"WOT! 'ALLOWED' TO MEET IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE ON
SATURDAYS, SUNDAYS, AND BANK 'OLIDAYS, ARE WE!!"
SECOND CITIZEN. "THEN WE JUST WON'T GO!! HE-HEH!!"]
* * * * *
THE BATTLE OF THE BARDS;
_OR, THE LISTS FOR THE LAURELS._
FYTTE THE SECOND.
"Wire in, my warblers!" PUNCHIUS cried. "To 'wire,'
Though slangy, sounds appropriate to the Lyre."
Then forth there toddled with the mincing gait
Of some fair "Tottering Lily," him, the great
New Bard of Buddha! Grave, and grey of crest.
'Tis he illumes the nubibustic West
With the true "_Light of Asia_"--or, at least,
Such simulacrum of the effulgent East
As shineth from a homemade Chinese lantern.
No HAFIZ he, or SAADI, yet he _can_ turn
Authentic Sanscrit to--Telegraphese,
And make the Muse a moon-faced Japanese.
Leaderesque love of gentle gush and "Caps.,"
Is blent in him with fondness for the Japs.
"Wah! wah! futtee!--wah! wah, gooroo!" he cried,
And twanged his tinkling orient lyre with pride.
THE MOANING OF THE BARDS.
No moaning of the _bards_! A pleasant quip!
No manufactured gloom to dim that far light!
Of dirge's luxury deprive my lip?
So suns might say there shall be no more starlight!
Lamping is _not_ required at day's full noon,
Lanterns _are_ out of place in dawn's fair flush-light;
But when dark night sets in, and there's no moon,
There is a chance for stars, or even a rushlight.
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