Pancake Pieces

Six guineas in prizes was offered for any form of rondeau, rondel or roundel on the pancake.

THEY say a classical education fits a man for any- thing; it certainly seems to fit a man to turn deli- cate verses redolent of Horace (Areas) or mount his Pegasus, his geegee, and produce a witty trifle (Rev. R. Y. Holmes). Justice compels me to award five guineas in equal shares to the above- named and to suggest that the remaining guinea be given to Jeremy Kingston for the only and eminently successful attempt at a 'Roundel of Swinburne.' I take up this grudging tone because what I would like to do would be to spend the whole six guineas on book tokens to enable all competitors to provide themselves with that sine qua non for us dabblers in verse, namely a copy of Fowler's Modern English Usage. Now accord- ing to Fowler a rondeau, rondel or roundel may be in one of four patterns but it must conform strictly to the type. Did some perhaps confuse it with a triolet?

So much for the form, and, as I am in didactic vein, here is advice as to the subject matter : the most beautiful or neatly turned verses have no chance unless they are original either in concept, like the entries of Leslie Johnson and D. Drum- mond, or in treatment like that of John D. M'Intosh. In actual fact there were many original ideas : Nancy Gunter painted the same scene as Arcas but lacked his lightness of touch; Edwin Haward provided amusing illustrations of flat- ness; G. J. Blundell pleaded 'Toss it not!'; Sir Patrick Laird heard the pancake bell; C. J. Bart- lett apostrophised Mrs. Becton. Others excelled in mastery of form and made my mouth water, e.g., L. L. Keating. And there were some amusing double rhymes, such as those in Gloria Prince's rondeau, and in J. D. Westwood's rondel :

Pancake loved of the nymphs and satyrs . . . You are no product of eggs and batters,

Commendations to all those mentioned above, as also to Pibwob, D. L. L. Clarke and J. A. Lindon.

PRIZES (AucAs)

O cake of Pan, in what retreat Of Arcady from noon-day heat Where the rough Lord of shepherds took His ease beside a mountain brook, Wast thou first born, his lips to greet?

O lemon-bitter, honey-sweet As his shrill pipe, what wood-nymph neat Wrought thee, and laid beside his crook,

0 cake of Pan?

Brown as her locks, the crisped wheat, And light as lips when kisses meet.

The enraptured God awhile forsook His piping, for the lovely cook Who gave such food for gods to eat,

0 cake of Pan!

(REV. R. Y. HOLMES)

You ask me now to write a rondeau, C.G.

So let me mount my Pegasus (my geegee),

And sing that dish called by the Greeks new kaiolv

—All evil—worse than any other tack on Earth and to my dainty taste N.B.G. How could I eat a thing that looks like e.g., Some fungoid growth or (though considered V.G.) A mustard plaster for the sick to smack on?

You ask me now.

I'd rather starve in Borneo or Fiji Than eat such messy, squashy stuff; yet (D.G.)

I'll come if you invite me to a snack on Shrove Tuesday, though it bring a heart attack on Myself a gluttonous dyspeptic p.g. You ask me, now.

(JEREMY KINGSTON)

A pancake I make as a magic of love, as an art That binds with a bond of delight no beloved dare break; To incline them to come to me—then, that they may not depart, A pancake I make.

With its shape of a sun at the height it hath power to break And to sweep from the, ah, most fretful, regret- fullest heart Held deep in the weariest cell, the most desolate ache.

With what loud delighting for that long denied them they start Their sweet fragment; with what lack of sorrow forsake The tomorrow!—For this, by means that I may not impart, A pancake I make.

Note: The subject emerges, as with Swinburne, in a form, eventually, almost,

COMMENDED

(JOHN D. M'INTOSH)

Flipping Pancake, Oh to be Soaring heavenwards like Thee! Flying (frying) through the air, Flippant, flappant, unaware Of Thy final destiny.

Viscous discus, steadily Braking under gravity; Gliding, riding high up there, Flipping Pancake.

Dropping, flopping—I can see In Thy fluttering, poetry. Thou art quite devoid of care, Drooping, swooping, landing . . . where?

Careful, or Thou'lt land on ME . . . Flipping Pancake!

(LESLIE JOHNSON)

I'd like some more accomplished pen

Than mine to give you all the gen

About the fowl that duly laid

The eggs from which this dish was made, A most superior type of hen;

Also the miller, best of men

(Long may he thrive in but and ben), Who ground the flour of finest grade (I'd like some more);

The cow that gave the milk, and then The lemons from some foreign glen,

The sugar from afar conveyed—

All to these pancakes lent their aid. Have I already eaten ten?

I'd like some more.

(GLORIA PRINCE)

Round as this round are pancakes While browning in the pan; You joggle them and scan

Them, bending till your flanks aches- Quite-circular-in-the-platmakes. (Well, most of mine began

Round as this round.)

But—toss-them-if-you-can-cakes : I know I never can;

Mine always end as scran, Instead of (black-and-tan-cakes) Round as this round.