Ye who have read in HOMER's mighty song

How sage ULYSSES, AJAX towering strong,

Met at the funeral games on Trojan sands,

With knotted limbs and grip of sinewy hands,

To wrestle for the prize, attend, draw near,

And a new tale of coming tussle hear!

When great ACHILLES called them to the lists,

Those men of massive thews and ponderous fists,

"Scarce did the chief the vigorous strife propose,

When tower-like AJAX and ULYSSES rose.

Amid the ring each nervous rival stands

Embracing rigid with implicit hands."

Now Greek meets Greek again, but wrestling now

Is not as on old Ilion's shore, I trow;

Not now the olive crown, the long-wool'd sheep,

Is prize; 'tis Power they strive to win and keep.

By diverse dodges and by novel "chips,"

Subtler "approaches," and more artful "grips,"

The rival champions strive to lock and fell,

Gallia's devices, found to answer well

In wary onset and in finish slow,

Old Attic swiftness, seen in hold and throw.

Supplement or supplant. When AJAX stood

Before ULYSSES, neither seemed in mood

For long manoeuvring. To the clutch they came

With sinews of snap-steel and souls of flame.

"Close lock'd above, their heads and arm are mix'd;

Below their planted feet at distance fix'd:

Like two strong rafters, which the builder forms

Proof to the wintry winds and howling storms;

Their tops connected, but at wider space

Fix'd on the centre stands their solid base."

So in old days. Now wrestlers shift like snakes,

And dodge à la DUBOIS, for mightier stakes

Than olive, parsley, or the champion's belt

Can furnish forth.

Long time hath it been felt

That two superior champions, age-long foes,

At last must come to a conclusive close.

"Defiled with honourable dust they roll,

Still breathing strife, and unsubdued of soul;

Again they rage, again to combat rise,"—

For one must win; these cannot share the prize.

Great GLADSTONIDES—place allow to age!—

A chief of seasoned strength and generous rage,

Fell, at their last encounter, to the skill

Of him the swart of look, the stern of will,

Broad-shouldered SALISBURION. Such defeat

Valiant and vigorous veteran well might fret.

He erst invincible, the Full of Days,

The Grand Old One, full-fed with power and praise.

ACHILLES-NESTOR, to no younger foe,

Because of one chance slip and casual throw,

The Champion's Belt is ready to resign;

Nor may his foe the final fall decline.

So "Greek meets Greek" in wrestling rig once more.

Not AJAX or ULYSSES sly of yore,

Nor modern STEAD MAN, JAMESON, or WEIGHT,

Was e'er more eager for the sinewy fight.

Much time is spent in "getting into grips."

Mark how each wrestler crouches, feints, and slips!

Mark how they circle round and round the ring,

Like wary "pug," like tiger on the spring,

Cautious as one, though as the other bold,

Eye, foot, and hand manoeuvring for a hold!

And when indeed they close in mutual clutch,

And put the champion honours to the touch,

Strain every muscle, try each latest "chip,"

Which man shall first relax his sinewy grip,

Be hiped, back-heeled, cross-buttocked, or bored down,—

That's just the question that now stirs the town.

The funeral games of a dead Parliament

Bring every hero eager from his tent:

Say, will ULYSSES, for his art renown'd,

O'erturn the strength of AJAX on the ground?

Or will the strength of AJAX overthrow

The watchful caution of his artful foe?

Will SALISBURION fairly hold his own,

Or be by white-lock'd GLADSTONIDES thrown?

All ask, all wonder much, but who may say?

"Another story" that, and for another day!