Punch (96.1889)

98

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[March 2, 1889.

LA FRANCE’S LAMENT.

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“I have no Men to govern in this wood :
That makes my only woe! ”

So Cleopatra cried in mournful mood
(Tennyson- tells us so).

My only woe is of another kind.

’Tis no Mark Antony
I seek ; my sorrow is that I can find
No Men to govern me.

Mark Antony indeed! That steel-clad tool
Of silken fingers ? Nay!

Rather some C.esar who at least can rule.
And where is such to-day ?

They come like shadows, and they so depart,
These mannikins of mine.

Not one with a strong head and dauntless heart
Like a fixed star to shine.

GrAMBetta’s gone, brave little Thiers is dead.

No CLesars they, and yet
That fiery spirit, that sagacious head,

I cannot but regret.

Nay, even perjured Louis, for a space,

Made shift to stand and seem
The hero he was not. But thi s new race
Of pigmies ? A bad dream!

Not Amurath to Amurath succeeds,

In my disordered state ;

Midget to midget, rather. My heart bleeds
O’er such a petty fate.

Tirard to Floquet, and to Tirard whom—
In, say, six weeks or so ?

No Men to govern me, that seems my doom,
And that’s my only woe.

But for this Phrygian cap I could cry out
For C.esar’s self again •

If there he any Caesars—which I doubt.
Boulanger ? He may strain,