WHO IS IT?

_A Political Enigma. Compounded from the Press of the Period._

[Illustration]

He's hopeless of heaven, he's too bad for ----,

(So say Unionist bards, and they ought to know well,)

He is JUDAS-cum-CAIN with a _soupcon_ of OATES,

An imperious despot, who grovels for votes;

A mean truckling tyrant, an autocrat slave;

A Knave who plays King, and a King who plays Knave.

A haughty Commander, the tool of his troops,

A swayer of "items," nose-led by his dupes;

A Dog-despot, wagged by the tip of his tail,

A Conspirator potent, whose plot's bound to fail;

The land's greatest danger, because such a dolt;

As ruler a scourge, because breeding revolt;

As political guide ever banefully strong,

Because the majority sees he is wrong.

A prolix _Polonius_ who proves his senility

By taking the shine out of youth and ability:

A veteran lagging superfluous, whose age

Puts him "out of it" so, that he fills the whole stage:

So old that his age gives him every claim,

Save to decent respect, which, of course, is a shame,

And absurd "fetish-worship." As Lucifer proud

And imperious, yet supple of knee to the crowd;

A CORIOLANUS who plays the JACK CADE;

A coward of nothing and no one afraid;

A blundering batsman whom none can bowl out;

A craven who staggers opponents most stout;

A traitor who gives his whole life to the State,

Whose zeal proves his spite, and his service his hate.

A truckler to treason and trickster for place,

Whose stubbornness oft throws him out of the race;

A lover of power and public applause,

Who dares to oppose the most popular cause.

A talkative sophist who will _not_ explain;

A bad-tempered man, ever bland and urbane:

A casuist no one can half understand,

But whose sinister purpose is plain as your hand;

A vituperative and venomous foe,

Whose speeches with calm magnanimity glow.

In short, an old dolt, who inflicts dire defeat

On the smartest young foes he can manage to meet;

A powerless provoker of dreadful disasters,

A master of slaves whose mere slaves are his masters;

A voluble sphinx, and a simple chimaera

The Age's conundrum, the _crux_ of his aera!

_Mem._:

If you can't give a guess at the theme of these rhymes,

Why, peruse all the papers, and move with the times!

* * * * *

Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105, August 26th 1893 · 第 18 / 22 题