* * * * * THE RUSSIAN CZAR. Oh, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar! On me you shall not play the fool; You thought to make a tool of me Before you occupied Stamboul. You drew your plan _en gentleman_, But I was not to be deceived; A Russian Czar's a Russian Czar-- You are not one to be believed. * * * * * Oh, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar! Some softer envoy you must gloze, For were you Emperor of the world, I would not stoop to tricks like those. You set a cunning trap for me, But I was cunning in reply; The monjeike at your palace gate Was not more _down_ to you than I. * * * * * But trust me, ruthless Russian Czar! Though heaven above be brightly blue, 'Tis writ upon your palace walls-- Dark is the doom prepared for you! Howe'er it be, it seems to me The truly great are truly good; God watches o'er those minarets When _Christian faith_ sheds Turkish blood. I know you, haughty Russian Czar! You sigh to leave your frozen towers; Short-sighted are your bloated eyes, Which strain to feast on Moslem bowers. You move by stealth through boundless wealth; Your very nobles are o'erawed; You do so little good at home, You needs must play such pranks abroad. Oh, Russian Czar! oh, Russian Czar! If power be heavy on your hands, Are there no wretches in your realm, Nor any slaves upon your lands? Oh teach your monjeiks how to read, Emancipate your serfs; but no-- _First pray to have a human heart_, And let the turban'd Moslem go. _Diogenes_, April, 1854. (This parody contained nine verses in all.) * * * * * LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE; OR, RUSTIC ADMIRATION. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, The country sun has made you brown, And now they tell me that you start To-morrow afternoon for town; Ah! how I sighed when I descried Your lovely form beside the stream The other day when on my way I passed with Farmer Jackson's team! Lady Clara Vere de Vere, I wish that you would change your name For such a humble one as mine: But no--you'd think it quite a shame; So I must be content to take My choice of humbler maiden's charms-- Must marry someone who can bake, And has a sturdy pair of arms. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Some "Lord Dundreary" _you_ must find; Our rustic bread and cheese and beer Would hardly suit your taste refined. If I should write you of _my_ love, And wait outside for a reply, The lion on your old stone gates, Would talk of verdure in his eye. * * * * *