And Oh, Lucille Grahn! and Oh, Cerito! Whatever on earth could have made you do so? [Illustration: The Gods and Goddesses behind the Scenes at the Italian Opera. ] [Illustration: SHAM IBRAHIM, or the Pacha at Vauxhall. ] A LAY OF MODERN ENGLAND OR, IBRAHIM PACHA AT VAUXHALL. Great Ibrahim of Egypt has promised the Lessee The Masquerade at Vauxhall he'll go in State to see; To Allah he has vowed it—to Allah and the Clown, That in his royal Glass-Coach he will in State go down. It's posted in all Quarters—it's stuck up in all Parts, It's carried about by Boardmen and advertising Carts; It is in every paper—it is on every wall, That Ibrahim of Egypt is going to Vauxhall. To-night the Clerks of London shall "Merry Monarchs" be; To-night each Linendraper shall get his Captaincy; The Tailors Metropolitan to-night shall strut as Greeks, And Jews for Don Giovannis shall rouge their sallow cheeks. But there are six young Doctors who dearly love a Laugh, One is disguised as Ibrahim, the others as his staff; They've hired a seedy Glass-Coach—they've Beards and Caps and All, And as Ibrahim of Egypt they're going to Vauxhall. And now they leave the Borough with many a loud Huzzā; Drive on! drive on! to Vauxhall—On to the Bal Masqué! On! shout the six young Doctors, and, as the crowd Hurrah, They laugh to find they're taken for Ibrahim Pacha. In swarms the Masqueraders are whirling to the Doors, Of Sailors there are Hundreds—of Soldiers there are Scores, And lots of German Students who nought of German know, And not a few Postillions who're _not_ from Lonjumeau. And many illegal Lawyers with borrow'd Wigs and Gowns, And lively Undertakers—and melancholy Clowns, And Debardeurs and Tomboys—and many a Bow-bell Swain, And dressed as "Heeland Lassies," the Lasses of Cockaigne. From Eastward and from Westward the Masks are pouring there, The Nobbish and the Snobbish from Mile End and May Fair; They pour from many a Mess-room—and many a Second Floor, They pour from Swan and Edgar's—from Lincoln's Inn they pour. But now Inspector Higgins rides up the way to clear; "Stand back! stand back! you fellows, great Ibrahim is near!" And then, far in the distance, the welkin's heard to ring, With "Long live Ibrahim Pacha! Long life to Egypt's King!" And Nearer still and Nearer the seedy Glass-Coach steals, And Louder grows and Louder the rumbling of its Wheels, And Plainly and more Plainly is heard the People's din, But Nothing still—no Nothing does the Pacha do but Grin. For Clearly, very Clearly, the Ibrahim they cheer'd, Was only a Sham Ibrahim with only a Sham Beard, And Truly, very Truly, the Pacha's present Suite Came not from Mighty Egypt, but from Great Tooley Street.