Though on oblivion's barren shores
He give it quick sepulture,
Still through reluctant passman's pores
Instil the dew of culture.
Still give us of the rills divine
That flow from haunted Helicon,
Nor rend thyself to feed the swine,
Like a perverted Pelican.
Keep far the time when every bee
That booms in every bonnet,
Shall find a chair of Apiary,
And drone long lectures on it.
Still the large light and sweetness seek
Of KEATS'S raptured vision,
(Or KEATE'S)--till Greek at last meets Greek
In brotherhood Elysian.
* * * * *
A NEW TREASURE FOR. THE TREASURER OF BARTHOLOMEW'S.--_Mr. Punch_, G.P.E.,
General President of Everything, begs to congratulate Professor HUBERT
HERKOMER, R.A.M.A., on his admirable portrait of Sir SYDNEY HEDLEY, and
now, not only HEDLEY, but Full-Lengthly WATERLOW, Bart., of "Bart's," which
H.R.H. correctly described as "a very fine work of Art, painted by one of
our most eminent artists." Such approbation of Sir HUBERT HERKOMER is
praise indeed! _Mr. Punch_, G.P.E., prefixes the "Sir" prophetically. For
the present it may be taken as the last syllable, detached, of "Profes-sir"
* * * * *
"WELLS, I NEVER!"--"Mr.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43