Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. III
General
Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. III
Parodies
No thought of peace or Autumn rest
Hath harbour in the Chieftain’s breast.
With unsheathed broadsword in his hand,
He’ll pace the war-awakened land.
Strife’s rising he has heard and laid
His hand upon his ready blade,
His foot’s a rock. His vassals’ care
Midlothian promptly will prepare,
Where he aforetime lessons taught
With deep and deathful meaning fraught;
Where they shall meet and whence abroad
The Cross of Fire shall take its road.
The land would hear his vocal blasts,
And see the flashing glance he casts:
Such glance the mountain-eagle throws,
When high among the peaks and snows
He spreads his pinions on the wind,
And, like an albatross reclined
Mid-air, with his broad shadow hushes
The chirpers of the brakes and bushes.
’Tis all prepared! Firm as a rock,
And bold to brave the stormiest shock,
With kindling eye, with floating plaid,
Wide waving hair and flashing blade,
The Chieftain stands, heroic, grim,
Of dauntless front, and sinewy limb.
The Cross is shaped, and held on high;
The Chieftain of the eagle eye
Rears it aloft with clutch of steel,
Whilst far resounds his fierce appeal:――
“When flits this Cross from man to man,
Vich-Gladstone’s summons to his clan,
Woe to the clansman who shall view
This symbol, loved of followers true,
Forgetful that when last the blue
Beheld its blaze its beaconing drew
Beaconsfield’s glory low!
Deserter of his Chieftain’s trust,
He shall be scattered like the dust,
And from all loyal gatherings thrust,
Each clansman’s execration just
Shall doom him wrath and woe!”
He stops;――the word his followers take
With forward step and fiery shake
Of naked brands that lightnings make,
And clattering shields that echoes wake;
And first in murmur low,
Then like a Demonstration’s course
That Hyde parkwards doth his in force,
And purple shouts itself, and hoarse,
Burst from that thousand-throated source,
“Woe to such traitors, woe!”
The Chiefs grey locks defiant wave,
The Tories scarce that Cross may brave;
The exulting Rads hurrah afar――
They know the voice of Gladstone’s War!
_Punch_, August 30, 1884.
――――:o:――――
ROKEBY.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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