Punch: Punch (87.1884)

December 27, 1884.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Scene—Mr. Punch’s Sanctum. Mr. Punch and the Poet Laureate discovered in confidential confabulation.

Mr Punch.
Poet Laureate.

Mr. Punch.

Poet Laureate.

Mr. Punch.
Poet Laureate

Mr. Pune*

Poet Laureate.
Mr. Punch.

When bard meets bard, then comes the—pipe of peace !
“ I pipe but as the linnets sing,” you know,

“And do but sing”—and smoke—“because I must.”
Refill, my Lord! Could Raleigh make a third,

(Defiant here of James’s Counterblast,)

The spacious times of great Elizabeth
Might seem returned—almost.

Well qualified !

Shall “days that deal in ana ” deal with aught
In the large-thoughted free Shakspearian style?
Leviathan may not be aped—or judged—

By “ literary leeches.”

Humph ! There peeps
A glint of green from out that pocket.

(,flushing slightly). Oh !

My play—my poem—say my poem-play ;

No theatre-thing, in present trim at least.

But Selborne likes it; you, I thought, might care
To scan—appraise-

Mellifluous Alfred mine,
From green to green, of cover, know I it.

And think ?

A large-schemed work wakes many thoughts
Scarce summable in the smart young critic’s phrase
Of cynical cocksureness. Stately-sweet,

High-souled, and unhysteric, like all verse
From lips that satyr-froth has never stained,

Nor Cockney spasm vulgarised.

Poet Laureate. Such praise

From Punch’s lips is present pledge of Fame.

Mr. Punch Well buttered, both!—-would sneer the Twopenny Timon ;
Eh, Toby?