A., Sir) 'twould floor you to say, Sir,
Where, what, in the mischief the source of your charm is!
Say, how _do_ you do it? That Georgian's cue, it,
Compared with your sceptre, is just a mere withy.
You quietly front in with that calm "_Voluntas_,"
(Expressed for our guidance in epigrams pithy)
You hint you can rule us, and guide us, and school us,
"All off your own bat," without Clergy or Minister,
Giving swift gruel to stage-prank, or duel,
Or any thing else _you_ think stupid or sinister.
O Autocrat fateful, we ought to be grateful
For such an infallible, all-potent party,
At _this_ time of day too, to show us the way to--
Wherever you'd lead us, with confidence hearty.
And as for those duffers, your confidence suffers
To tug at the sceptre, with vain thoughts of swaying it,
What can it matter? "The Magnet" can shatter
Their strength; at its pleasure controlling or staying it.
In vain "Blood and Iron," with foes that environ
Your sceptre, smart Press-man, or Socialist spouter,
May struggle together; you hold them in tether,
Or so you proclaim, you, whom foes call "the Shouter."
The pose is imposing, if ere the scene's closing,
The "Little Germania Magnate" gets beaten;
Well, put at the worst, Sir, you are not the first, Sir,
Who playing the Thraso has humble-pie eaten!
* * * * *
"DINNER FORGET.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41