Punch (10.1846)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

153

THE BRIDE OF ALGIERS.

(Continued from page 143.)

part II. the reconciliation.

Marshal Bugeaud, Marshal Bugeaud,
Flinging wide your lattice high,

Why this bootless indignation ?
" ~Au voleur I" in vain you cry.

See. him hurry on his trousers !
See him plunge into his boots I

Hark, he thunders for the Colonel !

Hark, " Turn out the men !" he shouts.

Quickly at the call they muster.

Fierce moustache, and frightful beard .

Then in brief inspiring accents
Loud the Marshal's voice is heard.

" Soldiers ! Frenchmen ! Civilizers !

Scour the country swift and. sure !
Smoke the bees and bag the honey !

Stifle every blessed Moor !

" Lots of centuries behold you !—
' Die,' my comrades, never sav !—

France expects that every Frenchman
Will his booty sack to-day !

" Spies have shown us the direction
Of my truant daughter's flight :

Abd-el-Kader, Abd-el-Kader,
You shall smoke for this 'ere night ! "

Then he gave a general scramble,
Eibands red and crosses rare ;—

Nearly all who did not catch them.
Had already got them there.

Then each trooper took his faggot,

And his box of lucifers—
Mounted straight his gallant charger—

Struck him with the jingling spurs ;

Ne'er was razzia so successful
Since the Gallic cock took wing ;

Fast and far they scour'd the country,
Burning, smoking, pillaging ;—

Prov'd " de la civilisation "

That they were " les vrais apotres f
And hung up some Arab damsels,

Pour encourager les autres.

Ha ! what spies yon peering trooper,
That to Bugeaud's side he speeds ?

" Mille canons ?" he shouts, " look yonder ! "
Sure enough, two Arab steeds !

Each a double burden carries,
Which unequal makes the race :

To a skilful handicapper,

Such a match were sore disgrace.

Now they see the chace behind them

Tearing at a fearful bat ;—
Swart Bou Maza, swart Bou Maza,

Now you own Fifine is fat !—

"Faint not, Julie ; faint not, Julie,

We shall reach yon cavern yet ! "—
" If we do, Papa will smoke us !

For he's in a fuming pet."

Just in time, they reach the cavern,—

Not a barleycorn to spare—
In they leap, and block the entrance

Ere the foremost foe gets there.

In due course, dismount the troopers,

And prepare the 'custom'd blaze—
" Stay ! " cries Bugeattd, " Stay ! my daughter !—

This is not the common case."

Then he steps up to the entrance—

" Hark ye, Moor, mon brave I" cries he ;

" Ere you die (to ease your conscience)
First restore my child to me."—

" Much I love your only daughter.

Much Bou Maza loves her maid ;
But, if you are bent uo smoking,

Smoke us all I we an't afraid—

" Why dost falter, Marshal Bugeaud ?

Canst thou doubt what course is right,
With an Arab in a grotto,

And the means to strike a light ? "

" Were't the maid alone, I'd do it ;

But (my brain begins to whirl !)
Can I smoke my only daughter—

Suffocate the darling girl ? "

See, the Father's heart opposes

What the Governor decrees ;
Hark, at length the welcome order—

" Recover faggots ! Stand at ease !

" I forgive thee, only daughter !

I forgive thy robber Moor ;
Though of Mrs. Abd-el-Kaders

He has got already four."

Forth then comes brave Abd-el-Kader,

Fainting Julie comes to light ;
Comes Fifine with swart Bou Maza.

Looking in a precious fright.

Abd-el-Kader and the Marshal,

See, they shake the friendly hand ;
Into the arms of swart Bou Maza

Falls the Second-in-Command.

Home returning, all together
Talk the day's proceedings o'er ;

Smoking now the mild Havannah,
Vice the ferocious Moor.

Thus the Marshal's lovely daughter
Won the Arab Chief so plain :

Thus were saved from suffocation
All that did unsmok'd remain.

Tbe Drama.

The royal children have been taken to Astlet's to see the horse
The public were not admitted to see the infants themselves, but wei
afterwards generously allowed to look at their little chairs !