AT THE SIGN OF THE SPHINX

At the
Sign of the SPHINX

BY CAROLYN WELLS

“Heyday a Riddle! Neither good nor bad!”
King Richard III. iv. 4.

SECOND SERIES

colophon

NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY
1906

	PAGE
AT THE SIGN OF THE SPHINX	1
ANSWERS	126

At the Sign of the Sphinx
Second Series

[Clicking on the number of the riddle will link to the answer.
(note of etext transcriber.)]

1

THE time has come. The waiting populace
Breathlessly watch him as he slowly mounts
The scaffold. Though his timid, trembling steps
Betoken fear, with calm and steady gaze
He sees my whole above his head. So bright!
So glittering! On that his eyes are fixed.
Garbed all in white, a rope about his waist,
My first upon his feet; silent, although
He suffers agonies untold. But hark!
He calls for drink. By some kind hand is passed
To him a brimming tumbler, and within
He sees my last and he is glad. He drinks,
Then once again turns to my whole. Brave man!
He fears not death, but murmurs to himself:
“This only I desire, that when I die
Men say I did my work and did it well.”

2

THE scene was merry, bright and gay
As I came to my first one day.
Beside my last I saw a lass
Dispense refreshment in a glass.
She was my first. “My last,” said I,
“I ’ll take a drink, for I am dry.”
Smiling, as she the goblet passed,
She said, “Here you my first my last.”
“My whole,” said I, “ere I depart,
I ’ll say that there is in my heart
(Just here the word must be reversed—)
A wish for your my last my first.”

3

MY first is now before us, my second is here too;
My whole is now here also,—and yet that ’s not quite true.
My first is,—no, what is it? That is for you to say;
And where ’s my second, tell me, yes, tell me that, I pray,
And I will tell you truly, that though you look around,
You cannot see my whole because it ’s nowhere to be found.

4

THE dusky shadows deepened and the night was drawing on,
A weary maiden watched my dying first, so nearly gone;
She mused awhile in silence, then to herself she spake,
“Ah, me, but when to-morrow dawns I know my first will break.”

The youth rode on. Like Scott’s brave knight he stayed not for my last;
He lingered not, nor faltered, but pressed onward hard and fast.
Alas! he took the downward course with many dangers rife;
But just in time he used my last and so he saved his life.

My whole, by artists painted and by poets often sung,
Thou hast across the Orient thy royal banners flung.
Thy wonders and thy glories we travel miles to see,
And the benighted wanderer oft sighs in vain for thee.

5

MY first, thou ’rt beautiful. Thy noble brow,
Thy curving mouth, and straight and classic nose,
All, all are dear to me. And though thou hast
But scanty raiment, though both arms are gone,
And though some toes are missing, even thus,
To those who know thee and who love thee well,
Thou art a thing of beauty and a joy.

An ancient poet, famous for his lyre,
With death was threatened by some wicked rogues.
Courageously escaping from their clutch,
He rode triumphantly upon my whole,
Swiftly propelled and balanced by my last.

6

MY first in childhood is unknown,
To us ’tis by experience shown;
It has a prominent position
Wherever there ’s an Exhibition.

My last, though old and like to die,
Perhaps possessing but one eye;
Are of small value, people say,
And pass them carelessly each day.
D stands for them, and I have found
Them often in the common pound.

My whole, men struggle to control,
And with my last they meet my whole.

7

MY first, although of use to men
Is scarcely worth a stiver;
But when a twin, it cannot then
Be managed by a driver.

My first ’s my second and my third,
A thread is wound around it;
I lost it once, and on my word,
’T was by my whole I found it.

8

MY first is a letter in juxtaposition;
My second ’s a letter in Syro-Phœnician;
My third is a letter in fanfaronade;
My fourth is a letter in rhodomontade;
My fifth is a letter in comicalness;
My whole combines gain and desirableness.

9

MY first was a hapless queen
Who died one day in Spring;
My first might stand before an Earl
But never before a King.

My second is Erin’s luck,
The end of all success;
My third is a Scandinavian god
Who succoured those in distress.

Scientists disagree
About the immortal soul;
But Evolution seems to prove
We ’re descended from my whole.

10

MY first was into prison cast,
An angel made my first my last.
My first was hanged; with silent tread
The mourners came to view the dead.
Fair Enid, so the legends say,
Upon my total rode away.

11

MY powerful first, thou standest in thy stall,
Many a man is held beneath thy thrall;
And men for thee will fortunes gladly spend,
And yet by man thou ’rt bound and boxed and penned.
He stamps upon thee, puts thee on the rack,
And markest thee with stripes across thy back.

My second, goodly joys thou canst convey,
Gladly we take thy round from day to day;
Made of coarse clay, and often underbred,
Dear to the heir, yet buried with the dead.

My whole, what honored titles thou hast borne,
Designed for use, thou also dost adorn;
Allowed to roam, yet kept within the bound,
By thine assistance oft the lost is found.

12

WHEN out from the clouds the sun had burst,
My first of the people went to my first.

My second and third may be covered with sod,
And one in each town is given to God.

My whole is a dire and terrible deed
Of which in History we may read.

13

’T WAS not my whole,—and yet the King was there.
A fate hung in the balance. Suddenly
My second fell! A burning flush of shame
Showed on the man’s pale face. He looked aghast,
And cried, “I can’t retract, but I confess
My fault, and beg forgiveness of my first.”

14

WHEN at an inn I stopped to dine
Mine host brought out some rare old wine,
It was a bottle of his best,
My first and second it possessed,
In peace I ate and drank my fill,
Then asked the waiter for my bill,
My whole was charged! I looked quite blank,
My whole I neither ate nor drank.

15

I HAD two gardeners who to work were loath,
But straightway to my first I sent them both.
Such lazy fellows! Yet I must admit
A lazier one could be,—my second ’s it.
The ancients’ art my whole doth represent,
A perfect figure softly curved and bent.

16

HENRY the Eighth grew tired of life
With Catherine, his lawful wife.
But for divorce he ’d no decree;
Enraged, the King cried, “One, two, three!”

But soon my first gave up her soul,
Her body was no more my whole.

17

A SAD, mad maiden, with a fair, sweet face
Offered my first, and called it herb of grace.

My last is made of common clay, but then
He ’s liked extremely by his fellow-men.

When I would seek instruction for my soul,
I take my prayer-book down and read my whole.

18

ONE gained and kept the foremost place,
And by my first he won the race.

My second is exceeding black
And often follows after Jack.

In old mythology we read
My whole was served by Ganymede.

19

AN old philosopher was my last,
And his wife was my first in the distant past.

Select two sticks that are smooth and straight,
Lay them with care and precision great,
One north and south, one east and west,
They are my whole, it must be confessed.

20

TO the grandest of monarchs that ever was seen
My first was presented by Sheba’s fair queen.

Far, far away back in the ages long past,
According to science, the earth was my last.

My whole, on a rock, is reputed to be
A danger encountered by sailors at sea.

21

A WISE old proverb advises all
To catch my last if my first should fall.
A poet, who with genius glowed,
Wrote to my whole a famous ode.

22

MY last are celebrated, noted, learned:
Some will not come for years, and some are gone—
Ah, never to return. And only one
We may with truthfulness assert, exists.
And yet my first can buy them, eat them too,
And set them if he choose; and upon one
Of them he may perhaps send forth my whole;
Or on it may perhaps inscribe my whole;
Or on my whole he may inscribe my last.

23

WHETHER in winter’s cold or summer’s heat
My lady trails my first along the street.

My second figures in a certain nine;
One of a celebrated Roman line.

Scientists have a theory that my third
Makes music,—but it never has been heard.

A couple of my whole go to a ball;
And on my whole is room enough for all.

24

MY first is made of clay
And holds a growing palm;
My second brings a day
When all the air seems balm;
My whole is quite a clever feat
Performed by many a young athlete.

25

MY first ’s possessed by men and dogs and goats,
By houses, churches, books and hats and coats.

My second was a maiden young and fair,
Entrusted to a guardian’s watchful care.

He who ’s my whole cannot achieve great fame;
Read my whole backward and it spells the same.

26

MY first, though scrutinized with close inspections
Is found above all human imperfections.
I hold it in my hand,—yet though polite,
’T is of no use to me while in my sight.
But still ’tis felt, and in my secret soul
Upon reflection, I commend my whole.
Now nothing can describe my second better
Than the last part of a well-written letter.
My whole cannot escape his fate so sad,
Tradition tells us all his race goes mad.

27

MY first ’s a sum of money that I have never seen
Though I have earned it often and spent it too, I ween.

When money is my second ’t is often hard to get;
My second is a pretty sight, although it ’s rather wet.

My whole ’s a sad misfortune caused by a summer rain;
It makes much trouble in my first, and goes against the grain.

28

TO Sodom and Gomorrah on the plain
Was sent a fiery storm of brimstone rain;

When o’er the towns the fearful torrent burst,
One was destroyed, the other was my first.

My last we waste and spend, but cannot save;
And on it we ’ll be carried to our grave.

My whole the rich and poor alike may claim,
But soon it will possess another name.

29

TO win my first men struggle all their lives,—
Yet willingly present it to their wives.

The wise man no great fortune has amassed,
But lives his life contented with my last.

An infant is my whole at early age;
And Lot’s wife was my whole on Scripture’s page.

30

MEN travel in my first,
Although perhaps it ’s risky;
My first goes round on wheels,
Though not exactly frisky.

Some may detest charades,
And puzzles may distress them,
But still they must admit
It takes my last to guess them.

Now all that I have said
Is useless in the telling,
Unless you take the word
According to its spelling.

But if you would prefer
A varied information,
We ’ll now divide it up
By its pronunciation.

And then we see my first,
Scaly and sticky-jointed
Upon a rounded base,
And very neatly jointed.

My second then becomes
A horned beast, and hairy;
Or else a lovely lace,
Fit to bedeck a fairy.

When merry Yuletide comes,
And Christmas joys returning,
In the old hall we ’ll sit,
And watch my total burning.

31

THERE was a bachelor in days of old,
Who wished to get himself a wife, we ’re told.

And so desirous of a wife was he,
He started off to London, one, two, three.

He must have found one to delight his soul,
Because soon after they returned my whole.

32

MY first, before the fray had ceased,
Offered my whole for my last beast;
Or Shakespeare tells us so at least.

33

MY first is given and received, a blessing and a bane;
You may buy it at the station, get it gratis on the train;
You may find it in a puppet-booth or in a banquet-hall,
And I think perhaps the Roman is the noblest of them all.

’Twas in my second, long ago, brave men put out to sea;
And at a garden-fête I saw my second flowing free;
And I leaned against my second of strong and solid oak,
But as I grasped my second, alas, it dropped and broke.

My whole at Christmas seasons with holly we entwine;
Upon the old Whig taverns ’t was painted as a sign;
But in its depths lurk dangers, from its floating cakes of ice
To its balmy breath of sugar-cane, its tropic fruits and spice.

34

ONCE I passed through my whole. ’T was beautiful;
’T was like a fairy-land, so gay, so glad,
So free from care and sorrow. For a time
I staid. Yet eagerly desired the day
When I might leave its simple joys. Ah me,
If but I might return to them again!
My first is always in my whole. Sometimes
My first is in my last. When, long ago,
Red Ridinghood on kindly errand bent,
Walked to her grandam’s cot across the wood,
My last was on my first.

35

A SPIRIT rising in the air, continued still to fight;
It was my first, who, when alive, put savage hordes to flight.
And for my total, years had filled the Romans with my last,
And at his grim and ghastly blade the conquerors looked aghast.

36

MY first a well known character on ancient history’s page;
His wooden effigy is sold for youth of tender age.
My second ’s very wicked, and Holy Writ declares
Of those who made my second and the punishing she bears.
My whole hangs from the branching trees,
Swayed lightly by a passing breeze.

37

IN gorgeous splendor, once upon a time
My second reigned in Afric’s sunny clime;
A slave provoked his monarch’s royal ire,
And stood before him under sentence dire.
“My first, my last,” he stammered, “pity me!
Must I obey thy horrible decree?
Oh, thou who over millions hast control—”
One word the magnate uttered, ’t was my whole.

38

GREAT Shakespeare was my first; yet when he died
He left my first. By loving hands his clay
Was laid my second in the tomb. And now
His tombstone to the traveler seems to speak,
And say, “My second! here ’s my first!”
The fair Ophelia, gentle, hapless soul,
Sank to a watery grave beneath my whole.

39

MY first was a scholarly Scotchman of note,
Discourses and essays he learnedly wrote,
My second was found in the post, such a scrawl!
That letter never was opened at all.
My third ’s made of flesh and sinew and bone,
My first, I suppose had two of his own;
My whole is a man delightful to folks
Who enjoy reading jocular jingles and jokes.

40

AT my first was my friend.
We went for my last;
I ’d a half-hour to spend,
At my first was my friend;
As we went round the bend
O’er my total we passed.
At my first was my friend,
We went for my last.

41

AH, distinctly I remember
’T was my first and not December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor,

Eagerly I wished the morrow,
Vainly I had sought to borrow
In my last, surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore.

For my whole so rare and radiant,
Whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here forevermore.

42

SAFE from the cold December storm,
I sat by my whole so bright and warm,
When the cry of my first I plainly heard.
My last sprang up without a word;
And panic-stricken, in sudden fright,
We rushed out into the winter night.

43

MEN often strive my first to gain
By strength or skill, by speed or worth;
It causes deepest woe and pain,
It causes also joy and mirth.

I watched a tennis-player serve,
And through the air the ball whizzed fast,
But took an unexpected curve;
The umpire said it was my last.

With thoughtful eyes and puzzled brow,
It is my whole you ’re reading now.

44

BENEATH the Roman Eagle’s glory,
Great Cæsar, famed in song and story,
Triumphant banners floating o’er him,
Carried my Roman first before him.

In springtime days of sunny weather,
When lads and lassies dance together,
Around the May-pole gaily flying,
They are my last, there ’s no denying.

A gallant knight and lovely lady
Were sauntering down a pathway shady;
He offered her, with words beguiling,
My whole, which she accepted, smiling.

45

A SOLDIER of the rebels lay dying in the field;
A brave but sturdy fighter, he could fall but could not yield.
But a comrade stood beside him while his life-blood trickled fast,
And bent, with pitying glances, to wrap him in my last,
Seeking his country’s glory, e’en in the cannon’s mouth.
Though in the midst of bloodshed, my first stood for the South.
The dying soldier faltered as he took his comrade’s hand,
Saying, “Make my whole, my brother, it is my last command.”

46

HOPING my first kind Heaven will send her,
The suppliant prays on bended knee.
Like Little Billee, “young and tender,”
We all desire my last shall be.
So that she might become my whole
God breathed in Eve a living soul.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of At the Sign of the Sphinx. Second series

At the Sign of the SPHINX

At the Sign of the Sphinx Second Series

At the
Sign of the SPHINX

At the Sign of the Sphinx
Second Series