_Or, the March of Civilisation._
About the merry Mandarin
His fatal gift for humour,
I find it passing hard to pin
My faith to every rumour.
This war, for instance. Fancy shuts
Both eyes and vainly labours
To grasp the news that he is nuts
On blowing up his neighbours.
If so, he threatens to deface,
Beyond all recognition,
His right of kinship with a race
Whose excellent tradition,
Oldest of old traditions, has
Time out of mind begun by
This rule:--_Do not to others as
You'd rather not be done by._
Ignoring now the ancient bards,
He must have emulated
The doctrine which _Ah Sin_ at cards
So darkly demonstrated,
When, flush of duplicate supplies,
Well up his sleeves he slid 'em--
_Do those whom you will otherwise
Be done by_:--and he did 'em.
Observe this sad example of
Imported Western culture!
Symbol of peace, the sucking-dove
Knocks under to the vulture;
And prophets of a prior age
Might fairly be astounded
To find the system of the sage
CONFUCIUS worse confounded!
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