BALLADE TO AN OLD FRIEND
BY C. S. FORESTER What brought you to me? Accident or fate? A punishment or answer to a prayer? A glance towards my shelves reveals you there In seven volumes—no, by now it's eight, As if Poe had eight ravens, I declare. Eight volumes standing in a serried row, And eighty-five translations there or so, Recounting your achievements and your fears. I should be glad to see the number grow, Because we've been together twenty years.
Now did I once your destiny dictate? Only because I willed it did you wear The epaulettes of rank? And did your hair Recede at my command? At any rate My pencil wrote the words. But can I swear It was my will that caused the winds to blow? Did I send you to Malta and Malmo? Did I, or you, provoke those women's tears? Well, I'll admit 'twas I who caused that woe, Because we've been together twenty years.
Reluctantly I'll carry all the weight Of this responsibility, aware
Of what it means, because it's only fair,
In this division that I contemplate, That you and I should have an equal share.
I made your wretched sailors yell 'heave-ho'; I chased the caitiff enemy below;
I set Your Lordship in the House of Peers—
But you have brought me many a quid pro quo Because we've been together twenty years.
Envoi
Yet. horrid Horry mawkish matelot, Obnoxious more, I think, to friend than foe, 'Your very name excruciates my ears— I hope you roast in hell. Horatio, Because we've been together twenty years.
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