Was not the lecture good, His for great minds the food! See how erect he stood. Teaching his Townsmen, Whilst Horncastle wondered! Surrounded by Kith and Kin, Did he not give it in? "Light" was the very thing Whereon our faith to pin. Misled by Forbes Winslow, The Doctor who blundered-- Then he sat down amid Cheers from two hundred. Kinsfolk to right of him, Kinsfolk to left of him, No one behind him Listened and wondered. Other orbs, great and small, Took fresh light, one and all, In the great lecture hall From Light's special envoy. These were but few, indeed, Of the two hundred. Honour Professor bold, Long shall the tale be told; Aye, when our babes be old, How he enlightened us! * * * * * THE CHARGE OF THE COURT BRIGADE. I. Half a yard--half a yard-- Half a yard onward, Through the first crush-room Pressed the Four Hundred. Forward--the Fair Brigade! On to the Throne, they said: On to the Presence Room Crushed the Four Hundred. II. Forward, the Fair Brigade! Was there a girl dismayed? E'en though the chaperons knew Some one had blundered. Theirs not to make complaint, Theirs not to sink or faint, Theirs--but words cannot paint Half the discomfiture Of the Four Hundred. III. Crowds on the right of them, Crowds on the left of them, Crowds all in front of them, Stumbled and blundered: On through the courtier-lined Rooms--most tremendous grind-- Into the Presence-Room, Leaving their friends behind, Passed the Four Hundred. IV. Flushed all their faces fair, Flashed all their jewels rare, Scratched all their shoulders bare, Thrusting each other--while Outsiders wondered: Into the Presence Room, Taking their turn they come,-- Some looking very glum O'er trains sore-sundered:-- Kiss hand, and outwards back, Fagged, the Four Hundred! V. Crowds to the right of them, Crowds on the left of them, Crowds all in front of them, Stumbled and blundered-- Back through more courtier-lined Rooms--O, tremendous grind!-- _Débutantes_ thirsty pined For ice or cup o' tea: No sofas horse-hair lined, Not a chair or settee, Poor dear Four Hundred! VI. Mothers to rage gave vent, Husbands for broughams sent, While at mismanagement Both sorely wondered. Not till the sun had set, Not till the lamps were lit, Home from the Drawing Room Got the Four Hundred. VII. Some, I heard, in despair Of getting stool or chair, Took to the floor, and there Sat down and wondered. Now, my Lord Chamberlain, Take my advice. Again When there's a Drawing-room, Shut doors, and don't let in More than Two Hundred.