Editorial
Stop my Vitals! Such Times, such Mores! Yet dispite the late Unciuil Disturbances, as Rake-Hells & Rantipoles, Dabs & Damme-Boys, Coves & Snudges & Moon-men, &c., makeing Hurly-Burly on the High Street, in rank cloying Dispoylement of Moveables from the Citie Emporiums, thence to scurry off with Loot & Booty, leaving behind them smoaking Ruin & Rauishment; nevertheless, our Lady of Poets, the Sovereigne Muse, glydeth on in Her swete serene Progress, beyond such crasse sub-Lunary Tourbillions and Turbulencies. I ply my Quill-borde to compose this Editorial on this 13th Day of Avgust, which the Auncient Romans styled the Ides of Sextilis, holding it sacred to (inter alia) the Camenae, whom they counted as their own true Muses, & celebrated at their Groue hard by the Porta Capena. Now, these Camenae are manifestations of Holie Carmenta, Carmena, or Carmina, Goddess of Lyric Song, the Same to whom this humble FLEA payes homage on the Banner-hede of his Broadsheete; with the motto, Hymnus Carminī, an offering of Song to Carmina, proudly emblazon’d theron.
Let Rioters to Emporia haue gone; let Hood-Rattes ransacke Trash & Vanitie; let us possess One Muse, & honour Her yet. Thus this FLEA, under Carmina’s diuine Tutelage, unwaueringly still offers such glorious and incisiue Song, as may diuerte the Minde from dusty sadde Imbroglio; witness Mistress Cathy Chandler’s exquisite measures, so delicately sounded in her ‘Chasubles’; or Mistress Nausheen Eusuf’s poignant & ætherial ‘Valediction’; or Master Martin Elster’s tunefulle ‘A Summer Songster’; or Mr. Geoff Page’s finely-modulated tribute to the modeste Enabler of Apollo’s cascading Numbers, ‘Turners of Pages’. Nay, but I will not enumerate seuerally each sweet Delighte of Poetry & Witte, as may be discouer’d within these Psyllophilous Walles of liuing Jette: let the Reader Herselfe, or (it may be) Himself, surueie at Wille these Ælectronickal Broadsheetes, encountering therein each freshe melodious Pleasance. But I would be negligent indeed, were I not to point out & commend to the gentle Reader, Mistress Angela France’s fine accomplish’d Sonet, ‘Being Bertalda’, which was written at the request of the Curator of the Holst Museum, for a declamatory reading there.
Nota Bene: The disreputable Countrie Couzins of The Mightie FLEA, those craz’d intemp’rate Editors of The Shit Creek Reuiew, haue, vpon scanning Mr. Ed Shacklee’s prophetickal uisionary uerses, ‘The Four Horsemen’, late announc’d that The End of the World is Nigh; in celebration of whiche Euent they propose to devize an issue of that Journal, which will be deuoted to the Theme of Apocalypse, or, The End of Dayes. Poets aspiring to contribute verses penn’d on this Eschatologickal Theme, should consult The Shit Creek Reuiew’s Submission Advizements, which may be discouer’d ætherickally at http://shitcreek.auszine.com/issue14/issue14index/submissions/ ; but do so, marke you, entirely at your Peril; for Yr H’ble & Obd’t utterly disclaimes all Responsibilitie whateuer for any ill thing that may transpire from dealings with so villainous & lunatique a Canting Crewe.
