Punch (74.1878)

6 PUNCH, OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [January 12, 1878.

IN THE METROPOLITAN RAILWAY.

"I beg your TaRDON, bdt I think I had the pleasure of meeting YOU in ROME last year?"

"No. I've never been nearer to Rome than St. Alban's."
"St. Alb in'a 1 Where is that?" "IIolborn!"

THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN.

Cease, Neddy ! in the name of mercy, cease !

Spare us these blasts of self-complacent braying1,
"While for the coming; of the New "i ear's Peace

All ears are listening1, and all hearts are praying.
Take the tin trumpet from those foolish lips—

Not, as you dream, the mouth-piece of the nation.
When skies are dark with fear of War's eclipse,

We do not need your music's aggravation.

Ling have you wrought the Lion to arouse,

With noise that he calls braying, you call thunder ;
When, to play Lion, donkeys cease to browte,

As far as row goes Lion may knock under.
But when the lordlier brute's ill-fitting skin

You put on, leonine duties forth to blazon,
All but fools know you, nor regard your din—

Braggart and bumptious, bellicose and brazen.

What do you know of Leo's kingly way,

You, who misconstrue calm as coward quaking ?
There needs more than the will to lift a bray

Into a Lion's roar to fight awaking !
Like Bottom, you suppose the Lion's part

All roaring, as your bravery is all bragging1,
And fancy the great beast is losing heart,

Because you cannot see his tail still wagging.

Such force as yours is weakness to strong souls.

They hate the tricks of penny-trumpet fluster ;
To them the most contemptible of roles

Is frantic fidget and Bombastes' bluster.
We know our roads, be sure we '11 keep them free,

Where our right leads our feet are prompt to follow;
But we '11 not hang our boots on every tree,

In challenge as gratuitous as hollow.

Leo's tenacious of his right-of-way ;

Foes who that right may venture upon blocking,
Must face a deeper note than the big bray

With which the Ass the Lion has been mocking ;
But roaring round all roadways far and near,

Like some too-fussy cur that's always yapping,
Is a performance that suggests the fear

That thieves have but to will to take us napping.

The funk which fashions bogeys, and would arm

Oar neighbours with assassin's mask and dagger ;
The bounce which is the shield of weak alarm,

The self-distrust which cloaks itself in swagger ;
The fustian patriotism, spun by length,

The high ialutin' style, the cockerel cry,
May suit your aims and ears, but Leo's strength,

Couchant, with stretched arms, lets the jaw go by.

Detraction, bunkum, braggadocio, pour,

Unchecked, unchallenged, from your noisy throat.
" 'Tis Ass's braying, and not Lion's roar,"

Men say, pass on, and take no further note.
Honour and Interest hand in hand with Peace

Stand now as always ; who their clasp shall sever ?
Asses in Lion's skins ? Pooh, Neddy ! cease.—

Whate'er the skin, bray will be bray for ever!

Better than the Telephone.

" Psha ! " said Grtjmpus, when he heard of Telephonic machines
enabling us to hear a man six hundred miles off, "the valuable
invention would be one to enable us not to hear loud and vulgar
chatter six inches off—in railway carriages and elsewhere—to say
nothing of street-cries in a suburban street, or your neighbour's
piano in a suburban house. That would deserve gratitude, if you
like."