Sinbad, It Was Not Well To Brag

Sinbad, the Barnacle Bill of Araby, Carried upon his back the Old Man of the Sea, Over crag, down ravine, Round and round in a cane-brake green, Tramp, tramp, Under the coconuts, through the swamp, Between the camphors, into the swale Where the upas dropped its blooms of bale— Tangling with the tough rattans, Staggering under the hammers of noon Over the sands Of a steamy lagoon A-crawl with crabs and bêche-de-mer— Lurching through the gamboge glare Of sunset into the damaskeened Twilight where the tree-ferns leaned, Chasing a saffron-bellied moon That swayed like a drunken temple-girl On beaches paved with coral and pearl— Bemoaning his fate Like the sad estate Of a Baghdad porter, a Caliph's flunky— Slipping on rotted mangosteens, Tripping on jades and tourmalines, Sliding on dung of tapir and monkey, Startling the bug-eyed lemur, sending The flying-fox to a farther landing, Nights, days, Half-blind in a clotted haze, Hay-foot, straw-foot, All in an Indonesian Tophet:— Till, seeing the vines that ran Over rock and tree he contrived a plan More clever than rash, And he made in a mighty calabash From the island-grapes a vintage new With bubbles like rubies clustering thick And all the strength of an ostrich-kick; And the old man sipped the sailor's brew And swore by Allah's vicar He had never tasted a better liquor, Then took the calabash in his talons And swigged the pints and swilled the gallons Till even the thickest lees were downed, And the grip of his arms and legs grew slack On Sinbad's back, And he slid at last to the jungle-ground, Happy as a hinny In the clover of June, Soused like a sultan, full as any Tick that drops from a fat baboon. . . . This was the story that Sinbad Told to astonish Hinbad: The story was new, Whether fantastic or true. But, granting that your narration Was free from extravagetion, Sinbad, it was not well to brag At the sunset end of your ocean-road: For others have carried a heavier load On aching shoulders a-sag— A load that they could not lose. My incubus is the classic hag Yclept the Muse.