Tell me, doth the glucose shine Howsoe'er it be, I fear, Made of Something, you are queer! Free Press Flashes, 1882. ZOEDONE. "Zoedone is a tonic, no doubt about it; but being rather sweetish, it must be thoroughly iced; then-put a liqueur glass of brandy into a small tumbler of Zoe, and, if you like shandygaffian sort of drinking, you will find this, what the leading Counsel finds his occasional fifty guineas, a gentle and agreeable Refresher. Solvitur drink-no-endo. Verb. sap. We dedicate to Zoedone this Byronic verse": MADE of something, ere we part, Punch, September 18, 1880. "BEAUTIFUL FOR EVER." MADAM RACHEL, ere we smash, Hear my vow before I go, Upon my life, I'll sue you ! By these powdered tresses fine, By these soft cheeks' blooming rouge; By this lip he longed to taste; By this zone-encircled waist; 66 By dear William's " quenched love, All the cash, and let me go! Every nerve this system shocks, Judy, June 24. 1868. No! Madam Rachel, oh dear, no! CALF'S HEART, MAID of all work as a part Heart of calf we'll cook thee so. Buy, to price you're not confined- Maid of all work, when 'tis done, Heart of calf, I'll eat thee so. Punch, January 1852. MAID OF ALL-WORK. (To her Mistress.) UNKIND Missis, e'er the day Speed my willing feet away, Let my injured spirit speak, Prick your conscience, tinge your cheek, Hear my words before I go : If I'm bad, you've made me so. By my weary hours confined To work and dirt and heat combined ; By my ever-lengthening day, By my ever-shortening pay: By the joints I ne'er might taste, Cruel Missis ! never more Shall midnight find my toil scarce o'er- My parting words you'll ne'er forget, If they're bad, you've made them so! From Grins and Groans, Social and Political. MAID OF GANGES. By a Heart-broken Hindoo. MAID of Ganges! thou that art Maharanee of my heart, Rajpootana or Nepaul : Syce or Ayah unto thee ;- To Koot Nerbudda Chundra Singh. Had I mines of gems and gold, Begum's crowns and Nizam's thrones ; Maid of Ganges! thou shalt feast Will Koot Nerbudda Chundra Singh. Maid of Ganges? thou shalt wear A Tuggaree twined in thy hair, Maid of Ganges! dost thou love Maid of Ganges! thou dost lave As beneath thine eyes they bask The Etonian, February 15, 1884. The following verses were said to have been copied from an intercepted post card : JOE, my Joseph, ere we part, Ere you break an old man's heart, Ιώη μοῦ, σᾶς ἀγαπῶ. Leave, oh leave us not alone; Even those I reckon true : If with us you'll only stay, St. James's Gazette, March 22, 1886. (Mr. Joseph Chamberlain had just resigned his seat in the Cabinet.) :0: I WOULD I WERE A CARELESS CHILD I WOULD I were a careless child, Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave; The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride Accords not with the freeborn soul, Which loves the mountain's craggy side. And seeks the rocks where billows roll Fortune! take back these cultured lands, Take back this name of splendid sound! I hate the touch of servile hands, I hate the slaves that cringe around. Place me along the rocks I love, Which sound to Ocean's wildest roar ; I ask but this-again to rove # Through scenes my youth hath known before. I loved-but those I loved are gone; Had friends-iny early friends are fled : When all its former hopes are dead! How dull to hear the voice of those Whom rank or chance, whom wealth or power, Have made, though neither friends nor fues, Associates of the festive hour. Fortune, take back my house and lands, I want a tipcat in my hands, I want to make the football bound. Give me again tbe "rock" I loved (Ah, it was sold in penny sticks!) Which, in my trousers' pocket shoved, With fluff and marbles used to mix. I loved--but what I loved is gone. Let those who will seek Fortune's track, My hoop, my silkworms, and my string. Whom rank or chance, or wealth or power, Have made, though neither friends nor foes, Associates of the present hour. Give me again my faithful" chums, Who ate my cake and jam at school; Who let me copy off their sums, Then thrashed me 'cause I was a fool. Oh, would my boyhood could return, And raspberry jam, by potfulls, cloys. Life is a weariness, in fact; And could I rid me of its pain, With Fate I'd make a willing pact, And gladly be a boy again. Funny Folks. Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crown'd me, Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted In strife with the storm, when their battles were won- Farewell to thee France !-but when Liberty rallies Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy choice! LORD BYRON. THE BOHEMIAN'S FAREWELL. FAREWELL to the Strand, and my uppermost story, And the lodger made love to his fair daughter lonely, In strife with the p'lice ere my orgies were done! With blackened eyes fixed upon multiplied sun. Farewell to thee, Strand! But when Bankruptcy rallies. E'en yet I may baffle the duns that surround me, :0: NAPOLEON'S FAREWELL. From the French. FAREWELL to the land, where the gloom of my glory I have warr'd with a world which vanquished me only I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely, The last single Captive to millions in war. THE SPELL IS BROKEN. THE spell is broken when we own But lives to find he's caught a tartar. Judy, December 29, 1880, THE WAR SONG OF THE RADICAL PHILHELLENE. (After Lord Byron's translation of a famous Greek War Song.) Sons of the Greeks, our eyes Chorus. Sons of the Greeks! to go Your glorious uprising, Are you aware, my friends? Is gravely jeopardizing Your patrons private ends. With Philhellenic fervour He burns, and so do I, As any close observer May, if he can, descry. Gladly would he, I take it, 'But asking him to father Chorus. Sons of the Greeks, etc. Yet, O ye patriots banded! Sons of the Greeks, I own I've not forgot full surely, I made a bold diversion, And left me up a tree. Chorus. Sons of the Greeks, etc. Well, to correct my blunder, And, after all, there's reason He's not at leisure, is he? Though loath then, I assure you, Sons of the Greeks, dry up! Chorus. Sons of the Greeks, etc. The Saturday Review, April, 1836. 1:0: ENIGMA 'Twas whispered in heaven, 'twas muttered in hell, And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell: On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest, And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed. 'Twill be found in the sphere when 'tis riven asunder, Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder, 'Twas allotted to man with his earliest breath, Attends at his birth, and awaits him in death; It presides o'er his happiness, honour, and health, Is the prop of his house, and the end of his wealth. Without the soldier and seaman may roam, But woe to the wretch who expels it from home. In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found, Nor e'en in the whirlwind of passion be drowned. 'Twill not soften the heart, and tho' deaf to the ear, 'Twill make it acutely and instantly hear, But in shade let it rest, like a delicate flowerOh! breathe on it softly-it dies in an hour. LORD BYRON. A Parody on the above, by Henry Mayhew. I DWELLS in the Herth, and I breathes in the Hair; I resides in a Hattic, and loves not to roam, And yet I'm invariably absent from 'Ome. Tho' 'ushed in the 'Urricane, of the Hatmosphere part, I enters no 'Ed, I creeps into no 'Art; Only look, and you'll see in the Heye I appear, Of Heternity Hi'm the beginning! and mark, THE LETTER H'S PETITION. WHEREAS, I have by you been driven From house, from home, from hope, from heaven, And placed by your most learned society In exile, anguish, and anxiety, And used, without one just pretence, ANSWER. Whereas we've rescued you, Ingrate, From hell, from horse-pond, and from halter, And placed you where you ne'er should be, In honour, and in honesty ; We deem your prayer a rude intrusion, And will not mend our elocution. THE HUMBLE PETITION OF THE LETTER W TO THE INHABITANTS OF LONDON. WHEREAS by you I have been hurled ANSWER. Your prayer is graciously received, We cannot deem you worth our trouble; DRURY-LANE THEATRE. On the 14th of August, 1812, the following advertisement appeared in most of the daily papers : "Rebuilding of Drury-Lane Theatre. "The Committee are desirous of promoting a free and fair competition for an Address to be spoken upon the opening of the Theatre, which will take place on the 10th of October next. They have, therefore, thought fit to announce to the public, that they will be glad to receive any such compositions, addressed to their Secretary, at the Treasury-office, in Drury-Lane, on or before the roth of September, sealed up, with a distinguishing word, number, or motto, on the cover, corresponding with the inscription on a separate sealed paper, containing the name of the author, which will not be opened unless containing the name of the successful candidate." Many addresses were sent in, but the Committee rejected them all, much to the annoyance of the com petitors, who, having expended their time and paper, by the implied engagement on the part of the committee that the best bidder should have the contract, had a right to protest against the injustice of this wholesale rejection. The committee made an absurd engagement; but surely they were bound to keep to it. In the dilemma to which that learned body was reduced by the rejection of all the biddings, they put themselves under the care of Lord Byron, who produced the following: ADDRESS. Spoken at the opening of Drury-Lane Theatre, Saturday, IN one dread night our city saw, and sighed, Ye who beheld (oh! sight admir'd and mourn'd, Dear are the days which made our annals bright, Friends of the stage! to whom both Players and Play Must sue alike for pardon or for praise, *R. B. Sheridan, |