98
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[March 2, 1889.
LA FRANCE’S LAMENT.
. .. ..MfflltillffiMjU Ij l|
rirailjll
. v
“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,
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[March 2, 1889.
LA FRANCE’S LAMENT.
. .. ..MfflltillffiMjU Ij l|
rirailjll
. v
“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,
Werk/Gegenstand/Objekt
Titel
Titel/Objekt
La France's lament
Weitere Titel/Paralleltitel
Serientitel
Punch
Sachbegriff/Objekttyp
Inschrift/Wasserzeichen
Aufbewahrung/Standort
Aufbewahrungsort/Standort (GND)
Inv. Nr./Signatur
H 634-3 Folio
Objektbeschreibung
Maß-/Formatangaben
Auflage/Druckzustand
Werktitel/Werkverzeichnis
Herstellung/Entstehung
Künstler/Urheber/Hersteller (GND)
Entstehungsdatum
um 1889
Entstehungsdatum (normiert)
1884 - 1894
Entstehungsort (GND)
Auftrag
Publikation
Fund/Ausgrabung
Provenienz
Restaurierung
Sammlung Eingang
Ausstellung
Bearbeitung/Umgestaltung
Thema/Bildinhalt
Thema/Bildinhalt (GND)