Solyman Brown is the author of probably the world's only epic poem on dentistry. There is more on him in the book, but since publication I have managed to track down some more excerpts from this wonderful work, and some more bibliographical information.
The Dentologia, which is subtitled 'A Poem on the Diseases of the teeth and their Proper Remedies with Notes, Practical, Historical, Illustrative and Explanatory,' runs for some 54 pages. There may be some people who think that the topic of dental hygiene is not particularly exciting. But Solyman overcomes this image problem with a series of dramatic vignettes.
Here he warns against the perils of gluttony, or 'gormand-folly' as he terms it:
Whatever wealth and false refinement reign,
The pampered appetites compose their train
Remotest climes supply the varied feast,
But wisdom never comes it welcome guest
The gormand-folly bids the poison pass,
And drains destruction from the circling glass.
The harmless flock, to cruel slaughter led,
Crowns high the board ; for this the herd has bled,
For this, the gay musicians of the grove,
Suspend forever all their songs of love
Earth air, and ocean, each its part supplies
Of sentient life, to swell the sacrifice ;
As though some fiend had sketched the darkest plan
Of bloody banquet for the monster-man !
But nature, sure to vindicate her cause,
Avenges each transgression of her laws
Beware, rash man ! - for every nice offence,
Shall meet, in time a dreadful recompense;
Nor flight can save - nor necromantic art,
Nor dex'trous strategems elude the smart -
For, lo, in fearful shapes, a haggard band
Of fell diseases, wait at her command.
'Tis thus derangement pain, and swift decay,
Obtain in man their desolating sway,
Corrupt his blood, infect his vital breath,
And urge him headlong to the shades of death.
No more his checks with flushing crimson glow;
No more he feels the sanguine current flow;
But quenched and dim his sightless eyeballs roll,
Nor meet one star that gilds the glowing pole !!"
He also introduces characters, designed to illistrate the dire peril of neglecting one's teeth. The charmingly-named Urilla, though fair of form, has a set of gnashers that bring terror to her suitor's heart:
When first I saw her eyes, celestial blue,
Her cheeks' vermilion, and the carmine hue,
That melted on her lips : - her auburn hair
That floated playful on the yielding air ;
And then that neck within those graceful curls,
Molten from Cleopatra's liquid pearls;
I whispered to my heart : - we'll fondly seek
The means, the hour, to hear the angel speak;
For sure such language from those lips must flow,
As none but pure and seraph natures know.
'Twas said - 'twas done - the fit occasion came,
As if to quench betimes the kindling flame
Of love and admiration : - for she spoke,
And lo, the heavenly spell forever broke,
The fancied angel vanished into air,
And left unfortunate Urilla there :
For when her parted lips disclosed to view,
Those ruined arches, veiled in ebon hue,
Where love had thought to feast the ravished sight
On orient gems reflecting snowy light,
Hope, disappointed, silently retired,
Disgust triumphant came, and love expired!
And yet, Urilla's single fault was small;
If by so harsh a name 'tis just to call
Her slight neglect : but 'tis with beauty's chain,
As 'tis with nature's : sunder it in twain
At any link, and you dissolve the whole,
As death disparts the body from the soul.
And in the end, a ruined singing career is rescued by the marvels of modern dentistry:
Yet, in that choir that sung the morning song,
One vacant seat afflicts the listening throng;
One well known voice, admired so oft before,
For sweetest melody, is heard no more.
Is Seraphina dead, whose melting strains
Had won the hearts of all the neighboring swains?
Or does she now forsake the house of prayer,
And spurn her venerable pastor's care?
Unjust suspicion ! tarnish not her fame,
Nor let reproach attaint her spotless name
For while her mellow voice obeyed her will,
She fondly lingered, our musician still;
And though by cruel fate compelled to part,
She leaves us all the homage of her heart,
To lonely solitude she gives her hours,
In shady copse, or shadier garden-bowers
In silent grief, and unconsoled she pines,
And scarce to heaven's high will her soul resigns.
For, lo, the heavenly music of her lip
So sweet, the laboring bees might stop to sip,
Has passed away discordant notes succeed,
And Seraphina's bosom lives to bleed.
"Ye ask the cause : by premature decay,
Two of her dental pearls have passed away;
The two essential to those perfect strains,
That charm the soul when heavenly music reigns.
But fly, ye swains, to Seraphina fly,
And bid her fastly flowing tears be dry
Haste to her cottage, where in vain she seeks
To wipe the burning deluge from her checks;
And when ye find her, sooth her frantic mind,
And bid her cast her sorrows to the wind;
In secret whisper this kind truth impart;
There is a remedy : the dental art
Can every varying tone with case restore,
And give thee music sweeter than before!
Thus, to desponding man, in life's dark way,
The angel, mercy points the opening day;
And through the tear that trembles in his eye,
Reveals the glories of her kindred sky."
The Dentologia remains his triumph. Like his teeth, it will never be capped. After all, many poems make you smile. But only Solyman's inspires you to brush your teeth.
