his immobile | 25 |
De Rure Albo (socolled becauld it was chalkfull of masterplasters | 26 |
and had borgeously letout gardens strown with cascadas, pinta- | 27 |
costecas, horthoducts and currycombs) and set off from Luds- | 28 |
town a spasso to see how badness was badness in the weirdest of | 29 |
all pensible ways. | 30 |
    As he set off with his father's sword, his lancia spezzata, he was | 31 |
girded on, and with that between his legs and his tarkeels, our | 32 |
once in only Bragspear, he clanked, to my clinking, from veetoes | 33 |
to threetop, every inch of an immortal. | 34 |
    He had not walked over a pentiadpair of parsecs from his | 35 |
azylium when at the turning of the Shinshone Lanteran near | 36 |