Punch (68.1875)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[June 19, 1875.

THE NAIADS’ APPEAL.

“ And add the power of some adjuring verse.”

Milton’s Comus.

By Science scorned, left in the cold by Song,

Thrust from our beds by Toil’s triumphant wrong,

We Naiads, water-babies sore dismayed,

Wait our last kick and curse from conquering Trade.

Once ’twixt cool banks, with willowy curtains set,

We basked long Summer noons—the eddies’ fret
Ruffling our lilied locks. Those times are o’er :

Now common sewer usurps uncommon shore,

And city brewage fouls and fills our deeps,

And Trade’s grey slime through our green sedges creeps.

0, foolish mortals, whom of old we loved
And oft inspired, have ye not richly proved
The blessing of our urns, that thus ye pour
Poison and plague from every streamlet’s shore ?

Self-smitten ingrates ! Nemesis is swift,

To avenge the Naiads’ desecrated gift.

The inky floods that daunt us, damage you ;

What dims our silver, turns your copper blue.*

Not sweet Sabrina, from her depths impure,

Could sprinkle now those “ drops of precious cure : ”+

The “ vial’d liquors,” from her fetid flood,

Fever, not freshen, now, town-tainted blood.

Swoll’n cities send contagion’s germs by streams
Where troutlets once glanced through the lilies’ gleams.

If dyes and sewage stain our bosoms bright.

They deal you death, where Nature meant delight.

The sombre Styx itself might surely shrink
From serving, as doth Calder’s tide, for ink ;

What odds ’twixt Bradford’s Aire and Acheron ?

Do e’en the fetid fires of Phlegethon

* The Marquis of Salisbury’s Speech introducing Pollution of Rivers Bill.

t Comus.

Worse gas than Irwell’s putrid waters churn?

The Bourne—to which no traveller should return—
Cocytus shames; its flood, once clear and blue,

Than ochre yellower, and more thick than glue !

Alas ! how should our delicate race abide
The palsying poison of Trade’s fetid tide ?

We faint, but, fainting, urge one late appeal,

Ere the last wave against our lips ye seal;

Shall England offer, holocausts of wealth,

Natural loveliness and human health ?

Not so. Let Sense and Song to Greed give pause:

On, Salisbury, on!—and good speed crown good cause !

“Come Up, Neddy!”

The subjoined advertisement is extracted from a newspaper, and
not from a fly-leaf of a new edition of JEsop's Fables :—

AN A.S.S. (by Exam.), requires a Young Man iu a Dispensing and
Prescribing business, with time for study with instruction, either for
the Prelim, or Minor. This is a good opportunity for one desirous of passing
his examination. Apply, stating age, &c., to Buttercup, care of, &e., &c.

An A.S.S. by “ Exam.” should he an A S S indeed; a tried and
declared ASS. He appears to intimate that he is prepared to
coach the Assistant for whom he advertises, whether for the
“ Prelim.” or the “Minor,” as need may be. In Euclid perhaps he
could carry a pupil safely over the Pons Asinorum. Perhaps, how-
ever, he couldn’t. Indeed, Buttercup might perhaps even be
called the Flower of Asses.

“Just as the Twig is Bent,” &c.

We wish to draw Sir Wilfrid Lawson’s attention to a most
serious matter—the number, the alarming number of infants who
from the first day of their existence are accustomed to “the bottle.”

FRONTI NULLA FIDES.

Lady. “ Such a Beautiful Creature must be Good-Tempered !”
Husband. “ Just what I thought when I Married you, my Dear.”