Punch (99.1890)

THE LOVE LETTER.-A STUDY OF INDISCRETION.

FROM NILE TO NEVA.

[" And the Egyptians made the children of Israel
to serve -with rigour. And they made their lives
bitter with hard bondage."—Exodus.

" The .Russian Government, by the new edicts,
legalises persecution, and openly declares war
against the Jews of the Empire."—Times.']

" Bewabe! " 'Tis a voice from the shades,
from the dark of three thousand long
years,

But it falls like the red Made of Hi, and

should eoho in Tyranny's ears
With the terror of overhead thunder; frcm

Nile to the Neva it thrills,
And it speaks of the judgment of wrong-, of

the doom of imperious wills.
When Pentaour sang of the Phabaoh, alone

by Oroates, at bay,
By the chariots compassed about of the foe

who were fierce for the fray,
He sang of the dauntless oppressor, of Ra-

heses, conquering king;
But were there such voice by the Neva to-day,

of what now should he sing ?
Of tyranny born out of time, of oppression

belated and vain ?
Pat up the old weapon, 0 despot, slack hand

from the scourge and the chain ;
For the days of the Pharaohs are done, and

the laureates of tyranny mute,
And the whistle of falchion and flail are not

set to the chords of the lute.
True, the Hebrew, who bowed to the lash of

the Pyramid-builders, bows still,
For a time, to the knout of the Tsab, to the

Muscovite's merciless will;
But four millions of Israel's children are not

to be crushed in the path
Of a Tsab, like the Hittites of old, when great

Rimesis flamed in his wralh

Alone through their numberless hosts. No,

the days of the Titans of Wrong
Are past, for the Truth is a torch, and the

voice of the peoples is strong.
Even Pentaoub, the poet of Might, spake in

pity that rings down the years
Of the life of "the peasant that tills " of his

terrible toil and his tears;
Of the rats and the locusts that ravaged, and,

worse, the tax-gathering horde
Who tithed all his pitiful tilth with the aid

of the stick and the cord;
And the splendour of Bameses pales in the

text of the old Coptic Muse,
And—one hears the mad rush of the wheels

that the fierce Bed Sea billow pursues!
0 Musoovite, blind in your wrath, with

your heel on the Israelite's neck,
And your hand on that baleful old blade,

Persecution, 'twere wisdom to reck
The Phabaoh's calm warning. Beware!

Lo, the Pyramids pierce the grey gloom
Of a desert that is but a waste, by a river

that is but a tomb,
Yet the Hebrew abides and is strong.

Ameneman is gone to the ghosts,
He the prince of the Coptic police who so

harried the Israelite hosts
When their lives with hard-bondage were

bitter. And now bitter bandage you'd try.
Proscription, and exile, and stern depriva-
tion. Beware, Sire! Put by
That blade in its blood-rusted scabbard. The

Phaeaohs, the Cesabs have found
That it wounds him who wields it; and you,

though your victim there, prone on the

ground,

Look helpless and hopele!S, you also shall find

Persecution a bane
Which shall lead to a Bed Sea of blood to

o'erwhelm selfish Tyranny's train.

"Beware!" Tis the shade of'MEHEPTHA
that whispers the warning from far.

Concerning that sword there's a lesson the
Phabaoh may teach to the Tsab '.

"Rewabds foe Gallantey."—Among the
numerous rewards mentioned in the Times of
last Thursday, the magnificent gold watch,
with monogram in diamonds, presented by
the Royal Italian Opera Company to Augustus
Dbueiolanus at the close of the present excep-
tionally successful season, was not mentioned.
Most appropriate present from the persons up
to tune to one who is always up to time. The
umble individual who writes this paragraph
only wishes some company—Italian, French,
no matter which—would present him with a
golden and diamonded watch. " 0 my pro-
phetic soul! My Uncle!! "

The Price ot It.

Gladstone's latest Benedicite'
Is bestowed on " free publicity."
'Tis the thing that we all strive at,
Praise in speech, and hate—in private!
Where are pride, reserve, simplicity ?
Fled for ever—from Publicity!

" Mobe Light I "—The Berners Hotel Co.,
with Mr. Gkokgb Augustus Sala as Chair-
man, should at once be advertised as " The
G. A. S.-Berners Hotel Co.," and, of course,
no electric lighting would be used. Mr.
Sims Reeves is also a Director of this Hotel
Company. So it starts with a tenner.

Socialistic Military Novel. By James Odd
Summeb. One Iron Soldier, and the Led
Captain.