And a poet who the populace enrages By an out-of-date endeavour to combine The dispiriting solemnity of sages With the quill-work of the fretful porcupine, Is considered so unworthy of his wages That the public will not read a single line, And his gems will never sparkle in the pages Of a volume such as mine! RHYMES FOR THE TIMES 'WHAT'S IN A NAME?' [Lord Lincolnshire pointed out that Britain's glory has always depended very largely upon men whose names suggest no historical associations; upon the Browns and the McGhees, as well as upon the Willoughbys, the Talbots, and the Cecils.] In praise of many a noble name, Let lesser poets chaunt a pæan; The deathless fame will I proclaim Of others, more plebeian. Let minstrels sing of Montagues, Of Scots and Brabazons and Percys, While lovers of the Muse (or Meux) On Lambtons base their verses. My lyre, which neither mocks nor mimics, Shall laud the humbler patronymics. Though Talbots may have led the van, And fought the battles of the nation, 'Twas but a simple Elliman Invented embrocation! Though Churchills many a triumph won, And Stanleys made their world adore them, 'Twas Pickford--ay, and Paterson-- Who 'carried' all before them! Not twice, in our rough island story, Was Smith synonymous with glory! The snob may snigger, if he likes; But on the rolls of Greater Britain The famous name of William Sikes Immortally is written; And when men speak, in sneering tones, Of Brown, Jones, Robinson (They do so!), I always cite _John_ Brown, _Burne_-Jones And Robinson _Caruso_, And thus, with bright examples, teach 'em That Beecham's quite as good as Beauchamp! NOBODY'S DARLING! ['Nobody loves millionaires any more.'--Mr. ZIMMERMAN.] Time was when Society wooed me, The populace fawned at my feet; Men petted and praised and pursued me, My social success was complete. The pick of the Peerage, with smiles on their faces, Would sell me their family portraits and places. With stairs of pure marble below me, My stand as a host I would take, While guests (who, of course, didn't know me) The hand of my butler would shake, Averring, in phrases delightfully hearty, How much they enjoyed his agreeable party. I gave away libraries gratis, Each village and town to adorn, Till with the expression '_Jam satis!_' Lord Rosebery laughed them to scorn; And soon Mr. Gosse and the groundlings were snarling At one who must style himself Nobody's Darling! [Illustration] And now when I purchase their pictures, Or bid for some family seat, Men pass most disparaging strictures, Discussing my action with heat; While newspapers term it a 'public disaster' Each time I endeavour to buy an Old Master!