COMPETITION

Bathetic

Jaspistos

In Competition No. 1765 you were in- vited to write a poem in which the last line is a crashing example of bathos.

The Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword And bad him swiftly drive the approaching fire From where our naval magazines were stored.

That's Dryden, crashing unintentionally. Here's Dr Johnson doing it on purpose:

Hermit hoar, in solemn cell, Wearing out life's evening gray; Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell, What is bliss, and which the way? Thus I spoke; and speaking sigh'd; Scarce repressed the starting tear; When the smiling sage replied Come, my lad, and drink some beer.

A great and good entry — thank you. J. CA. Lamb and Alanna Blake both produce' charming and funny poems, but the last lines seemed to me closer to wit than bathos. The Single Galosh Prize for the most bathetic line goes to Richard Blot!' field for 'And after many a summer cites, the duck.' The money-winners get each, and the bonus bottle of Aberlour Single Malt whisky goes to Philip Dacre.

The breath we pluck to tread this earthly zone Is but a loan, Nor may we plead or bluster to retract That mortal pact,

bint, having laughed or wept our licensed day, Steal soft away

To what retreat, no wise man claims to know My mum does, though. (Philip Dacre) We sat and stared at the silver sea As the waves creamed over that Southern shore, All through the lazy afternoon, Dreamt what the future had in store;

A golden day we'll never forget,

Though the evening turned out cold and wet. (Stanley J. Sharpless)

His coronet weighs hard; a thousand years °t. Princely glories and of troubled nights, Of grand nobilities and brutal fights, loyal oaths, and treacheries, and tears, press down on him, whilst rigid custom chokes His need to be himself. The stars above Change not, and nor dares he. He phones his

love, And has a giggle at her Tampax jokes. (George Simmers)

k,Nevet was there a fairer sight, '10 dawn or sunset half as bright!

No tiger-lily and no rose With such enchanted colour glows As this my object of desire, My log-effect electric fire! (Carolyn Beckingham) Even as once Prometheus With purloined flame transfigured us From flounderers in Stygian gloom To gods, you came into my room, Dissolving darkness with such light As never known to human sight. Thus came you in and brought me lots Of long-life bulbs, one hundred watts. (Terence M. Cluderay) '0, men of fortune, rub your eyes! What's in this tent none can surmise. To gain my goal I fought the odds Laid down by our capricious gods. My sacrifices - and your gold Have captured what no man could hold!'

But, as they strained to peer inside, The dodo hiccoughed once, and died.

(Joy Sherrington) How wonderful it is to see the dawn, Under these trees, where shadowed boughs are shaken With song upon the morning breezes borne As all the birds awaken: To see the mountain grass, the frosted fern Turn into fire, and in the sunrise burn: To see eternal glory, and to yearn For sausage, eggs and bacon.

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three.

We streaked on like bullets, intent on our aim, Aware we were playing a perilous game. Our air so intent and our progress so fast Made onlookers' faces turn pale as we passed. All obstacles reeled at our frenzied assaults; Which gave us a total of ninety-six faults. (Paul Griffin)

No. 1768: Very vulgar

In `Trimalchio's Feast' Petronius, a con- temporary of Nero, describes an appalling- ly tasteless evening's entertainment given to friends and parasites by a nouveau riche millionaire. You are invited to describe, as a guest, a modern equivalent. Maximum 150 words. Entries to 'Competition No. 1768' by 26 February.

(Gina Berkeley)