So they made a point of parting ev'ry husband from his wife
And dividing ev'ry maiden from her lover;
If a workman drooped or sickened they would jab him with a knife,
And then leave him by the roadside to recover.
If he grumbled or grew restive they would amputate a hand,
Just to show him how unsafe it was to blubber,
Till with infinite solicitude they made him understand
The necessity of cultivating "rubber."
And dividing ev'ry maiden from her lover;
If a workman drooped or sickened they would jab him with a knife,
And then leave him by the roadside to recover.
If he grumbled or grew restive they would amputate a hand,
Just to show him how unsafe it was to blubber,
Till with infinite solicitude they made him understand
The necessity of cultivating "rubber."
Thus the merry work progresses, as it must progress forsooth,
While these pioneers are sharp and firm and wary,—
And the Congo is reluctantly compelled to own the truth
Of that motto "Laborare est orare."
Though the Belgians sometimes wonder, on their tenderhearted days,
(When the little children scream as they abduct them),
If the natives CAN supply sufficient rubber to erase
The effect of such endeavours to instruct them
While these pioneers are sharp and firm and wary,—
And the Congo is reluctantly compelled to own the truth
Of that motto "Laborare est orare."
Though the Belgians sometimes wonder, on their tenderhearted days,
(When the little children scream as they abduct them),
If the natives CAN supply sufficient rubber to erase
The effect of such endeavours to instruct them
Tho' within the royal bosom a suspicion there may lurk
That these practices offend the sister-nations,
That one cannot safely advocate "the sanctity of work,"
By a policy of theft and mutilations,—
Yet wherever on the Congo Belgium's banner is unfurled,
Where the atmosphere is redolent and sunny,
I am sure the Monarch's methods must be giving to the world
Some ideas upon the "sanctity of money!"
That these practices offend the sister-nations,
That one cannot safely advocate "the sanctity of work,"
By a policy of theft and mutilations,—
Yet wherever on the Congo Belgium's banner is unfurled,
Where the atmosphere is redolent and sunny,
I am sure the Monarch's methods must be giving to the world
Some ideas upon the "sanctity of money!"
And, if so, I am not boasting when I mention once again
That the Ruler of the Congo has not surely ruled in vain!
That the Ruler of the Congo has not surely ruled in vain!
XV
"BART'S" CLUB
("In my view, the most absolutely perfect club of all would be a club where absolutely every man could get in, it mattered not what he had done in the past."—Bart Kennedy.)
It fills, indeed, a long felt need,
This institution, just arisen;
We notice here that atmosphere
Of restaurant and prison,
Of green-room, gambling-hell, saloon,
Which makes it an especial boon.
This institution, just arisen;
We notice here that atmosphere
Of restaurant and prison,
Of green-room, gambling-hell, saloon,
Which makes it an especial boon.
That member there with close-cropped hair,
Who noisily inhales his luncheon,
His flattened nose has felt the blows
Of many a p'liceman's truncheon;
The premier cracksman of the City,
Is Chairman of our House Committee!
Who noisily inhales his luncheon,
His flattened nose has felt the blows
Of many a p'liceman's truncheon;
The premier cracksman of the City,
Is Chairman of our House Committee!
That bull-necked youth, with fractured tooth,
Discussing Plato with his neighbour,
Returned to-day from Holloway,
And eighteen months' "hard labour";
He's such a gentleman, I think,
—Or would be, if he didn't drink.
Discussing Plato with his neighbour,
Returned to-day from Holloway,
And eighteen months' "hard labour";
He's such a gentleman, I think,
—Or would be, if he didn't drink.
We've thieves and crooks upon our books,
And all the nimble-fingered gentry;
The buccaneer is harboured here,
The "shark" has instant entry.
Blackmail is practised, too, by all,
Who never heard of a black-ball!
And all the nimble-fingered gentry;
The buccaneer is harboured here,
The "shark" has instant entry.
Blackmail is practised, too, by all,
Who never heard of a black-ball!
We gladly take the titled rake,
The bankrupt and the unfrocked parson,
All those whose vice is loading dice,
Or bigamy, or arson.
Most of our pilgrims have pursued
The path of penal servitude.
The bankrupt and the unfrocked parson,
All those whose vice is loading dice,
Or bigamy, or arson.
Most of our pilgrims have pursued
The path of penal servitude.
We've anarchists upon our lists,
While regicides infest the smoke-room;
(The faux-bonhomme who brings a bomb
Must leave it in the cloak-room).
Ink for the forger we provide,
And strychnine for the suicide.
While regicides infest the smoke-room;
(The faux-bonhomme who brings a bomb
Must leave it in the cloak-room).
Ink for the forger we provide,
And strychnine for the suicide.
Each member's name is known to fame,
As "green-goods man" or quack-physician;
We welcome here the pseudo-peer,
Or bogus politician.
Within the shelter of our fold
King Peter greets King Leopold.
As "green-goods man" or quack-physician;
We welcome here the pseudo-peer,
Or bogus politician.
Within the shelter of our fold
King Peter greets King Leopold.
Our doors are barred to Scotland Yard;
And no precautions are neglected.
Come, then, with me, and you shall be
Immediately elected,
To what with confidence I dub
An "absolutely perfect" club!
And no precautions are neglected.
Come, then, with me, and you shall be
Immediately elected,
To what with confidence I dub
An "absolutely perfect" club!
XVI
THE REVIEWER
Pray observe the stern Reviewer!
See with what a piercing look
He impales, as with a skewer,
This unlucky little book!
Note his gestures of impatience,
As he contemplates, perplex'd,
The amazing illustrations
Which adorn the text!
See with what a piercing look
He impales, as with a skewer,
This unlucky little book!
Note his gestures of impatience,
As he contemplates, perplex'd,
The amazing illustrations
Which adorn the text!
Hear him mutter, as his swivel-
Eye converges on the verse,
"Any man who writes such drivel
Must be capable of worse.
Let it be my painful mission,
As a literary man,
To suppress the whole edition,
If a critic can.
Eye converges on the verse,
"Any man who writes such drivel
Must be capable of worse.
Let it be my painful mission,
As a literary man,
To suppress the whole edition,
If a critic can.
"More than tedious ev'ry pome is;
Ev'ry drawing less than true;
Such a trite and trivial tome is
Quite unworthy of review.
On this balderdash no vocal
Praises can my tongue bestow;
To the dust-bin of some local
Pulp-mill let it go!
Ev'ry drawing less than true;
Such a trite and trivial tome is
Quite unworthy of review.
On this balderdash no vocal
Praises can my tongue bestow;
To the dust-bin of some local
Pulp-mill let it go!
"There its paper, disinfected
By some cunning artifice,
Shall be presently directed
To diviner ends than this.
There its pages, expurgated
By some alchemy abstruse,
Shall at length be dedicated
To a nobler use!"
By some cunning artifice,
Shall be presently directed
To diviner ends than this.
There its pages, expurgated
By some alchemy abstruse,
Shall at length be dedicated
To a nobler use!"
Grim, implacable Reviewer,
Do not spurn it with a groan,
Tho' your labours may be fewer
If you leave my books alone!
'Tis the chief of all your duties—
Duties which you strive to shirk—
To discover hidden beauties
In an author's work.
Do not spurn it with a groan,
Tho' your labours may be fewer
If you leave my books alone!
'Tis the chief of all your duties—
Duties which you strive to shirk—
To discover hidden beauties
In an author's work.
Jewels, though perchance elusive,
Crowd this casket of a book;
'Tis your privilege exclusive
For these hidden gems to look.
When you have adroitly caught them,
Their delights you can explain
To a public which has sought them
For so long in vain.
Crowd this casket of a book;
'Tis your privilege exclusive
For these hidden gems to look.
When you have adroitly caught them,
Their delights you can explain
To a public which has sought them
For so long in vain.
Tho' you whelm me with your strictures,
Snubs which one might justly call
(Like the artist's cruel pictures)
The "unkindest cuts of Hall"!
Tho' your sneers be fierce and many,
Honest censure I respect,
And will meekly swallow any-
Thing except neglect.
Snubs which one might justly call
(Like the artist's cruel pictures)
The "unkindest cuts of Hall"!
Tho' your sneers be fierce and many,
Honest censure I respect,
And will meekly swallow any-
Thing except neglect.
Tho' your mouth be far from mealy,
Tho' your pen be dipped in gall,
Criticise me frankly, freely,—
Better thus than not at all!
Up the ladder I have crept un-
Til I reached a middle rung,
Do not let me die "unwept, un-
Honoured and unhung."
Tho' your pen be dipped in gall,
Criticise me frankly, freely,—
Better thus than not at all!
Up the ladder I have crept un-
Til I reached a middle rung,
Do not let me die "unwept, un-
Honoured and unhung."
L'ENVOI
Go, little book, and coyly creep
Beneath the pillows of the blest,
Whence those who seek in vain for sleep
Shall drag thee from thy nest;
That so thy sedative aroma
May lull them to a state of coma.
Beneath the pillows of the blest,
Whence those who seek in vain for sleep
Shall drag thee from thy nest;
That so thy sedative aroma
May lull them to a state of coma.
The infant child who lies awake,
Within its tiny trundle-bed,
No soothing potion needs to take,
If thou art duly read;
And hosts of harassed monthly nurses
Shall bless thy soporific verses.
Within its tiny trundle-bed,
No soothing potion needs to take,
If thou art duly read;
And hosts of harassed monthly nurses
Shall bless thy soporific verses.
The invalid who cannot rest
Has but at thy contents to glance
To hug thee to his fevered breast
And fall into a trance;
And sleepless patients without number
Shall hail thee harbinger of slumber.
Has but at thy contents to glance
To hug thee to his fevered breast
And fall into a trance;
And sleepless patients without number
Shall hail thee harbinger of slumber.
Go then, fond offspring of the Muse,
Perform thy deadly work by night,
Thou rich man's boon, thou widow's cruse,
Thou orphan-child's delight!
Appease the heirs from all the ages
With balm from thine hypnotic pages!
Perform thy deadly work by night,
Thou rich man's boon, thou widow's cruse,
Thou orphan-child's delight!
Appease the heirs from all the ages
With balm from thine hypnotic pages!
So in the palace of the king,
The mansion of the millionaire,
Thy readers shall combine to sing
Thy praises ev'rywhere,
Till folks in less exalted places
Scream loudly for Familiar Faces!
The mansion of the millionaire,
Thy readers shall combine to sing
Thy praises ev'rywhere,
Till folks in less exalted places
Scream loudly for Familiar Faces!
(When, if their cries are shrill and healthy,
I shall become extremely wealthy!)
I shall become extremely wealthy!)