Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 30033-h.htm or 30033-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30033/30033-h/30033-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30033/30033-h.zip) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI VOL. 98. FEBRUARY 8, 1890. [Illustration: ] UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS. "Très volontiers," repartit le démon. "Vous aimez les tableaux changeans: je veux vous contenter." _Le Diable Boiteux._ XIX. "A Late Symposium! Yet they're not engaged In compotations. Argument hath raged Four hours by the dial; But zealotry of party, creed, or clique Marks not the clock, whilst of polemic pique There's one unvoided vial." So smiled the Shade. Dusk coat and gleaming head, Viewed from above, before my gaze outspread Like a black sea bespotted With bare pink peaks of coral isles; all eyes Were fixed on one who reeled out rhapsodies In diction double-shotted. A long and lofty room, with pillars cold, And spacious walls of chocolate and gold; The solid sombre glory Of tint oppressive and of tasteless shine, Dear to the modern British Philistine, Saint, sceptic, Whig, or Tory. "No Samson-strength of intellect or taste Shall bow the pillars of this temple chaste Of ugliness and unction. What is't they argue lengthily and late? The flame of patriot passion for the State Fires this polemic function. "A caitiff Government has done a thing To make its guardian-angel droop her wing In sickened indignation: That is, has striven to strengthen its redoubts, Perfidious 'Ins,' to foil the eager 'Outs.' Hence endless execration. "Hence all Wire-pullerdom is up in arms; With clarion-toned excursions and alarms The rival camp is ringing. Hence perky commoners and pompous peers, 'Midst vehement applause and volleying cheers, Stale platitudes are stringing. "The British Public--some five hundred strong-- Is here to 'strangle a Gigantic Wrong,'-- So MARABOUT is saying. Watch his wide waistcoat and his wandering eyes, His stamping boots of Brobdingnagian size, Clenched hands, and shoulders swaying. "A great Machine-man, MARABOUT! He dotes On programmes hectographed and Party votes. For all his pasty pallor And shifty glance, he has the mob's regard, And he is deemed by council, club, and ward A mighty man of valour. "A purchased henchman to a Star of State? Perhaps. But here he'll pose and perorate, A Brutus vain and voluble. And who, like MARABOUT, with vocal flux Of formulas, can settle every _crux_ That wisdom finds insoluble? "'Hear! hear!' That shibboleth of shallow souls Around his ears in clamorous cadence rolls; He swells, he glows, he twinkles; The sapient Chairman wags his snowy pate, Whilst cynic triumph, cautious yet elate, Lurks laughing in his wrinkles.