Punch (48.1865)

May 20, 1865.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

199

THE DUBLIN EXHIBITION.



The purty crushers, white-wanded ushers.

For keeping order both inside and out,

A distant humming spoke some one coming,

Which grew into a loud and loyal shout.

Whisht! All are now in, the Pjrince is bowiu’,
And him the darling Duke of Leinster shows
Which the best way is, up to the dais—

Sure, ’tis but following the Royal nose !

The Choir with anthems start up like phanthoms,
Or larks, who carol up at Heaven’s gate ;

Then come the spayches with lots of “ h’s ”—

’Tis them that has the laming quite complate.

In words so taking the Prince is spaking,

And is explaining, in a pleasant way.

To the Burgesses that our Princess is
Unable to be present on that day.

There’s Chairman Sandars from the bystanders
Comes out, and says, while giving up the kays,

“ When from the door. Sir, you go out, sure Sir,
You ’ll lave it open for us, if you plaze.”

Then men and maidens, sing songs of Haydn’s,

And in bright spangles, red and gold galore,

Sir Bernard Burke, he struts like a turkey,

Och ! ’tis myself ’ud strut if him I wor.

That’s he that spoke now, “ All you good folk now,
(Don’t interrupt me, boys, with your applause)—
To th’ Exhibition there’s free admission
For all, by simply paying at the doors.”

IS for swate Dublin, my muse I’m throublin’

With tuning up my harp, to which I’ll sing;

Joy to the nation ! a great occasion
For everybody and for everything.

I drain a chalice to the Winter Palace,

(So called bekase ’twas opened first in May),

To Albert Ed’ard, who has consider’d
His people’s happiness, and cross’d the say.

Och, Misther Wodehouse ! who’d think ye would
dowse

The Royal light, which should blaze near and far F
The place approachin’ a covered coach in,

Octi! he’d have been better in an outside car.
While folks were waitin’, there comes, great state in.
Lord Ffbench, Lord Beaumont, Lady Mary
Quin,

And o’er agenst her, stood the Duke of Leinster,
The first to let his Royal Highness in.

Then, Masther Punch, in we went to lunchin’.

Or what in French we call a dejunay,

Such delicissies and water-cresses,

With sherry, white wine, likewise Sang Peray.

With something lighter the present writer
Was satisfied, and walked about incog.,

On treasures gloating, I kept on noting
The chief things mentioned in the Catalogue.

Here first and foremost, like the Koh-i-Noor most,

Stood out a lump of granite all alone,

Och ! ’tis worth putting in there, that cutting,

From Ireland’s sham-rock, called the Blarney-Stone.

There’s Eve with shaddock, carved, and the Haddock
That first swum into lovely Dublin Bay;

These pipes are labelled as them the fabled
Musician before Moses used to play.

Faix, here are Praties, each bread-and-mate is;

An Irish lamb trimmed with shillelagh sprig;

Just by your knuckle, see now, the buckle
That was first covered in an Irish jig.

While I’m romancing, the sounds of dancing
Come from where, in the Lord Mayor’s Mansion Hall,

Trip Erin’s daughters, like laughing waters,

Who with ye can compare, at all, at all!

Here’s all that’s loyal t.o all that’s Royal!

And may with glory Queen Yic-tory thrive !

The best I’m wishun’ to the Exhibition
Of Eighteen Hun-de-red and Sixty-five !

THE SEAL OF THE CONFESSIONAL.

This Seal, which has recently been exhibited at the British Ecclesi-
astical Museum, is a curious work of Art. On the obverse side is an
enormous earwig under a rose (emblem of secresy) surmounted by the
terse legend engraved in Church-hand, “ Trust Me.” On the reverse
side is an Hibernian-looking head encircled by the apposite motto,

“Who Breaks—Pays.” The Seal, we understand, was designed in
Rome, where it is looked upon by connoisseurs as an article of virtu.
To our simple sight it appears antiquated in style and quite unsuited to
the English climate. Some minds of a high order confess that this
sort of Seal has for them a mysterious charm, but we gravely doubt
whether any good impression can be made by those delicate instruments
that will not bear exposure to the light.