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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539051" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Story of Prince Agib</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">STRIKE the concertina's melancholy string!<br>Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything!<br>Let the piano's martial blast<br>Rouse the Echoes of the Past,<br>For of AGIB, PRINCE OF TARTARY, I sing!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of AGIB, who, amid Tartaric scenes,<br>Wrote a lot of ballet music in his teens:<br>His gentle spirit rolls<br>In the melody of souls -<br>Which is pretty, but I don't know what it means.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of AGIB, who could readily, at sight,<br>Strum a march upon the loud Theodolite.<br>He would diligently play<br>On the Zoetrope all day,<br>And blow the gay Pantechnicon all night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One winter - I am shaky in my dates -<br>Came two starving Tartar minstrels to his gates;<br>Oh, ALLAH be obeyed,<br>How infernally they played!<br>I remember that they called themselves the &quot;Oaits.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! that day of sorrow, misery, and rage,<br>I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age,<br>Photographically lined<br>On the tablet of my mind,<br>When a yesterday has faded from its page!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! PRINCE AGIB went and asked them in;<br>Gave them beer, and eggs, and sweets, and scent, and tin.<br>And when (as snobs would say)<br>They had &quot;put it all away,&quot;<br>He requested them to tune up and begin.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though its icy horror chill you to the core,<br>I will tell you what I never told before, -<br>The consequences true<br>Of that awful interview,<br>FOR I LISTENED AT THE KEYHOLE IN THE DOOR!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They played him a sonata - let me see!<br>&quot;MEDULLA OBLONGATA&quot; - key of G.<br>Then they began to sing<br>That extremely lovely thing,<br>SCHERZANDO! MA NON TROPPO, PPP.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He gave them money, more than they could count,<br>Scent from a most ingenious little fount,<br>More beer, in little kegs,<br>Many dozen hard-boiled eggs,<br>And goodies to a fabulous amount.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now follows the dim horror of my tale,<br>And I feel I'm growing gradually pale,<br>For, even at this day,<br>Though its sting has passed away,<br>When I venture to remember it, I quail!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The elder of the brothers gave a squeal,<br>All-overish it made me for to feel;<br>&quot;Oh, PRINCE,&quot; he says, says he,<br>&quot;IF A PRINCE INDEED YOU BE,<br>I've a mystery I'm going to reveal!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Oh, listen, if you'd shun a horrid death,<br>To what the gent who's speaking to you saith:<br>No 'Oaits' in truth are we,<br>As you fancy that we be,<br>For (ter-remble!) I am ALECK - this is BETH!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said AGIB, &quot;Oh! accursed of your kind,<br>I have heard that ye are men of evil mind!&quot;<br>BETH gave a dreadful shriek -<br>But before he'd time to speak<br>I was mercilessly collared from behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In number ten or twelve, or even more,<br>They fastened me full length upon the floor.<br>On my face extended flat,<br>I was walloped with a cat<br>For listening at the keyhole of a door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! the horror of that agonizing thrill!<br>(I can feel the place in frosty weather still).<br>For a week from ten to four<br>I was fastened to the floor,<br>While a mercenary wopped me with a will</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They branded me and broke me on a wheel,<br>And they left me in an hospital to heal;<br>And, upon my solemn word,<br>I have never never heard<br>What those Tartars had determined to reveal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But that day of sorrow, misery, and rage,<br>I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age,<br>Photographically lined<br>On the tablet of my mind,<br>When a yesterday has faded from its page.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Schwenck+Gilbert">William Schwenck Gilbert</a><div class=q>
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Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything!
Let the piano's martial blast
Rouse the Echoes of the Past,
For of AGIB, PRINCE OF TARTARY, I sing!

Of AGIB, who, amid Tartaric scenes,
Wrote a lot of ballet ..."></div>
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