\ &OtherPoem "Yea, in cairiages and in trucks and in automobiles also; in trolley tars, and in every creeping thing." Page 58. oe's AND OTHER POEMS Being the true and authentic Narration of certain notable Games, wherein are set forth many marvelous Good Deeds wrought by the Princeton team ; all done into Verse in the Vulgar Tongue : TO WHICH IS APPENDED Boofe of tfje Chronicles of ttje Cits ^ ^* ^y BY M'CREADY SYKES WITH MANY PICTURES BY Booth Tarkington William B. Pell and Harold Imbrie "And whan this worthy due hath thus_ydon, He took his hoosl and hooni he rood anon, With laurer crowned as a conquerour." THE KNIGHT'S TALK. SECOND EDITION. REVISED AND ENLARGED (uumm Jlrinrrtuu 1803 COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY M'CREADY SYKES. POE'S RUN AND OTHER POEMS; WITH The Rook oj the Chronicles of the Elis. BY M'CREADY SYKES. With many pictures by Booth Tarkington, William B. Pell, and Harold Imbrie. Second Edition, Square Crown 8vo. pp. viii t 9t, $1.50. net. THE CANNON PRESS, PRINCETON, N. J. TO MY MOTHER. TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAGE PREFACE vii POE'S RUN 1 POE'S KICK 13 KELLY'S HIT - 31 STEINWENDER'S CATCH 39 THE BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF THE ELIS - 45 CHAPTER XLIl 47 " x LI 1 1 64 XLIV - 74 THE PENITENT HARVARD GRAD. - - 87 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. It is perhaps superfluous to point out that this small book is put forth with no serious purpose on the part either of the author or the artists. The passing memorabilia of things not important in themselves may be of interest or amusement to those who follow college athletics. Our Yale and Harvard friends ned hardh- be reminded that in the ups and downs of our friendly rivalries those who joyfully celebrate Princeton's victories when it has been Princeton's turn to win, do so in no spirit of boasting. Like Charity, they vaunt not themselves and are not puffed up. May they hope that in contributing this trifle to the folk-lore of athletics, they may follow the Pauline parallel and that of them it may be said that they do not behave unseemly. XOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION. The verses "THE PENITENT HARVARD GRAD" are reprinted by tltf kind permission of the publishers of "LIFE." Vll poe's POE'S RUN; Being ye Ballade of Y e Antiente Prophesye & ye Littel Poe. 12 November, 1898. ODDE'S Blessynge on our noble Lande! Give Bare, good People alle; A rr^ghtye Fyghte I have to tell In Princetoune did befalle. Yale's Feete-Balle Team hath travelled doune In Hose & Jerkyns fyne ; & yeye have s\vorne a myghtye Oathe To crosse ve Princetoune Lvne. POE'S RUN. Y e Princetoune Menne don canvasses Smocques, & Armour on ye Nose, Wythe orange P's across yere Chestes, & Quarterynges on ye Hose. Kynge Hillebrand hys myghtye Hoste Hath mustered on ye Playne ; Palmer & Wheeler, Ayres & Booth, & more I cannot name. Edwards was there, & Crowdis too, Among ye valiante Knyghtes; Crowdis, whom all ye Classes calle Y e Manne of Seven tye Fyghtes. Kynge Chamberlain uponne ye Grounde Hys azure Gauntlet flynges; "Y e Thynges we'll do unto yon Teame," Quod he, "will not be Thynges! A FIGHT LOOMETH UP. "Yet alle shall play ye Game full fayre, "Nor none shall work foule Hurtc; "For each hath ta'en hys Foeman's Hande, "& wille not doe him Dyrte; c Umpyre heecleth not" "Not such as rageynge 'gainst hys Foe, "Forgetteth Feete-Balle Lawe, "& (when ye Umpyre heedethe not) "Doth paste him in ye Jawe." Y e Menne hath mustered to ye Fyghte; Y e Worlde is there to see; & alle yc People glad rccalle Y e Antiente Proplusye : " Ye Antiente Propbesye' POE'S RUN. Y* Easte may turne again io dust ; Old Northe may crumble loice ; But ivJiyle Grasse growes and Watere runnes Princetoune shall have a Poe. *For Johnson Poe & Peter Poe Hath borne her Bannere hyghe; & John yclept, & lyttell Nat, Hath made y e Elis crye. Soe now when Arthur takes ye Fielde Y e Elis weepeth stronge; & rend yere Cloathes, & crye aloude, "Howe longe, Oh Lord! howe longe?" Y e Menne from Yale hath rushed ye Balle Close to ye Tygeres' Goale; & Princetoune cusseth tylle she ryskes Her Presbyterian Soule. MR. POE APPEARETH INJURED. Againe Yale crashes through ye Lyne; Againe & once againe God wot ! but fifteene Yardes remayne & eke yeye make it tenne! God's Rede! ye furiouse Fyghte is fierce; Y e - ve plunge, & tackle lowe: & in ye Onslaughte on ye Lyne Hath cryppled Arthur Poe! He rubbcs hys Knee & lympethe sore, And str}'venethe with Payne; & Princetoune, quotha "Zounds! 'tis cleare "He cannot playe againe!" "Hath crippled Arthur Poe. 7 FOE'S RUN. Durston hath glaunced a scornfulle Glaunce, & on ye Tygeres turned ; & sayde, with supercilious Smyle, "Y e Prophesye be durned!" Y e valiante Poe, though bent with Payne, For once Chaunce more doth begge; He wotteth welle Jiys Lymbe will last; He pullethe Eli's Legge. &; nowe Yale taketh uppe ye Balle, To consummate ye Cynche. Y e Tygeres fyghte with horrid Frowne, & Eli doth not flvnche. MR. FOE DOTH CASUALLY PROMENADE. " Ye feete ball poppeth out." & never mortale Manne shall knowe How ye Thynge came aboute But from yt close-pressed Masse of Menne Y e Feete-Balle poppeth oute ! & Poe hath rushed within ye Breach e Towards Erthe one Second kneeled, He tuckes ye Balle benethe hys Arme, & saunteres down ye Fielde. POE'S RUN. v * , From Eli's Lyne a Crye of Kage Doth rende ye quyverrynge Ayre, & all ye Teame with one Accourde Poursueth him for favre. Lyke to a Whyrle-Wynde, swifte McBride Tears downe y e burnynge Course, & cries to Heaven: "A Horse! A Horse! "Mye K^'ngedoume for a Horse! " Poe heares ye crashynge Hostes behynde, Y e weste Wynde fannes hys Face ; \Vhenas, perceivynge of ye Thynge, He quycquenethe hys Pace. Hys eyes on ye dystante Goale ; He lookes behynde him not, But from ye Scripture learned in Youthe Rememberethe Mrs. Lot. 10 SALT HE MAKETH A STRONG FINISH. Y e Multitude doth yelle & shoute; Y e Tumulte fylles ye Ayre ; & Gabriel noteth on hys Sleeve "Y e Welkin needs Repayre." Y e Elis tears in fierce Pursuite ; But Poe eludes yem alle; He rushes 'twixt ye quyverrynge Postes, & sytteth on ye Balle. Soe, in ye Mannere here writ doune, Did Princetoune wynne ye Fyghte; & Yale hath made a mentale Note, "Y e Prophesye's all ryghte." & Edgar Allan Poe ye Greate Y e Wrytere of sweet Prose & Poesie henceforth is called, Y e Uncle of ye Poes. POE S RfJX. & toe ye Lytanye in Churche Y e Elis addeth, thus; "From alle yt damned Trybe of Poes, " Goode Lorde deliver us." POE'S KICK. 13 POE'S KICK; Being ye Ballade of Y e Holye Manne & y e Sorroughynge Youthe. 25 November, 1 S99. HOLYE Manne hys merrie Chaunte Adoune ye Roade he svnges; & wynkes & blynkes & thynkes of Drynkcs And synges of Kynges & Thynges. And as he strolled adoune ye Roade Y- vs antiente Confessoure, He met a Youthe that \vrunge hys Handrs And beate hvs Breste full sore. POE'S KICK. "Oh! sorroughynge Youthe, come tell me true, "What vexethe of yye Soule?" Quod he, "Alas! my Synne is greate, "Good Fathere! make me whole." "& haste thou lookt upon ye Cuppe, "Or drunke of dyvers Drynkes? "Or haste thou been speke Truthe, my Sonne " Profane upon ye Lynkes?" " My ftyane is Great." 16 FALLING FROM GRACE. "Nay, Fathere, I have drunke no Wyne, "Nor yet partooke of Beere; ''Nor any Wordes have spake at Golfe "Unfit for thee to heare. ' Nor yet partooke of Beere." "But heavye, heavye is mye Soule, "& sad mye Harte within; " For I have uttered in ye Churche ' ' An awful Prayere of Sy nne. " Noue by my Neckerchefe of blue, "(Oh! lysten to my Tayle ) "Thou knoweste, Fathere, Woe is me! "I am a Sonne of Yale!" ' Y e Sonnes of Yale I know full well, "& orthodox is Yale; 1 She holdethe true ye Hystorye "Of Jonah & ye Whale." 17 "She holdeth true ye Hystorye "Ot Jonah & ye Whale." POE'S KICK. " Yea, orthodox \ve doubtless be, "As many Bookes may prove; "Yet we have synned, one and alle, "& broke ye La we of Love. "For alle last Yeare, each Sabbath Daye, "In Churche we pra^el thus "From all yt damned Trybe of Poes, " ' Goode Lorde, deliver us!' " "Oh Youthe! & thou didst wrong to curse; "A synfulle Prayere, I ween ; "Mark well ye pious Rule layde doune "In Romans xii, 14." It'AXS AXD Rt'MOL T RS OF WARS. " But heavye had ye Race of Poes "Afflicted us full sore; "& for yt wyckede Pravere noue Heaven "Hath vexede us some more. "Since Poe hys Runne a yeare had passed; "& to retreeve yt Daye "We challenge Princetoune to our Gates ''To meet ir. bloodye Frave. "Y e Fyghte \vas fierce, and lusty lye "Y e rampante Tygeres played; " & ere ye Game was scarce begun "A Tom-he-Doune had ycye made. POZ'S KICK. "But nevere daunted, faste and fierce "Oure Teame } r e Foe assayle; "Beholde, we blocke yere frustrate Kycke, "& score fyve Poyntes for Yale. "And noue oure Shoute of Tyumphe loude "We swell, and telle fulle welle; "Nor quelle ye Yelle, but yelle lyke Helle, "& felle pelle-melle on Pell. "Ryghte well doth Pell ye Yelle repelle, "Y e Score proclaymes our Fyxe, " & while quycke Lyckes myx thycke with Kyckes "Stylle styckes at fyve to syx. "& noue our valiant Freshman Sharpe "Brynges Baulme untoe oure Soule, "When from ye Myddel of ye Field "He kyckcs a myghtye Goalei THE STRENUOUS LIFE. "& alle our Menne in glad Acclayme "Give forthe a myghtye Cheere, '& offere Oddes upon ye Game "Of Champagne 'gainst ye Beere." "What nexte? What nexte? Make Haste, fayre Youthe! "I must away to Masse;" "Lo! Reiter makethe twentye Yardes "Upon a double Passe. "Soe faste ye Game, soe furious "Soe fierce ye Fyghte & sore, " Y e Tygeres fallethe one by one "& ryseth uppe noe more. "I must away to Masse.' "Great Hillebrand from off ye Fielde "By very Force yeye pulle "Greate Doc, who struck three Elis oute, "With alle ye Bases fulle. 21 POE'S KICK. "Noue Palmer falles; noue Wheeler dies; 'Xoue Booth & Reiter go; "Of ye fyrste Teame none noue remavnes "But Edwards, Pell & Poe." "Swete Youthe, I wot Yale had ye Cynche "When yus ye Tygeres fell!" "Nay, Fathere! playne thou haste not hearde "Y e Tayle at Yale yeye telle. "Houe, when yeye teache ye Algebra, . Y US doe yeye wryte it doune "Y 1 greater is fyve Feete of Poe "Yn Harvard square plus Broune. GAUDEAMUS! ''When Yale falles backe toe catche ye Puntes "Poe dartes rounde cure Defense, "& maketh Fincke exceedynge close "Resemble $.30. "Y e Tygeres playe ye better Game, "But uot enough toe score, "& for we helde yem o'er and o'er, "Forbore toe score for more. "But noue ye Fyghte is almost done; "Y e Sonne in Glorye sets; "& in swete Fauncye eke \ve spende " Y e Precedes of our Bettes. "Y e Game is noue ye same as wonne; "Y e Tygeres hold ye Balle; "But lyttel Good yeye gayne therebye; "Y e J' e cannot score at alle. V ^X X. ^^ 23 POE'S KICK, "Wythe thyrtye yards to Eli's Goale; "Ye Tygeres feele smalle Joye; "Y e Dystance loonies as vast as from " Schenectadye toe Tro}-e. il Scarce thyrtye Secondes yet remayne; "We sygnale for ye Hackes "When suddenlye a sycklye Chylle " Pervadithe of our Backes. "For Edwards eke demands a Kycke, "& lo! ye fatal Tune, "When Poe replies, "'fie Tt 24 A BLUE TIGER. 25 POE'S KICK. "Then quycke our Handes we claspe in Prayere "&softylye whyspere thus "'Noue from }-t damned Trybe of Poes, ' ' ' Goode Lorde, deliver us ! "'Goode Lorde, deliver us! Goode Lorde' yeye p asse y e Balle bt-lowe; " ('Twas lowe, and soe 'twas apropos "Untoe ye Toe of Poe). "Y e Mathematic Professoure "Lookes doune, and cries, 'Ha! Ha! ^ "'To kycke ye Goale Poe needes must make '"A true Parabola. Ye ^Inthemfitic J'rofessourt"