Punch (102.1892)

42

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

[January 23, 1892.

OF THE WORLD WORLDLY.

" There go the Spicer Wilcoxes, Mamma ! I'm told they 're dying to know us. Hadn't we better call?"
"Certainly not, Dear. If they're dying to know us, they're not worth knowing. The only People worth Our
knowing are the people who don t want to know us ! "

THE BRIDAL WREATH.

IN MEMORIAM

H.R.H. THE DUKE OF CLARENCE AND AVONDALE.

Born, Jan. 8, 1864. Died, Jan. 14, 1892.

" I thought thy bridal to have deck'd ....
And not have strew'd thy grave."—Samlet.

But yesterday it seems,

That, dreaming loyal dreams,
Punch, with, the People, genially rejoiced

In that Betrothal Wreath ; *

And now relentless Death
Silences all the joy our hopes had voiced.

The Shadow glides between ;

The garland's vernal green
Shrivels to greyness in its spectral hand.

Joy-bells are muffled, mute,

Hushed is the bridal lute,
And general grief darkens across the land.

Surely a hapless fate

For young hearts so elate,
So fired with promise of approaching bliss !

Oh, flowers we hoped to fling !

Oh, songs we thought to sing !
Prophetic fancy had not pictured this.

Young, modest, scarce yet tried,

Later he should have died,
This gentle youth, loved by our widowed
Queen!

So we are apt to say,

Who only mark the way,
Not the great goal by all but Heaven unseen.

* See Cartoon, " England, Some, and Beauty .'"
p. 295, December 19, 1891.

At least our tears may fall

Upon the untimely pall
Of so much frustrate promise, unreproved;

At least our hearts may bear

In her great grief a share.
Who bows above the bier of him she loved.

Princess, whose brightening fate

We gladly hymned of late,
Whose nuptial happiness we hoped to hymn

With the first bursts of spring,

To you our hearts we bring
Warm with a sympathy death cannot dim.

Death, cold and cruel Death,

Removes the Bridal Wreath [signed.

England for England's daughter had de-
Love cannot stay that hand,
And Hymen's rosy band

Is rent; so will the Eates austere and blind.

Blind and austere ! Ah, no !

The chill succeeds the glow,
As winter hastes at summer's hurrying heel.

Flowers, soft and virgin-white,

Meant for the Bride's delight, [kneel.
May deck the pall where love in tears must

Flowers are they, blossoms still,

Born of Benignant Will, [heed
Not of the Sphingian Fate, which hath no

For human smiles or tears ;

The long-revolving years
Have brought humanity a happier creed.

Prince-Sire of the young dead,

Mother whose comely head
Is bowed above him in so bitter grief ;

Betrothed one, and bereaved,

Oueen who so oft hath grieved,—
Ye all were nurtured in this blest belief.

Hence is there comfort still,
In a whole land's good-will,

In hope that pallid spectre shall not slay.
The unwelcome hand of Death
Closes on that white wreath ;

But there is that Death cannot take away !

At Mrs. Ram's.—They were talking of
Mr. John Morley. "He's not a practical
politician," said someone, "he's a doctrin-
aire." " Is he, indeed f " said our excellent
old Lady, '' then I daresay I met him when
I was in Scotland." Observing their puzzled
expression, she added, "Yet it's more than
likely I didn't, as, when in the North, I was
so uncommonly well that I never wanted a
medical man." Subsequently it turned out
that she had understood Mr. J. M. to be a
" Doctor in Ayr."

Song for Lord Rosebery.

(After " Tom Tug," in the " Waterman:')

Then farewell, my County Council,
Cheek, and fads, and bosh farewell,

Never more in Whitehall Gardens
Shall your Roseb'ry take a spell.

Change op Name Suggested.—Why call
the place Monte Carlo, why not Mont
''Blanc" Junior? The Leviathan Winner
who broke the record and the tables, Mr. Hill
Wells, might also alter his name according
to his luck. A run of HiLL-luck would settle
him: but when "Well's the word," he
could forget the HiLL-doing of the previous
day.