The burdens of fame, The manifold perils That wait on a name. Content thyself, baby, With learning to read: Don't be vainglorious; That's all thou canst need. All promptings of genius Confine in thy breast, If thou wouldst, baby, Expire well dressed.... Let not God nor Devil Concern thy poor wits, And tell no more truth Than politeness permits. With thy soul and thy body, Still worship the Real; Nor ever attempt To pursue the Ideal. As for thy scruples, Let them be suppressed, If thou wouldst, baby, Expire well dressed. Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.' THE STEAM-GUILLOTINE [The monarch satirized in this poem was Francesco IV., Duke of Modena, a petty Nero, who executed not a few of the Italian patriots of 1831.] A most wonderful steam-machine, One time set up in China-land, Outdid the insatiate guillotine, For in three hours, you understand, It cut off a hundred thousand heads In a row, like hospital beds. [Pg 6358] This innovation stirred a breeze, And some of the bonzes even thought Their barbarous country by degrees To civilization might be brought, Leaving Europeans, with their schools, Looking like fools. The Emperor was an honest man— A little stiff, and dull of pate; Like other asses, hard and slow. He loved his subjects and the State, And patronized all clever men Within his ken. His people did not like to pay Their taxes and their other dues,— They cheated the revenue, sad to say: So their good ruler thought he'd choose As the best argument he'd seen, This sweet machine. The thing's achievements were so great, They gained a pension for the man,— The executioner of State,— Who got a patent for his plan, Besides becoming a Mandarin Of great Pekin. A courtier cried: "Good guillotine! Let's up and christen it, I say!" "Ah, why," cries to his counselor keen A Nero of our present day, "Why was not born within my State A man so great?" Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.' [Pg 6359] WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE. WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE (1809-)