“KISMET”!!!
Of what is he musing, this adipose man,
By opiate fumes enshrouded?
Of the Russian’s hate, of the Briton’s ban? Of the mustered Powers and their boasted plan? Of his day of grace and its shortening span?
Of the future trouble-clouded?
Or thinks he, smiling a greasy smile, And winking slily a furtive wink,
Of the large resources of Ottoman guile? Kismet! Calm on Convulsion’s brink,
What doth the fat Fate-worshipper think? Toad-like, a-squat at the Eastern gate Of worried Europe, he sits and sits,
While Statesmen weary and rack their wits. Kismet! Surely a full-paunched Fate,
That Jupiter-Scapin might own as master,
Must be that Fate which the Turk invokes Whilst he stolidly perches, serenely smokes, On the innermost edge of disaster.
The old non possumus comes once more
In a wheezy whisper, half sneer, half snore. From the moony Mussulman’s three-chinn’d throat. Conference? Treaty? Collective Note? Pellets pelted at Behemoth’s hide!
Greece may threaten and Goschen chide, But Vis inertiœ’s victor still,
A sullen challenge to Europe’s will!
What does ho mutter amidst the smoke Is it tragic menace or cynic joke?
“Beaconsfield carved and Gortschakoff sliced (Bring me sherbet sublimely iced! )
Consolidation brought naught but trouble. (Ho! Slave, fresh charge me my hubble-bubble! ) Now, Sadonallah, we’ll stick like logs,
And brave the wrath of the Infidel dogs! ”
But the powder’s stored and the train is laid;
Will the Kismet-worshipper wait the torch? Must the banded Powers through bloodshed wade
To Othman’s seat at the Eastern porch?
Doth a stark fierce demon of wrath yet lurk In the sodden soul of the sluggard Turk
That shall break in a fury of fatalist zeal And put the quarrel to test of steel?
Or, awed by Europe’s menacing frown,
Will the Ottoman coon at once come down?
“EХ FUMO DARE LUCEM! ”
Poor Vesuvius! What next? First, invaded by a “Funicular
Railway — (Punch’s Line it ought to be called) — up to the very edge of the seething abyss; and now, for the lurid and awful light of thine own central fountains of stored-up fire, and the red rivers of lava that they give with it, we are promised the illumination of cone and crater by the Electrio Light!
As in the days of “Simpson and the Royal Property, ” London used to he electrified by the announcement of 20, 000 additional lamps at Vauxhall on gala nights — we may look out, among the attractions of Cook’s tours and Gaze’s excursions, for the announcement — “Vesuvius! Personally-conducted Eruption! Warranted harmless! New Craters, on advantageous terms! Lava laid on by
private pipe, in directions to suit Parties making arrangements beforehand. Grand Gala night! Throe extra Electric Lamps!!! ”
Poor Volcano! — “How art thou Cockneyfied!”
Mem by a Member.
(Apropos of the Compensation for Disturbance Bill. )
Disturbance? Eugh! If they’ve their wicked will,
They ’ll upset every interest in the Nation; Bill Gladstone is the true “Disturbance Bill, ”
In whom, alas I there is no compensation. ”
A HOST IN HERSELF.
Mrs. Polkimore Hopkins (who has been asked to bring one or two “dancing young men with her). “This is only a first Instalment, dear Mrs. Jenkinson! There are plenty more coming! ”
Of what is he musing, this adipose man,
By opiate fumes enshrouded?
Of the Russian’s hate, of the Briton’s ban? Of the mustered Powers and their boasted plan? Of his day of grace and its shortening span?
Of the future trouble-clouded?
Or thinks he, smiling a greasy smile, And winking slily a furtive wink,
Of the large resources of Ottoman guile? Kismet! Calm on Convulsion’s brink,
What doth the fat Fate-worshipper think? Toad-like, a-squat at the Eastern gate Of worried Europe, he sits and sits,
While Statesmen weary and rack their wits. Kismet! Surely a full-paunched Fate,
That Jupiter-Scapin might own as master,
Must be that Fate which the Turk invokes Whilst he stolidly perches, serenely smokes, On the innermost edge of disaster.
The old non possumus comes once more
In a wheezy whisper, half sneer, half snore. From the moony Mussulman’s three-chinn’d throat. Conference? Treaty? Collective Note? Pellets pelted at Behemoth’s hide!
Greece may threaten and Goschen chide, But Vis inertiœ’s victor still,
A sullen challenge to Europe’s will!
What does ho mutter amidst the smoke Is it tragic menace or cynic joke?
“Beaconsfield carved and Gortschakoff sliced (Bring me sherbet sublimely iced! )
Consolidation brought naught but trouble. (Ho! Slave, fresh charge me my hubble-bubble! ) Now, Sadonallah, we’ll stick like logs,
And brave the wrath of the Infidel dogs! ”
But the powder’s stored and the train is laid;
Will the Kismet-worshipper wait the torch? Must the banded Powers through bloodshed wade
To Othman’s seat at the Eastern porch?
Doth a stark fierce demon of wrath yet lurk In the sodden soul of the sluggard Turk
That shall break in a fury of fatalist zeal And put the quarrel to test of steel?
Or, awed by Europe’s menacing frown,
Will the Ottoman coon at once come down?
“EХ FUMO DARE LUCEM! ”
Poor Vesuvius! What next? First, invaded by a “Funicular
Railway — (Punch’s Line it ought to be called) — up to the very edge of the seething abyss; and now, for the lurid and awful light of thine own central fountains of stored-up fire, and the red rivers of lava that they give with it, we are promised the illumination of cone and crater by the Electrio Light!
As in the days of “Simpson and the Royal Property, ” London used to he electrified by the announcement of 20, 000 additional lamps at Vauxhall on gala nights — we may look out, among the attractions of Cook’s tours and Gaze’s excursions, for the announcement — “Vesuvius! Personally-conducted Eruption! Warranted harmless! New Craters, on advantageous terms! Lava laid on by
private pipe, in directions to suit Parties making arrangements beforehand. Grand Gala night! Throe extra Electric Lamps!!! ”
Poor Volcano! — “How art thou Cockneyfied!”
Mem by a Member.
(Apropos of the Compensation for Disturbance Bill. )
Disturbance? Eugh! If they’ve their wicked will,
They ’ll upset every interest in the Nation; Bill Gladstone is the true “Disturbance Bill, ”
In whom, alas I there is no compensation. ”
A HOST IN HERSELF.
Mrs. Polkimore Hopkins (who has been asked to bring one or two “dancing young men with her). “This is only a first Instalment, dear Mrs. Jenkinson! There are plenty more coming! ”